#pretty happy that i ended up catching up right for the final chapter. if i had to wait like the rest of you i dont think i'd have made it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mononijikayu · 2 months ago

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chapter (2) — the feels

GENRE: alternate universe - actors/celeb au!

WARNING/S: not safe for work (nsfw), r-18 and above, actors/singers au!, romance, fluff, minor angst, slow burn, humour, slice of life, will they won't they, light-hearted, flirting, playful, possessiveness, teasing, explicit content, possible, kissing, sexual content, innuendos, drama, feels, hurt/comfort, falling in love, love, happy ending, actor/singer! sukuna, actress/celeb! reader;

WORD COUNT: 4.4k words.

NOTE: everytime i look at the drafts for this, i get butterflies. this story is really fun for me to write no matter what. i genuinely enjoy exploring the dynamics. i hope you enjoy it as much as i do!!! anyway, sukuna is definitely a simp for reader. like genuinely, he's down bad. but tbh so is reader. they're matching each other in everything!!! but well.....are they dating? who knows?

TAGLIST: @kunasthiast, @midnight-138, @v3nd3ttal3on;

masterlist

hey lover! series

HE DIDN’T EXPECT TO COME ACROSS IT. But it was that one afternoon on his day off, while Ryomen Sukuna was out running errands, he found himself finding a piece of you. It was just a regular day for him, one where he indulges himself as he strolls through the supermarket, casually picking up snacks and drinks he wanted.

He doesn;t get to do it often because of how busy he is. But when he has the time, he indulges it and enjoys it a lot. He thinks if you were with him, it would have been more enjoyable, though. You liked going and doing mundane things like this, as much as he does. He noticed that a lot since you both were always going out and eating together after shoots in Tokyo.

It’s been a few weeks since Jujutsu Kaisen Season 1 did the final reshoots. And he thinks he missed you. You both texted a lot last night, sure. But it’s a different thing when you both are together.

But right now you are enjoying the holiday you’re taking. And judging from the photos you sent him so far, you were happily enjoying it. From what you told him last night, you said you were waiting for your flight so you could visit family back home. You won't be back in New York until maybe next week.

Ryomen Sukuna could only sigh at himself. He has become so fond of your company that he can’t help but crave even more of it. He supposes that it’s just how good you were with him, how good for him. He hadn’t really had anyone be that good to him, he supposed. You’ve just brightened up his day to day, even if it was just to think of you.

As he turns the corner into the magazine aisle, something catches his scarlet eye and he stops— it was one of those glossy magazines, one that were for high fashion brands. In the front of its bright poppy cover featuring the ever beautiful shining you with a stunning smile, the headline reading, “Y/N L/N: Rising Star of Jujutsu Kaisen!”

His first thought is a mix of pride and mischief. He couldn’t help it. You were everywhere. And he just can’t help but feel warm about it. “Well, well, what do we have here?” he mutters to himself. Grinning, he picks up the magazine, flipping through it.

I should probably promote this. Doll worked hard on this, hm? he thinks, already plotting a plan. He pulls out his phone and goes live on social media, knowing his fans would be eager to join him for this impromptu session.

“Hey, everyone! So, I’m at the supermarket, and guess what I just found?” he announces, holding up the magazine for the camera, your face shining brightly on the cover. “Really pretty picture the editor chose really. I really love this one. I think everyone can agree!”

The chat explodes with comments.

“OMG, Y/N!”

“IS THAT A MAGAZINE?!”

“CAN WE GET A CLOSE-UP?!”

"MY WIFEEEEE SHE LOOKS SO GOOD!"

"CAN YOU FIGHT SUKUNA???"

"OH MY GOD, ONE CHANCE PLEASE PLEASEEE Y/N"

Sukuna chuckles, basking in the chaos as he starts to read some of the article aloud, his voice teasing. “Let’s see what the article has to say about my favorite rising star. Let’s read it together.” he begins, pretending to be a serious news anchor.

“‘Y/N has taken the entertainment world by storm with her captivating performances and undeniable charm, both on screen and on stage.’ Wow, they really nailed it, huh?” He glances at the camera, a playful smirk on his face. “They must’ve been taking notes from me. I mean, she is spending time with the best.”

The comments continue to flood in, fans egging him on.

“THIS IS SO CUTE! SUKUNA, KEEP PRAISING YOUR WOMAN OMG!”

“Please stop, I’m dying! He’s this love struck?”

“Is he flirting with her through a magazine?”

"He's never beating the 'im obssessed with y/n' allegations omg???"

"If my partner isn't like this, i genuinely don't want him, you guys???"

"How is Sukuna real? Like, how is he the only man to ever exist?"

Sukuna can’t help but lean into the banter. “Oh, it gets better. ‘Her recent work in Jujutsu Kaisen has captured the hearts of many, including veteran actor and co-star Ryomen Sukuna.’” He pauses dramatically, pretending to think deeply. “How does that feel? Being able to capture me, Y/N?”

The comments explode again.

“OH NO HE DIDN’T! RYOMEN SUKUNA, YOU’RE INSANE FOR THIS?????”

“IS HE FLIRTING?! GUYS GUYS CHAT IS THIS REAL????”

“THEY ARE SO CUTE TOGETHER! EVEN WHEN THEY’RE APART OMG”

"GOD PLEASE GIVE ME SOMETHING LIKE THIS PLEASE!!!"

"HIS EYES ARE JUST SO FULL OF LOVE WHILE STARING AT HER PICTURE OH MY GOD IM GONNA THROW UP???"

"HE'S DEFINITELY BUYING THE MAGAZINE AND STARE AT IT FOR A WHILE CAUSE???"

He continues reading, “Known for her ability to bring depth to her characters, Y/N is also a self-proclaimed cat mom.” He raises an eyebrow, grinning at the camera. “Noodle better watch out; he’s not the only one who’s going to be in the spotlight!”

Sukuna reads a little more, then leans back, looking directly into the camera. “Honestly, if you’re not following her yet, what are you doing? My doll’s the star of the century! She’s talented, funny, and—” he pretends to whisper with a grin. “—way cuter than I am.”

The comments go wild, with fans practically screaming in excitement.

“HE SAID IT! HE CALLED HER MY DOLL???”

“HE’S SO SUPPORTIVE OF HER OMGGGGGG!!!!”

“CAN YOU GUYS JUST DATE ALREADY?!”

"THEY'RE DEFINITELY DATING GOD IM JUST???"

"GIVE US THE CONFIRMATION FOR THE WEDDING ALREADY???"

"I SHIP I AM THE CAPTAIN OF THIS SHIPPPPPP!!!!"

As he wraps up the live session, Sukuna flashes a charming smile. “So, go pick up this magazine, check out Y/N, and maybe throw in a little love for me too while you’re at it. And don’t forget to tune into the next episode of Jujutsu Kaisen! See you later, everyone!”

With that, he ends the live stream, still chuckling to himself as he walks through the store, clutching the magazine. Little did he know, this playful moment would send fans into a frenzy, cementing your duo’s chemistry even further in the eyes of the public—and leaving you with a smile when you catch wind of his little stunt.

Later that evening, you’re lounging at home, scrolling through your social media feed, when you notice your notifications blowing up. Curious, you tap on your profile to find a flood of comments and tags about Sukuna’s recent live stream.

“Did you see Sukuna’s live? He was reading that magazine about you!”

“I’m crying! He’s so supportive! #Y/NandSukunaForever”

“He basically said he’s in love with you. Can you two just get married already?”

"Y/N, please. give him a shot already. That man is too in love with you."

"This man is doing promos for you like he's trying to save the planet. He's a good man, Savanah!"

"He's literally crazy about you, like??? Stopping in a supermarket to do a live to promote your magazine??? He's in love with you???"

You can’t help but grin, your heart racing at the thought of Ryomen Sukuna casually promoting you to all his fans. You scroll through the clips of his live, laughing at his playful banter and over-the-top expressions. You couldn’t help but just feel happiness beyond comprehension, knowing someone takes care of you even from afar.

Suddenly, a direct message pops up from him. Did you catch the live, doll?

You quickly type back, I did! You’re ridiculous! I can’t believe you read that whole thing.

His reply is immediate. Had to promote my favorite, cutest rising star! Can’t let Noodle take all the love in this three soul family, don’t you think?

You chuckle, imagining Sukuna strutting through the supermarket, holding your magazine like it’s the Holy Grail. What’s next? Are you going to host my fan club?

A few moments later, he replies, Absolutely! First meeting will be at our next sushi date. Wear something nice, doll.

Your cheeks flush at the thought. Then you better look sharp too, bub.

You just know he was smirking when he sent you the reply. When you opened it, your face turned even redder. Oh, of course, doll. I like making sure I look pretty enough to get your praises and kisses. You’re my doll, after all.

You could feel butterflies for a moment, and for a good while, you were just trying to keep yourself together. You couldn’t look like this while you were having dinner with your parents.

As the conversation continues, you can’t help but feel a warm flutter of excitement. Not only is he supporting you, but he’s also finding creative ways to keep the teasing and flirting alive in front of everyone.

The next day, you decide to take advantage of the buzz. You ended up in a book store where they had your magazines. You post a cute selfie of yourself holding the magazine, your expression playful and bright.

Thanks to my bubs @RyomenSukuna for the promotion! If you haven’t checked out this issue yet, what are you waiting for?

Almost instantly, your comments explode.

“YOU LOOK AMAZING! WE STANNNNNN”

“GET IT, GIRL! WE LOVE TO SEE IT!!!!”

“HE’S NOT WRONG, Y/N IS A QUEEN!”

"Y/N DOMINATION FR FR!!!"

"SUKUNA CAN YOU FIGHT CAN YOU FIGHT SUKUNA???"

"NAH CAUSE IF Y/N AND YOU AREN'T TOGETHER, IM SHOOTING MY SHOT!!!"

A few hours later, you see another tweet trending: “Sukuna’s magazine live should win an award for Best Promotion. Guys, if you’re not doing this for your girls, we don’t want you!”

You can’t help but laugh, picturing him reading through those thirsty tweets like a comedic genius.

Later that evening, as you prepare for bed, your phone buzzes again. It’s a video from Sukuna, looking slightly mischievous.

“Hey, everyone! Just wanted to follow up on my earlier live stream. The magazine is flying off the shelves, and I’m not saying it’s all because of my charming face, but… Okay, it’s mostly because of Y/N. You know how it is. Now, don’t just stop there—go buy that issue! And let’s be real, you’re doing it for me, but mostly for her! So, keep giving my doll all your love, okay? Thanks everyone! I’ll see you in the next live tweet for Jujutsu Kaisen!”

He winks at the camera, and you can’t help but smile. He’s just so endearing when he gets into these promotional modes. The next few weeks, it’s all the media could talk about.

They just catch wind of the buzz surrounding your magazine feature and Sukuna’s live stream. They keep getting more and more curious about you and Sukuna. After all, both of you were a mystery to them.

You’re both invited to a morning talk show to discuss the recent developments, and you can already sense the excitement and chaos that awaits.As you both sit on the couch, the host teases you both about the “flirting” and “couple energy” that everyone seems to be picking up on.

“You two are definitely giving off some serious vibes!” the host says, leaning in. “Sukuna, what do you have to say about the ongoing speculation?”

Sukuna grins, leaning back. “I mean, can you blame them? Who wouldn’t want to be with someone as talented and cute as Y/N? Can you blame everyone for being as dazzled about her as me?”

The audience erupts into cheers, and you can’t help but blush.

“Okay, but I’m just grateful for him.” you chime in, trying to regain composure. You grinned at him. “Sukuna’s just really is such a great supportive soul for me.… And such a darling to me. You always are, aren’t you, bub? Dramatic too, but well. Love you all the same!”

“Dramatic? Me? Never.” he replies, feigning innocence while smirking. “I’m just here to make sure everyone knows who the real star is. And well, who the real star of my day to day is, don’t you think?”

The banter continues, and by the end of the show, your dynamic has captured the hearts of viewers everywhere. Social media is ablaze with clips of your interview, further fueling the speculation and excitement.

As you leave the studio, you can’t help but think about how much fun this whole experience has been. The teasing, the playful banter, and Sukuna’s unabashed support have created a whirlwind of excitement that you never expected.

Later, you check your phone one last time before bed. A new tweet catches your eye: “Sukuna and Y/N have officially made it onto my ‘favorite couples’ list. The world needs more of this!”

With a smile on your face, you finally drift off to sleep, dreaming of what other adventures await you and Sukuna in this unexpected and thrilling journey together.

➽──────────❥

YOU WERE STILL SLEEPY. But well, what could you do? Life goes on, with how your schedule is today. The day of the big fashion show had finally arrived, and excitement buzzed in the air as you and Sukuna prepared to strut down the runway.

The energy backstage was palpable—models hurrying to and from makeup stations, designers giving last-minute instructions, and the rhythmic clack of high heels against the glossy floor echoing in the room.

Sukuna, leaning casually against the wall, shot you a knowing glance. He had that smirk on his face, the one that hinted at his unshakable confidence. He was effortlessly cool, and you couldn't help but feed off that energy.

The theme of the show was glamorous rebellion—a fusion of elegance and edge, where bold designs and striking details were the focus. You were dressed in a breathtaking ensemble that turned heads even before the show began.

A sleek, figure-hugging dress with shimmering embellishments, its dramatic cut-outs giving you just the right mix of sophistication and daring. The heels you wore? Absolutely lethal—sky-high stilettos that elongated your figure, giving you the sensation that you could conquer not just the runway, but the world.

Meanwhile, Sukuna, in a custom-tailored suit that hugged his broad shoulders and accentuated his muscular build, was the perfect counterpart. The deep crimson of his suit jacket contrasted sharply against his black shirt, and the subtle metallic details gleamed under the runway lights. He exuded power and charisma, each step deliberate and commanding.

As you both stepped onto the runway, the atmosphere changed. The lights flashed in rhythm with the music, casting you and Sukuna in a dazzling, almost surreal glow. The crowd erupted into cheers, their excitement infectious.

The music pulsed through your veins, and with Sukuna by your side, you felt invincible. His smirk widened as he caught a few admiring gazes from the audience, and with each stride, the energy between you both grew, palpable and electrifying.

Each step was flawless. The click of your heels against the runway, perfectly timed with Sukuna's strides, created a symphony of dominance.

You could feel eyes on you, admiration and awe blending with envy, but none of that mattered. In that moment, it was just you and Sukuna—a force to be reckoned with. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a mischievous glint playing in his gaze, as if daring you to outshine him.

But this wasn’t a competition. It was an effortless partnership, the two of you ruling the runway together. Every turn, every pose, was perfectly synchronized, as though you had rehearsed this a hundred times over.

The lights continued to flicker, cameras flashing from every direction, immortalizing this moment. And as you reached the end of the runway, Sukuna extended his hand to you in a gentlemanly yet teasing manner. You took it, lifting your chin slightly, knowing that together, you had owned the night.

But halfway down the runway, disaster struck. One of your heels snapped, sending you wobbling dangerously to one side. You gasped, struggling to maintain your balance as you tried to recover. Just as you thought you might tumble, Sukuna swiftly reached out, his grip firm around your waist.

“Got you, doll!” he exclaimed, pulling you closer to him as he steadied you. The crowd gasped, and in that split second, you realized you were more grateful than embarrassed.

With a quick wink and a playful flourish, Sukuna helped you regain your composure, but the damage was done—your heel was officially broken. You could feel the adrenaline rush as you both finished the walk, the crowd cheering wildly, clearly enamored by the unexpected moment.

After the show, backstage was a flurry of activity. You hopped on one foot, trying to assess the damage to your broken heel when Sukuna, still riding the high of the show, turned to you. “You know, you could always go for a more comfortable look, doll.” he joked, gesturing toward his own stylish shoes.

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “And give up my fashion moment? Never!”

But as you tried to walk towards the exit, it became clear that you weren’t going to make it far without some help. Sensing your struggle, Sukuna stepped in, effortlessly scooping you up into his arms.

“Let’s get you to the car, fashionista.” he said with a playful grin, carrying you like a princess, drawing surprised looks from the crew and other models.

As you both exited the venue, a photographer snapped a picture of the moment. You could hear the clicking of cameras as people captured the scene—Sukuna, the effortlessly cool actor, carrying you, the fabulous rising star.

That single picture ended up circulating online like wildfire. The caption read: “Is this the most romantic moment of the fashion show? Sukuna carrying Y/N after her heel broke!”

The fan reactions were immediate and overwhelming.

“OMG, I can’t handle this cuteness! He genuinely loves her so much!”

“HE CARRIED HER! SOMEONE CALL THE AMBULANCE, I CAN’T BREATHE!”

“Y/N is literally living my dream. Sukuna is such a gentleman!”

You couldn’t help but smile as you read through the tweets, watching the fan base collectively lose their minds over the moment. You glanced up at Sukuna, who was now scrolling through his phone, clearly amused by the frenzy.

“Look at them go, doll.” he chuckled, a mix of pride and mischief in his eyes. “They’re all acting like we just starred in a rom-com.”

“Maybe we should consider it, bub.” you teased back, leaning your head against his shoulder as he carried you toward the car. “I mean, we both get the same rom-com lead offers. We might as well try.”

“Hm, I’ll think about it.”

“You better!”

As you reached the vehicle, Sukuna gently set you down, but not before the paparazzi snapped more pictures, capturing the laughter and playful banter between you both. You felt like the luckiest person in the world, surrounded by glitz and glamor, but even more, you cherished these moments with him.

Later that night, as you sat together scrolling through the flood of posts about the fashion show, Sukuna turned to you, a smirk dancing on his lips. “So, you think I should carry you everywhere now?”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “Only if you promise to be this charming every time.”

“Deal, doll.” he replied with a sly smirk on his face. “But only if I get a kiss each and every time.”

You returned his sly smile. “You drive a heavy bargain, you know?”

“Well, I like good compensation, doll.”

“Hm. I’ll think about it, darling.”

And just like that, another adventure in this whirlwind of a journey began, one where fans eagerly awaited every twist and turn of your ever-evolving story.

The following days were a whirlwind of activity, with the aftermath of the fashion show still buzzing across social media. Every time you opened your phone, there were new memes, edits, and posts highlighting Sukuna’s chivalrous act of carrying you out.

One particularly popular meme featured a split image: on one side, a picture of you in your stunning outfit with the broken heel, and on the other, a screenshot of Sukuna’s smirk as he effortlessly carried you away. The caption read, “When you break a heel, but your knight in shining armor has your back.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you scrolled through the threads filled with comments like, “Where do I sign up for a carry from Sukuna?” and “No, but I need someone to love me like this. I need someone to lovingly help me in my fashion emergencies!”

“Looks like you’ve become a trendsetter, doll.” Sukuna teased, plopping down next to you on the couch. “Maybe we should make this a regular thing—fashion shows and heel emergencies.”

“Only if you promise to always be there to catch me, darling.” you shot back, smirking.

As you both continued to scroll through the chaos, an idea struck you. “We should do a follow-up interview about the fashion show! Imagine how much the fans would love to hear us talk about it, especially the heel incident.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You think they’d want to hear about our dramatic moment on the runway? You falling apart and me swooping in to save the day?”

“Absolutely!” You nodded, enthusiasm bubbling up. “I mean, it’s practically a rom-com waiting to happen. Plus, we can spend time together and promote our upcoming work together!”

“Alright, I’m in. But only if you let me wear those ridiculous heels next time….so you know, you can catch me too, doll.” he grinned, nudging you.

You laughed out loud. “Alright, darling. Let’s find you a pair when we go shopping today.”

“Oh, that’s going to be a challenge then.”

“Hm, why not? It’s fun when we’re together in challenges!”

The next day, you both headed to the studio for the interview. As you settled into your seats, the host couldn’t help but chuckle when he saw you both. “So, the world has been going crazy over your little ‘heel disaster’ at the recent fashion show. Sukuna, what was going through your mind when you scooped Y/N up?”

Sukuna leaned back with a playful grin. “Honestly? I just thought it was a great opportunity to show off my impressive muscles and save the day. Plus, someone needed to make sure she didn’t fall on her face in front of everyone. I’d do anything for my doll, right here, you know?”

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. “He’s so humble, isn’t he?Like, darling — come and get your credit too! It was more like a dramatic rescue scene, complete with the swoon-worthy soundtrack.”

The interview continued, with the two of you sharing laughs and stories about your experiences. Fans in the comments couldn’t get enough of the chemistry, throwing out heart emojis and excited remarks.

“Do you think you two will collaborate on a fashion line next?” one viewer asked, prompting a wave of excitement among the audience.

“Maybe we’ll do a ‘Y/N & Sukuna’ collection, won’t we, darling?” you said, leaning in. “You know, something chic but also… practical for when you break your heels!”

Sukuna feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart. “Practical? I’m all about the drama! But I could see us doing something fun. Maybe some ‘Sukuna-approved’ footwear that won’t break under pressure? I think you’d love that, doll.”

As the interview was winding down, the host leaned in with a mischievous smile and asked the question that everyone had been waiting for: “So, any truth to the rumors that you two are dating?”

You barely had time to process it before you and Sukuna exchanged a look. Without missing a beat, both of you burst into uncontrollable laughter, the kind where you had to clutch your stomach and wipe away tears. Sukuna’s laugh? A deep, rumbling sound that somehow made the entire situation even funnier.

“I mean, who knows?” you said, still giggling as you tried to regain composure. “We care a lot for each other, though. But, you know, that’s our business!” You flashed a playful wink at the camera, trying to keep things light, but it was clear you were having too much fun with the moment. "Though, who wouldn’t want a guy who carries you when your heel breaks? My darling here is great with helping me out.”

Sukuna, not one to let you steal the spotlight, leaned in closer to the camera with a sly grin, his voice dropping an octave as he added, “I mean, who wouldn’t want to go and carry you and take care of you, doll?” He tilted his head in mock seriousness. “I love caring for you.”

The comment section immediately went into overdrive. The fans couldn’t handle it.

“THE FLIRTING?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!”

“STOPPP THIS IS TOO MUCH MY HEART CAN’T TAKE IT.”

“If they’re not dating, then what's the real point of my life in this world, you guys?”

“Someone pls send help I’ve forgotten how to breathe.”

“Sukuna saying ‘I love caring for you’ like it’s casual?!? They’re married and I know it.”

“Can they just admit it already? WE KNOW.”

After the interview wrapped up, you both waved to the camera, still giggling, as the host thanked you. As soon as the cameras cut, your phones exploded with notifications. It seemed like every social media platform was on fire, fans spiraling into a frenzy over the playful banter.

There were memes of Sukuna carrying you like a princess, edits of the two of you in wedding attire, and screenshots of the moment Sukuna leaned into the camera like he was making a declaration of eternal love.

“I told you this would happen, bub.” you said, showing Sukuna the screen full of memes.

He glanced over and chuckled. “What, people can’t handle a little chemistry?” He shrugged nonchalantly, but you could see the hint of amusement in his eyes. He was enjoying this just as much as you were.

“Well, I guess we’re just going to have to keep them guessing.” you replied, throwing him a teasing grin.

Sukuna leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head. “Or maybe we just keep giving them something to talk about.”

“Well, I love talking about you anyway.” You look at him with a smile. “Don’t you like doing the same?”

He pauses for a second, but grins. “But don’t you already know that?”

“Yeah, I do. I just like hearing it.”

“Cheeky one, aren’t you, doll?”

You grin even wider at him. “Well, my favorite act of love are words of affirmation.”

As you walked out of the studio together, Sukuna looked at you with a smirk. “But you know, I think I could get used to this whole ‘carrying you’ thing. It really keeps the fans on their toes.”

“Oh, for sure.” you replied, nudging him playfully. “Just wait until they start shipping us harder.”

“Let them do their thing.” he said, shrugging nonchalantly. “I’ll just keep carrying you around. I’m like a knight in shining armor, after all.”

You both laughed, knowing that the playful teasing and affectionate banter were only part of the adventure you were embarking on together. As the days went by, the trend only grew, with fans eagerly anticipating every new development in your story.

With each passing moment, the excitement around your dynamic seemed to intertwine your lives more and more, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something truly special.

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ladykailitha · 25 days ago

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Icarus Part 25

Damn. I actually hate seeing that number up there. Because that means it's done. Eight months, twenty-five chapters, 52895 words, and one hell of a ride.

I'll start posting the sequel on Tuesday, and will post Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays until it's done. I hope to get it done before October's end. But that's not looking likely at the moment.

But once it's done, I will post the epilogue. This was actually written first and was a way for me to flesh out the band members. Then I just wanted to dive right in to writing the full story. A link to the original idea here.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24

The rest of the American tour while it had its ups and downs was pretty much was uneventful. When Steve got back to Cali, he got some actual therapy from someone Gareth’s therapist, Dr. Sam Owens recommended to him. To not only deal with the abandonment issues left by his parents and Nancy but to help deal with the sudden onslaught of fame.

It was going well.

It was the therapist that had strongly recommended going on the vacation with his two best friends. That really helped put his life in perspective.

They were out celebrating Gareth’s one year of being sober and everyone had been invited. Jeff, Brian, and Eddie, of course. Even Vickie made it out. Dustin, Will, Mike, Max, Lucas, Ellie, Hopper, Robin, all the members of The Fallen, sans persona. Gareth had really become friends with all of them, yes even Steve. Gareth and Shane became really close. It was nice to see.

“Cheers!” Jeff said holding up their glasses of sparkling apple cider that they had all brought to share.

“Cheers!” the rest of them cried, clinking their glasses together.

They had rented out a nice surf and turf restaurant for the occasion and everyone was catching up. The owner was a friend of Jonathan’s, Argyle Rivera. He had gotten his start with a pizza food truck and it just exploded.

“So what did you and Mike decide to do?” Steve asked when there was a lull in the conversation. “I know you two weren’t sure the last time I was in Hawkins.”

Mike and Will shared a bashful look before Mike said, “I wrote a children’s book and Will illustrated it. We sent it out to a couple of different publishers so we’re just waiting to hear back.”

“That’s amazing!” Dustin cried. “You guys are going to be awesome.”

“Yeah,” Will said brightly. “I finally convinced Jonathan into going in to photography at the local community collage and he’s doing really well.”

“Nancy is going to school, too,” Mike said quietly, knowing how most of the group felt about his sister.

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “Yeah? What is the once great Nancy Wheeler going to be studying?”

Mike perked up a little that someone had taken a interest in what he said. “She’s actually going into journalism. Especially to be a war corespondent. After everything rightfully fell apart after the incident with The Fallen and Corroded Coffin, she took a hard look at her life and decided she hated the person she had become. So she’s been in therapy and has gotten into her dream school of Emerson.”

“That’s good,” Steve said quietly. Robin gave his a hand gentle squeeze and he returned it with a grateful smile.

“What are doing next, Ellie?” Brian asked. “Designing more epic costumes for the rich and famous? I saw that dress you designed for Lupita Nyong’o for the premier of her new movie. That was a gorgeous shade of purple.”

Ellie’s face dimpled in the force of her wide, happy smile. “Something like that. I’m just glad the dress turned out so well. I’ll be heading back to New York, to stay this time. I got a job at a fashion house that I’m really excited for.”

“What about you and Dusty?” Lucas asked, tilting his head. “I thought things were going great.”

Both Dustin and Ellie share a blushing smile.

“We’re still together,” Dustin replied. “I’ll be in Boston and she’ll be in New York. We’ll going to try and make it work.”

Max nodded. “Long distance can suck, but if the other person is worth it you can make it work.” She nudged Lucas’s shoulder and he grinned back.

“So you didn’t get traded to Lakers like you wanted?” Gareth asked Lucas.

He shook his head. “Maybe next year. But in the mean time, Max has a couple interviews at Tony Hawk’s video game company as a mo-cap performer for the female characters in his games.”

Everyone oohed and ahhed and congratulated her.

“I don’t have the job yet,” she muttered, but happily soaked up the attention anyway.

Dustin turned to Steve and Robin. “When are you two going to do something with your lives?”

Eddie winced and Steve and Robin didn’t even have to glance at each other to be suddenly on the same wavelength of doom.

If this was an anime you would have have seen the dark waves behind their heads.

“We make good money doing what we do,” Robin said darkly. “Yeah, it’s a bit jack of all trades, but it’s fun. We’re never stuck doing the same thing. We get travel all over the world. We get to meet famous people and all the perks of fame with the drawbacks of having our privacy invaded on the regular.”

“Jack of all trades, but master of none,” Dustin said to be pedantic. “Don’t you guys want to do something specific, like a teacher or a doctor?”

Robin snorted. “No.”

Chrissy hand covered hers, and Robin gave her a squeeze back. She was fine, just annoyed.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “And I don’t why being a jack of all trades is bad thing. Focusing on one thing is great for the people who can do it, but I love the different jobs. Roadie one tour, PA another, then EMT the next. It’s great.”

Dustin frowned, stabbing his plate with his fork.

“My therapist says people are like plants,” Gareth said, “some people are trees and they grow up slowly. Some are bamboo and in the right environment shoot up super fast. But some people are like periwinkle and grow out sideways. Robin and Steve are like that. It’s still growth, just not the growth you want them to have.”

“I guess,” he huffed. He looked up at Steve. “Are you happy doing what you do?”

Steve and Eddie shared a glance. “Yes, for all its faults, I am very happy.”

He nodded and they went back to celebrating Gareth’s year of sobriety. But under the cover of the loud celebration and raucous laughter, Vickie and Simon chatted quietly to themselves.

Steve and Eddie lay on the bed in Eddie’s mansion curled up together after sex.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asked Steve when he had curled up under his chin and held on tight.

“We were out celebrating,” he murmured, “and I couldn’t even tell them we were in a relationship.”

“Most of the people there already knew, babe,” Eddie murmured. But when Steve didn’t say anything it clicked. “You wanted to tell the kids. Especially after the bomb Mike dropped about Nancy moving on.”

Steve nodded.

Eddie scooted down the bed to look Steve in the eye. “Whatever you do or don’t tell them is entirely up to you I don’t care either way.”

“You don’t care that we’ll never get to go on dates or be seen holding hands or kissing?” Steve asked seriously.

Eddie shook his head. “Do you want to know why?”

“I guess,” Steve said with a half shrug.

“Because when I first got into the music business,” Eddie murmured, “I slept with anyone who would give a passing fancy.”

Steve looked up at him in confusion. “But I thought you already had a crush on me then?”

“I did,” Eddie confirmed. “But here’s the thing, sweetheart, do you know who’s partners get torn apart the most in celebrity relationships?”

Steve shook his head.

“Those with non-famous partners,” Eddie said. “If your partner is anything other than a C or B list celebrity when you’re an A-list, you get called out for ‘slumming it’ and their partners get called all sorts of nasty names, but especially ‘gold digger’. Which is the last thing I wanted for you.”

“Is that why you were okay with being with after you found out I was secretly famous?”

Eddie rose up and tackled Steve into the pillows. “You listen close, Steve Harrington. That was absolutely not why. I didn’t even show up with the flowers intending on confessing anything other than knowing your secret. It was like I suddenly saw all the facets of the diamond I’d been admiring for years and realizing any reason I had to not put myself forward were stupid.”

Steve blinked up at him in awe. “Oh.”

“Yeah, baby, ‘oh’,” Eddie huffed. “Continuing to protect you from the shame and humiliation of the slings and arrows of the media is my mission in life, okay? And if you ever decide to come out, either as bisexual as Steve or as Steve as Abbadon, I will be there for you. One hundred percent.”

Steve’s eyes welled up and he nodded. “Okay.” His lips quivered. “I love you so much. I just want you to be happy.”

Eddie kissed him fiercely. “I know you do and you make me very happy. The Fallen, Abbadon, being closeted? All that? That’s just a part of you that I love.” He bounced onto the bed. “In fact...”

He grabbed his phone and started going through it. “Eureka!” He turned the phone around to a paint of a night, shielding a maiden from the sun and a large crowd of people. This is us, babe. I am the knight and you are my maiden. I won’t get tired, or upset that you need protecting.”

Steve blushed. He sat up and pulled up his knees to his chest. “When we first started coming up with names for us, we didn’t originally all have the same letter.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “Wait, really?”

Steve shook his head. “Spence was just Death. Shane was always Astraeus. Simon was struggling with finding a name that fit.”

“And did you have your name picked out?” Eddie asked gently, knowing where this was going.

He pursed his lips and nodded. “I didn’t think we’d make it this far. I really thought we would have crashed and burned by now.” He closed his eyes and hung his head. “Part of the myth with Icarus and the wax wings that people forget was that he was flying all over the place. That if he flied straight and true like his father suggested, he would have survived. But he flew too close to the seas as well as the sun.”

Steve sighed and then looked over at Eddie. “And that’s what I thought I was doing with the band. Flying too low with the fact that we were preps wanting to break into the metal scene and then flying too high with the personas and masks. I was going to not only wreck my life but the lives of people I cared about.”

He let out a low shuddering breath. “That maybe I should have listened to my father. To go to college, to get a degree in business, to fly straight.”

“So what changed your mind?” Eddie asked. “Other than Shane wanting everyone to have all the same letter as a middle finger to everyone trying to guess your identities, I guess.”

Steve let out a watery chuckle. “Shane reminded me of the beginning of Icarus’s story. That he had grown up in the labyrinth, never seeing the sky. How could his father had not seen that of course Icarus was going to play the second they were out? That, yes they were fleeing for their lives, but this was the first time his son had seen the sun, felt the breeze on his face and touched the waves on the sea.”

“But if Daedalus had played with Icarus instead of yelling at him, his father would have been able to keep him from getting too close to the things that would have harmed him,” Steve finished. “That he would have been there to catch his son when he began to fall.”

“So what was the lesson?” Eddie prompted.

“I wasn’t Icarus,” Steve said. “I was always free, I might have fallen from grace according to my parents, but that like God in the Christian story, they were cruel and cast me out because what they wanted for me wasn’t what I wanted.”

Eddie smiled. “So you became Abbadon instead. The one that fell but God still relied on to destroy the wicked. The opposite of Steve Harrington. The boy that rose up like a phoenix from the ashes to be better than his parents dreamed.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. Icarus was the first to fall mythos wise, but Abbadon was the one people fear coming back.”

Eddie pulled him close. “Well, you’re my angel, now. Fallen or not, I’m not giving you up for anything.”

Steve kissed him softly. “I’m putting a lot of trust you, Munson. Don’t fuck this up.”

Eddie laughed and kissed him fiercely. Then he proceeded to show Steve all the ways loved him.

Steve knew he might always have doubts and fears, but now he had the support system he always needed.

It was more than past time to fly and in Eddie’s arms there was no limit to how high he could go now.

And he wouldn’t want it any other way.

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina @garden-of-gay

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar steve harrington #rockstar au

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solar4seekstron · 8 days ago

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Transformers One x Reader: Awakening Chapter Five

Chapter Five: I’m Done Saving You

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Six, Optimus Prime Ending, Megatrons Ending, Elita Ones Ending, B-127 Ending, Bonus+ Deadlocks Ending

Transformers One x Cybertronian!GN!reader

TW/Tags: non? Based on the title you already know what’s coming. Good luck nerds.

(Chapter 5 is finally here and I’m pretty excited for this one. Sadly there is much to add for Elita and reader so most likely in the next chapter. Sorry guys the movie isn’t making it any easier for me or just can’t think of any that doesn’t ruin the movie too much. I was dreading to type in the scene where D. Shoots Orion and it didn’t feel right to add in the expressions of Y/N, Elita and B because that moment is for D-16 and Orion in my opinion. Oh boy the next chapter is gonna hurt but I want to make y’all happy so here we go.)

(The next chapter will be the last one and then 5 bonus endings after)

*At Iacon City-

Y/N was about to sneak into the city the same way the gaurds were able to. Paying o mind if others see them as they fly in their alt mode. Landing in an alley between buildings. The view clear of sentinels tower. They would then look around and say. The bots they once saw to be taller then them was now around the Sam seize as them having a cog now. They would let out a sigh and then walk out making their eye to the tower. Knowing if they were in their alt mode. They would be questioned. But as they walked passing the road and walking on the side walk as they walked around. Seeing that there’s an alleyway that seems to lead to the tower sooner. They. Go down that path. As they walk someone then grabs their hand. Causing them to quickly turn around pin the person against the wall.

”Woah easy there friend I just wanted to tell- Y/N” It was Deadlock

”Lo- uh sorry you got me confused with someone else.”

They would then try to leave but deadlock would grab their wrist and pull them back and turns them around putting his had on their shoulder.

“Y/N it is you! But. But you have a cog!” Y/N was just 5 inches shorter then him now.

”Uh yeah I should really get going.” Deadlock would rests his hand on their hip as he looked at them. They would place their hands on his shoulders to try to create some distance

”Y/N where have you been and how do you have a cog. Come on lets catch up.”

”Deadlock I would love to but I must go. My friend is possibly in danger and I should go make sure they’re safe.” Deadlock looks almost disappointed. Then over the comm its heard his boss is calling for him. He then sighs

”Fine but seeing that you have a cog now. Come by the club and we can catch up.”

”Will do Deadlock now I must go. Good to see you friend.” They pat his shoulders as he finally out his hands off them. Watching as they leave before turning around to head to work

Y/N continues to walk to the tower then once seeing the security they come up with an idea remembering what sentinel said the day of the race. They would then go up to the two guards

”Heeeey guys name’s Y/N sentinel said he was expecting me?” The two gaurds look at eachother then at them. Nodding then letting them in after giving them directions to the personal quarter sentinel told them to tell you to go to

Y/N would then walk in able to go through a door to the others sneaking around trying to find the room while also being quiet. Soon they would peak through a door and see D-16, B-127, and the other guards on their knees and their hands tied behind their back as sentinel walks past them in a line speaking an d having his average smirk on his face

“I don’t understand. Why are we still alive?”

“Look at this rowdy bunch. The High Guard. You know you guys have been tough to find. Every trip to the surface I have been searching for you.”

“Tracking the bots in the cave led me right to them.”

“You captured Starscream.”

“It was too easy.”

“I’m going to rip you apart piece by piece and that your death is painful and you’ll regret the day you”

“You sound ridiculous. It’s weird. Oh D-16 what a tragic story you’ll be. Atop the leaderboard in your sector. Secretly a traitor.”

“I’m not the traitor. You’re the traitor.’

“Nuh-uh. You. All of you are traitors. You’ve been working with the Quintessons to sabotage atoge my expeditions You’re the reason I haven’t found the matrix of leadership yet.”

“None of that is true!”

“Oh trust me all of that will be very true when I am executing you in front of all of Iacon because down here the truth is what I make it.”

Sentinel would get into Bs face before D would take a step.

“Well well. What’s this about?”

“I’m not kneeling in front of you.”

“Feeling confident are we?”

“You dont scare me. You wanna know why?”

“Please.”

“Because I don't anything else left to lose. You took it all.”

“I sure did.”

Sentinel would then punch D.

“Ah megatronus prime. Of course you are a fan. Megatronus was the coolest prime! The biggest. The Baddest. The Toughest! That's why after I killed him. I took his cog for myself.”

“He was greater than you’ll ever be!”

“I don’t know I’m pretty great but I can understand why you would wanna wear his face over mine. Here, lets make sure it doesn’t come off.”

Sentinel would put the sticker back then starts engraving the deception insignia into his chest. The others only able to watch. Y/N knows that they have seen enough and without a second thought they open the door and as the others were about to notice in a moment Y/N was running pulled out their blade. Putting the blade against his neck catching him by surprise. The gaurds and airachnid pointing her guns at them

“Shoot me and he dies!”

“Ahh Y/N I see you have a cog as well-“

“Shut up! Sentinel prime is it true you did it all for power…Is it?!” Sentinel then scoffs

”Well of course. Any Prim-“

”You are no prime! And I swear in the memory and honor of my friends…to B and D I’ll-“ Then Y/N is shot on their side by one of the guard causing them to fall onto their knees as sentinel stands before them.

”Well isn’t this just a shame. You know I was pretty excited to work with you. Of course it not including the two miners you so cared for. Maybe there is use for you seeing that you’re all about honor. And you’re not labeled dead yet by the public.” Y/N still on the ground. The bullet almost through their waist almost to the center

”We’ll be sure the best doctor of Iacon will take care of that wound” He would then grab their chin making their face look up fullly facing him after he took a knee. he then snaps his fingers. Two guards walking and grabbing them by the arms picking them up.

”Make sure they’re well taken care of” Y/N was then dragged and taken towards the door they cam from.

*Orion-

“Ooookaaay. I-I can do this.”

*At the mines-

“You can’t be serious. We just worked 22 shifts without a break. These miners need rest and time to repair.”

“Sentinel Prime wants more energon. So get back into the mines! Before I make you go back in-“

“Is that-“

“Orion?”

“Jazz.”

“Is that really you?”

“Yeah I know I uh- look a little different.”

“Little? There’s nothing little about you.”

“How is this possible?”

“Sentinel told us you died from your race injuries.”

“Sentinel is a lair. Look, I know sounds coming from me. I was never the most focused. Miner but as you can see everything’s different now.”

“I went to the surface. And I learned the truth. My friends. We were all born with transformation cogs. And then sentinel. He stole them from us! He took away our ability to make our own decisions. He stole our freedom. But now I’m offering you your first real choice. You can work a twenty-third shift and mine yourself to death. Or fight back against sentinel with me. Right now.”

“How are we supposed to do that?”

“We can’t fight. We don’t have cogs.”

“What defines a transformer is not the cog in its chest but the spark that resides in their core. A spark that gives you the will to make your world better and that spark sentinel can never take from us.”

“There’s not enough of us. We need an army.”

“And we have one. Elita is bringing troops. We are not alone in this. If we want to be in control of our own destiny we will have to fight for it. Now is the time for us to stand up. For ourselves! Stand up for this injustice. I promise you this fight will be worth it. Follow me! Nothing can stop us when we stand together. Together as one.”

“Elita it’s time.”

“You got it. Buckle up blinky. We’re going in.”

Back to the others D heard everything sentinel and Y/N said. Hearing the guards take Y/N away as they groan in pain. He the tried to stand up again.

“Not a good idea.”

“D stay down.”

D would stand up once more

“Well that’s a shame. You really were a great miner.”

”D! Run!….”

Sentinel points his blaster at D as D watches. Waiting.

“We’ve got a breach! Protect Sentinel!” A guard would hit D to fall back again as another would join them to protecting sentinel. Y/N was still carried away. Now further from where the direction the train was heading as the guards noticed

“Ok they spotted us. It’s about to get bumpy.”

“High Guard. Eject.”

“There’s too many! We have to abort.”

“We’re not going to make it.”

From there many miners with jet packs fly up and start fighting sentinels guards. Helping the others

“Lets break some protocol.”

“That’s what I’m talking about Pax!”

Pax was then attacked against the front of the train by Airachnid

“Ooooh that’s intense.”

“You can’t win miner! I see everything!”

“That’s right you do! Except the tower we’re about to crash into.”

Orion would then kick Airachnid off him. Hitting the window with his elbow breaking it to get in and the train soon hits the tower. Hitting Sentinel

(HE DID THE POSE FHGFGJFGVUDKKYKUCFKUVU)

“Hey!”

“What has he done to you?!”

“This is nothing! Compared to what I’m going to do to sentinel.”

”Y/N!!” The guards have left leaving them on the floor. They would then stand up and put a sort fo tissue over their bullet hole. Something ratchet gave them before. They would make their way to the two limping a bit. Orion going up to them

”I’m fine. We need to stop sentinel.” They say as they look at Orion and D. D unable to take his eyes off the energon coming of them as Orion does the same

“Soundwave, free the prisoners.”

“I know how to stop him. Airachnid is the answer-“

“I’m doing this my way!”

“D!”

“Yes! Woah! I got a battle mask. Elita! Battle mask! It appeared when this guy tried to- Knife hands? I have knife hands! Haha! Baddassatron!”

“Where’s sentinel?!”

There was then an explosion causing D, Y/N and Orion to fall forward. They would then hide behind some rocks as they then hear sentinel

“You pathetic little twits. Did you really think you can knock down everything that I have built?!”

“It’s over sentinel! You can’t escape the truth!”

“What truth? That I pluck the cogs from your newborn chests. Forced you to mine so that I can pay off the Quintessons and live like a king. None of that matters! Because the truth is what I make it!”

“In coming!”

D and sentinel will then have their own fight as the three try to think of a plan

“He’s too strong!”

“I have a plan. We need Airachnid.”

“Airachnid?!”

”Are you crazy?!

“We need her memory.”

“Where is she?!”

Elita was tackled by Airachnid

“Found her!”

“Elita. Do not break her. Bring her to the broadcast station. We'll meet you there.”

“Easier said than done!”

“I said don't break her!”

“Relax I’m being. Very. Gentle!”

“Orion! Orion look! Knife hands!”

“I can see that!”

”Yeah Bee!!” They then show their sword blades they picked up earlier showing they glow as well. B then cheers excited

“I’m gonna cut these guys watch! Come here!”

“You can jab them later!”

“GO! I’ll stay here and help D!”

”All right b careful!”

“Yeah!”

The three make thier way to the other tower. D and sentinel continueing to fight eachother. Y/N staying behind and joining the fight with D

“Um. E-excuse me, you can’t be in here.”

B then starts destroying the place

“B. These are not the ad guys.”

“Why did you cut the door?”

“What? No I didn’t cu- I didn’t- uh that wasn’t- I didn’t- it was ready like that. Right?!”

“Yes that’s right It- it was already like- yeah-was already like that.”

Orion then got to work and Elita made sure Airachnid was on the table her hologram memory showing.

“Attention. Iacon city. Stand by for a live transmission from Sentinel Prime.”

During thre fight D and sentinel keep fighting all ove the room causing more damag. Y/N waits for the right moment and once sentinel was believing he has D. Y/N jumps and transformers their alt mode on its side and spins fast pushing him off D (Think like that scene Megatron does in TF Earthspark to skyward during that big battle scene.) Scratching his paint job as they land right next to D pulling out their blades protective over D.

”D are you alright?!” D stands up and shakes his head a bit trying to stay awake

”This is my fight. Go to-“

”Will you quiet that! You can finish him off after I get a good hi-“

Y/N was then tackled by sentinel being pinned to the ground as they were far enough from D. Y/N would fight him getting a couple good hits and sentinel getting a few more hits on them. After kicking him of them D then side body slams sentinel. Y/N struggling to stand up as D then starts fighting sentinel again. Y/N is badly injured and struggles to stand. When they look up at the two. D is back on the ground and sentinel on top pointing his blaster as him again

“What’s wrong D-16? Rise up!”

“That’s why after I killed him. That’s why after I killed him. I took his cog for myself. Cog for myself. What truth? That I pluck the cogs from your newborn chests. Forced you to mine so that I can pay off Quintessons and live like a king! What truth? That I pluck the cogs from your newborn chests. Forced you to mine so that I can pay off Quintessons and live like a king! I’m working my miners as hard as I can. I swear I’ll get you the rest! I’m working my miners as hard as I can. I swear I’ll get you the rest!”

“Lier!”

“We trusted you!”

“Traiter!”

“Pax, we did it!”

After sentinel was distracted Y/N was able to make their way to D. Helping them up while holding their waist where they bleed a bit at. D would stand back up with their help.

”Stay back you helped enough!” He yells at them. Knowing they helped make sentinel get weaker after hitting him with their blades.

“D NO!”

D then charges at him. Causing them both to fall off the tower.

“D!”

The two would fly across the city hitting towers until they eventually land. Y/N would transform as they gain more strength while swirling a bit they’re able to make it but pretty far from the two transforming and is still weak staying on the knees as they watch the two fight. Slowly standing up.

“D-16. We can lead Cybertron together! Don’t have to do this.”

D would walk up to sentinel pointing his canon until Orion runs and jumps D. Stopping him.

“What are you doing?!”

“It’s over D. Everyone in Iacon knows the truth”

“So do I! He took everything from us! I have to do this!”

“No you don’t! Rebuilding Iacon cannot begin with an execution.”

“He deserves to die! Can’t you see that?!”

“We’re better than this. Don’t be like sentinel.”

“Pax. You need to get out of my way before I move you myself.”

“D listen-“

D would punch Orion and kick him further for Orion to stay on the ground. Then walking back to sentinel as sentinel was still on the floor. But Orion soon gets in the way. Orion wa shot shocking D and the others. As Orion was about to fall off the cliff D was able to catch him in time by the wrist

“No. No no no no no. Why..Why did you do that! Why!?”

D would be breathing heavy as so many emotions went through his head.

“D….no”

“I’m done saving you!”

#transformers one #transformers one x reader #orion pax x reader #x reader #d 16 x reader #elita 1 x reader #transformers #transformers x reader #b 127 x reader

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imaginespazzi · 6 months ago

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Part 6: Leaps of Faith

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 7

I hope that you catch me, cause I'm already falling (you put your arms around me and I'm home)

(In which a writer who can see the end approaching starts building towards that ending)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst and Fluff

Words: 8.0K

TW: Swearing, Alludes to Sexual Content

A/N: Good evening my lovelies <3. Happy Sunday and Happy Mothers day! First of all, I wanna thank y'all for being ever so patient with me. I know I've been pretty bad about updating lately and y'all have been so sweet with your asks and I really appreciate it. This fic is very close to its end. I probably could have ended it with this chapter but there's a very specific ending I want to write so this one is more of a self-indulgent filler but I think y'all will like this one. There will be one more chapter and then an epilogue of sorts. Once again, there are most likely logistical inaccuracies. I'm not even gonna lie, the editing on this one is shoddy so there are definitely grammar errors/typos. For now, ignore them and I'll go fix them later. As always, even if we're near the end, feel free let me know what you liked, what you didn't and anything you'd like to see before we get to the end. Have a wonderful week my angels <3

April 2024

“It’s a little early for ice cream hon,” Azzi jumps at the sound of her mother’s voice, startled eyes following the direction of the noise to find Katie leaning against the kitchen door, with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s a little early to scare the living bejesus out of me mom,” she says with a hand to her chest.

If possible, Katie’s eyes roll even further at her daughter’s sarcastic tone as she makes her way over to the kitchen counter. She’s gotten herself a spoon and everything, ready to steal some ice cream for herself, when she notices the flavour. Next to her, Azzi stiffens.

“You hate mint chocolate chip Az,” Katie says quietly.

“I couldn’t find the strawberry ice cream,” Azzi defends stubbornly, her face taking on a guarded expression.

Katie walks over to the freezer, opening it and pointing at the strawberry ice cream, Azzi’s favourite, that’s sitting in plain sight, “it’s right there.”

“Well,” Azzi splutters, “I’m trying something new,”.

“You hate trying new things.”

“I’ve grown up I guess.”

“Azzi.”

“Mom.”

“Azzi, why are you eating ice cream you hate at 4 in the morning?” Katie finally asks in her best mom voice, sighing when she gets a mumbled response from her daughter, “in words Az, please.”

“Paige likes it,” Azzi admits slowly, and before Katie can say anything, before Azzi can dwell on what she’s said, she launches into a rant, “god knows why. Actually I know why because she’s stupid and weird and likes the dumbest shit. Who the fuck likes mint? Who the fuck likes mint and chocolate together? Gross. This shit is disgusting. It tastes all wrong. Paige is just-,” Azzi throws her hands up in the air, “she just doesn’t understand that some things don’t belong together. They can’t. They’re too different and it just- there’s a fucking balance to things you know? And she just- she doesn’t get that. It’s just- it’s not meant to be.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re eating it right now,” Katie says carefully.

“Because I miss her,” the truth bursts out of Azzi like an erupting volcano, burning itself into every crevice of her skin, “because for some fucking reason I don’t hate the taste of mint chocolate chip. Because maybe they do go together and maybe I’ve been the stupid one this whole time.”

Since she’d stepped out of the hotel in Cleveland, all Azzi could think about was going back, saying fuck it to all the useless logic she’d come up with and going back to the only thing in her life that had ever made sense her Paige. But as it often did in that clichéd battle between head and heart, her head had won out. And she’s never questioned why her head wins so much, why she’s always chosen to listen to the practical side of her brain, until now. Until now when the urge to turn back time, to make herself stay in that hotel room, is all that’s consumed her for the last week.

“Azzi,” Katie wraps her arms around the younger girl, “what happened with you and Paige?”

Azzi hesitates for a second and then everything’s spilling out of her lips, the good, the bad, the inbetween, all of it tumbles out like an uncontrollable waterfall. There’s something freeing about being able to say it all out loud, something freeing about the tears Azzi finally lets roll down her cheeks. She grips the edge of the counter to keep herself from keeling over, starting to feel herself crumble under the heaviness of all these stupid feelings.

“It shouldn’t be this hard,” Azzi whispers, “we used to be so easy.”

“Oh Az,” Katie rubs a thumb against her daughter’s cheek, “you used to be kids. You’re all grown up now. It’s always harder when you’re older.”

“Well, I don’t like it. I just want to be the way we were again.”

“So why don’t you?” Katie asks like it’s the most simple solution in the world and Azzi shoots her mother an exasperated look.

“What do you mean? How do we even do that? We can’t be just friends again. We tried. Were you not listening at all?”

“Azzi, sweetheart, you’ve never been just friends.”

“That’s not true,” it’s a futile attempt at arguing against what’s become more of a fact than an opinion in Azzi’s life. It’s a truth she’d let herself acknowledge once and then buried deep within her, scared that once unleashed, it would ruin everything. Except, it turns out, even without it, things had still turned to dust.

“Do you remember when you came home from Minnesota that first summer with Paige? You were either moping around or you were on call with her. There was no in between. It got better eventually, the moping stopped but the calls? I think you fell asleep on facetime with her almost every night. And you were tired every morning after, you barely had time to eat before school but every time I suggested that maybe you cut back, that was never an option,” Katie smiles fondly, “it’s when I knew.”

Azzi does remember, remembers talking about everything and nothing, remembers laughing and crying, remembers when Paige’s breathing was the only lullaby that could relax her into sleeping. And she remembers battling with that voice in her head, the one convinced there’s something more, silencing it with I’d do this with anyone. But that wasn’t true then and it’s not true now because Paige has never been just anyone, never been just a friend. Because even if Azzi’s never been brave enough to say it out loud, Paige is and has always been everything.

Despite knowing the answer and maybe dreading it just a little bit, Azzi asks it to her mom anyway, “what did you know?”

“That she was your person. You were too young, I couldn’t call it love just yet but I knew Paige was different then, she was yours in a way none of your other friends were. You were different around her,” Katie nudges her daughter, “Azzi you’ve always been just a little bit in love with her and she’s always been just a little bit in love with you too. The two of you have just been a matter of time.”

Azzi closes her eyes, and unlike other people, she doesn’t see darkness or little spots of light, she just sees Paige. Her mother’s words wash over her, like acid in her self-inflicted fight the feelings wounds and yet, the idea of she’s loved me too feels like a band-aid being delicately placed on the scars of her heart.

“And place,” she whispers, eyes still closed, “we never seem to get time and place right.”

“Why do you need to?”

Another exasperated look is sent Katie’s way at that question, “we live on different sides of the country mom, what do you mean why do we need to?”

“I mean the two of you have barely ever been in the same place. But you made it work, when you had even less, when you felt even less. But you’re adults now. You have other resources now. And I know timing is difficult but- it’s you and Paige. What are you so scared of Azzi?”

Azzi sucks in a deep breath, “what if Paige runs away again?”

“What if you run away again?”

“Excuse me?”

“Who was the last person to walk away, Azzi?,” Katie sighs when Azzi is adamantly silent, “I know she hurt you by leaving. I know she hurt you by pushing you away. But you did the same thing. You chose UCLA,” Katie holds up a hand when a frustrated Azzi tries to interrupt, “and it was the right decision for you Azzi and she should have supported it. But that doesn’t meant you didn’t hurt her and then you chose Zoe-”

“I didn’t choose Zoe-”

“Yes you did Azzi. Sweetheart you’re my daughter and I will always tell you the complete truth even if it’s not what you wanna hear. And the truth Azzi is that Paige might have hurt you in 101 different ways but that doesn’t mean you didn’t hurt her back in 99 different ways too.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Azzi whispers, “that’s the problem mom. It hurts when she hurts me but it hurts even more when I hurt her. I don’t want that for us but I just- I just don’t know how to stop it without stopping us.”

“You haven’t even tried, baby. Paige held out a hand and you ran away.”

“She left first. How am I supposed to trust that she won’t just do that again," all that’s missing from Azzi’s stubborn whine is a foot stomp.

“Because she came back. It took her a little bit, I know, but she came back and she’s ready to fight, the question is, are you?”

“Why are you defending her?” Azzi splutters, “who’s side are you even on?”

“There are no sides to this sweetheart. The two of you are on the same side. So maybe instead of fighting against her, take that hand, fight with her.”

***

The WNBA draft is a momentous occasion this year. With a hyped draft class like no other, and the promise of even greater ones in the future, there’s a sense of celebratory hope dangling in the air. When the invite had first come in, Azzi had known the same one would be sent to a certain blonde in Connecticut as well. And a part of her had wanted to hide herself away from that possible collision, but every other part of her wanted nothing more than to get just a glimpse of the blonde.

One moment Azzi is surrounded by flashing cameras and the echo of her name on everyone’s lips, the next everything around her is fading away her eyes meet Paige’s on the other end of the WNBA draft orange carpet. It’s nothing new really. Since she’s met her, the blonde has commandeered all of Azzi’s attention whenever she’s nearby. Sometimes it feels like all of her other five senses fade away to give birth to a secret sixth one, one that’s solely dedicated to Paige, one that’s terrifyingly all-consuming. And yet, despite the heaviness of we’ve said too many goodbyes, for the first time in what feels like eternity, Azzi feels like she can finally breathe.

And then Paige looks away.

And Azzi’s back to struggling for air.

It’s selfish of her, she knows, to expect something, not when she’d been the one to leave them stranded on different islands. But Azzi doesn’t seem to think logically when it comes to Paige and even as she tries to turn her focus back to posing for the camera, every inch of her body is dangerously aware of the blonde’s every move, just a mere few feet away from her. Her conversation with her mother is echoing in her head, giving rise to dangerous desires of what if i grabbed your hand and we ran away together.

Paige is a natural on the orange carpet, all dazzling smiles and twinkling eyes. She glides through it, inching closer and closer to Azzi, but never giving away any sense of discomfort. And if it was anybody else, maybe they’d never catch onto the nerves hidden beneath Paige’s facade of calm, cool and collected. But once upon a time Paige used to be Azzi’s favourite puzzle and she has every part of the blonde committed to memory. It’s in the way Paige’s teeth gnaw at her lips for the briefest of seconds, in the way her right index finger is begging to tap a beat against where her hands rests on hips, in the way she’s blinking just one too many times.

And then with one more heavy footed step from Paige, the distance between them is barely a couple inches and they let out identical breaths of air, both of them keeping their focus on the cameras in front of them. It’s loud, too loud, and still all Azzi can focus on is the sound of Paige breathing. The air around them is thick with tension. It feels a bit like they’re silhouetted against a sky made of words they’ve left unsaid and clouds of all the bitter mistakes they’ve made are hanging over their heads. And when their pinkies brush together, and a jolt of electricity sends shivers of I miss you more every day again her skin, Azzi questions if she’s ever made the right decision when it comes to Paige.

“Wait wait wait,” Ari cuts in, as she squeezes herself in between the two of them, “I wanna get in between the two of you.”

A harsh cry of no sits heavily on the top of Azzi’s tongue as the older woman forces a break in whatever little bit of contact she’d had with Paige. She feels a little pathetic, the way every little inch of her skin is craving for that touch back. It had been nothing, a barely there moment and still Azzi thinks, when she goes to bed tonight, if that was all she’d get of Paige, then it’ll be the only thing that’ll feature in her dreams.

“Alright one with just Paige and Azzi,” Ari directs the media, stepping out of the way and pushing the two younger girls together. And it’s laughable that a little brush of their pinkies had Azzi feeling any type of way because when they’re suddenly pressed together, every inch of Paige’s side fitting into Azzi’s like it belongs, the way the world suddenly bursts with light and colours makes Azzi wonder if every moment without Paige has simply been monochrome.

It comes to them naturally how to pose together, arms winding around each other’s waist, heads involuntarily leaning against the other’s. And the smiles might be for the cameras but Azzi knows hers is the most real it’s been all night. It might be temporary, she might lose Paige in the chaos, but for now Paige is here and Azzi has learned how to be content with whatever little she can get.

As the media moves to capture other people, the logical thing to do would be to separate, to let go of each other. But instead they stand there, still completely wrapped around each other, heart rates in sync as they breathe in each other’s presence. And then Paige’s hand falls from the small of Azzi’s back to tangle their fingers together and they let out identical sighs of relief, something so cathartic in the purposefulness of that touch. Everyone is too busy to notice that the two of them have fallen into a whole other world, one where there’s only two of them and every emotion that they’ve only reserved for the other. There’s no words exchanged as Paige guides the two of them out of the spotlight, somehow keeping their hands clasped together in secret, despite the ever growing crowd. And Azzi doesn’t know this building at all, doesn’t have the faintest clue where she’s being led to, but as long as it’s Paige pulling her along, she doesn’t care where, she thinks she’d go anywhere.

Paige stops abruptly in a secluded corridor, turning to fully face Azzi. And the sincerity in the blonde’s crystalline blue eyes, as they roam every inch of Azzi’s body before coming to fixate on her face, steals the air away from Azzi’s lungs. Paige has gotten better over the years at building walls, but with every new lock she places on her emotions, there’s a key to open them that seems to always find its way to Azzi. In the delicate golden hue, Paige shines brighter than any star ever could and in the dim light Azzi can make out every bit of hurt and love and please can we just have this moment that Paige can’t put into words.

“Hi,” Azzi whispers softly, hands itching to reach out and caress Paige’s skin.

“Hi,” Paige says back, even quieter. She stares at Azzi as if she’s memorising every little detail and then her face crumbles. Azzi feels her heart drop at the single tear that trickles down Paige’s cheek as she lets out a broken whimper. And this, this unspoken power they seem to have over each other, the uncanny ability to just hurt each other without any bit of effort, is what scares Azzi the most. It’s too much. They shouldn’t be able to do this.

“Paige,” Azzi’s fingers twitch but she hesitates, not knowing if it’s the right thing, “fuck- P what’s wrong?”

Paige doesn’t reply, eyes wandering down to where Azzi’s trying to keep her hands still against her sides and when she looks back up, her eyes are bloodshot, “what’s wrong? What’s not wrong Azzi? You won’t even fucking touch me.”

“I didn’t-” Azzi struggles to speak, “I didn’t think you’d want me to.”

“Can you just- fuck- can you just stop overthinking things for once in your life. Of course I want you to touch- you know what nevermind. This was a bad idea. You made yourself clear and I’m just- fuck- I should- I should just go.”

She sounds adamant enough but all it takes, when Paige moves to leave, is the strangled cry that leaves Azzi’s lips. The sound is enough to pull Paige right back in. She takes one look at the tears brimming in Azzi’s eyes. And then she’s pushing Azzi against a wall, hands on either side caging the younger girl between her body and the hard surface behind. She presses their foreheads together and Azzi feels like every part of her might just be a part of Paige too.

“I miss you. I miss you so fucking much. It’s barely been two weeks and I- fuck- Azzi- I’ve missed you every single second and now you’re here and I still miss you. And it really fucking hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” Azzi whispers, finally letting her hands cup Paige’s cheeks, and it’s worth it for the way Paige seems to completely melt into her touch, “I’m sorry I keep hurting you. I keep thinking I’m doing the right thing but- I don’t know- I feel like I’m always doing the wrong thing when it comes to you. I don’t- I don’t know what to do.”

“Just let me be with you,” Paige’s voice is wrecked with desperation as she presses herself as close to Azzi as possible, “I’ll be your whatever- whatever you give me- whatever you want- I just- I just want you Az- whatever little bit you’re willing to give me- I’ll take it- and if you want me to wait- fuck Azzi- I’d wait forever- you know that right? However long it takes, baby. Just want you- just want us.”

Leaps of faith are scary. Azzi’s never been great at taking them, too cautious, too much of a worrier. She’s more of a step back from the cliff kind of person. If she doesn’t jump, she can’t fall. But here’s the thing, when she was fourteen, Azzi jumped off of her first hypothetical cliff. It had been on a plane, when after avoiding one too many deep questions, Azzi had admitted to a girl she barely knew,that maybe she could like girls. It was the first time she’d ever let herself acknowledge that truth about herself and the girl next to her was a stranger but there was something about her, something that screamed i’ll hold your hand and if you jump it’ll never be alone. And ever since then, that girl, Paige, has always been there. Hands outstretched, ready to jump off any ledge. Because if there’s hard ground underneath, then they’ll learn how to fly together and if there’s water, they’ll figure out how to swim. With Paige there has always been the promise that, whatever it is, they’ll figure it out together. And it’s with that promise in mind, that Azzi takes the leap of faith.

“Me too,” Azzi whispers, heart beating erratically.

“What?” Paige searches Azzi’s face, as if waiting for her to take it back.

“Us. You. You and me. I want that too,” a ghost of a smile begins to creep onto Azzi’s face, and for the first time in god knows how long, she feels feather light, a little bit like she’s floating on a rainbow.

“You mean it?” Paige asks earnestly, hands moving from the wall to clutch at Azzi’s waist, “don’t play-Azzi- okay- you mean it for real?”

“I do. I want this- I want this so much and I’m still- I’m still really scared and maybe it’ll be a disaster but I- I want to try. With you.”

Azzi used to think she knew all of Paige’s smiles. Her small, not quite fake, but only for cameras and people she didn’t quite know, smiles. Her just for my friends smile that was filled with mirth and childlike joy. Her basketball smile that transformed into a smirk when she got too cocky. Her only for Drew smile, soft and filled with so much adoration and pride. Her Azzi smile, the one only the brown-skinned girl gets to experience, a smile that made Azzi’s her heart swell with love. But the smile that stretches across Paige’s face now, is one Azzi’s never seen before. This one throws Azzi’s entire world of balance, so bright, so big, so full of emotions. If she could, she’d tattoo that smile onto her skin forever.

“We’re really doing this?” Paige asks, still a little stunned. It wasn’t what Azzi had planned for tonight. She hadn’t really had any plans for what would really happen. But then Paige had walked in and all Azzi could see was forever she was tired of fighting against.

“We should take it slow okay-” Azzi wraps her arms around the older girl’s neck, keeping their foreheads still against each other’s, “I don’t- I don’t wanna rush into things and fuck it up. I can’t- fuck- I can’t lose y-”

“You won’t,” Paige swears, squeezing at Azzi’s wait, “I won’t let you. We can take it slow. We can take it however you want- I just- we’re doing this?”

“Yeah,” Azzi can’t help the grin that fills up her entire face, “yeah we’re doing this.”

And as they surge forward to claim each other’s lips, and as they meld every inch of themselves into each other, and as they smile and cry into the kiss simultaneously, and as they etch promises into each other skin, and as they let themselves finally fall into each other, for each other, it feels a lot like coming home.

***

July 2024

The early morning sunlight casts a dark shadow across Paige’s face, causing the still asleep blonde to scrunch up her face in irritation. Azzi, who’s been awake for nearly half an hour now, can’t help the fond smile that creeps onto her own lips. She shifts herself to block the sun and Paige lets out a content sigh, burrowing herself further into her pillows. And the thing is every moment with Paige is special but there’s something about waking up to her in the morning. Azzi’s always awake first and it gives her ample time to just admire the girl in her arms, blond hair tousled all over her pillow, lips parted slightly open, and one arm always, always, splayed across Azzi’s torso, holding her close. Over the course of time, Azzi’s found out that the second she moves, Paige seems to feel her leave, waking up instantly.

There had been an adjustment period if Azzi's honest. It had taken her a while to shake that fear of Paige not being there in the morning. The first morning, she’d been scared to open her eyes, even if she could feel Paige’s presence right next to her. That had been one of the few mornings that Paige was fully awake first, hovering above Azzi to wake her up. And when she finally did get the courage to open her eyes, the first thing Azzi had seen was Paige, blue eyes sparkling with unfiltered adoration, a smile filled with promises of every morning just like this. And that had been enough.

Azzi reaches out to brush a hand through Paige’s soft blond hair, mesmerised by how pretty Paige looks in the morning glow. A lot of Paige belongs to the world now and Azzi’s not opposed to sharing really, because someone so fucking perfect, deserves to be celebrated like that. But there are some parts of Paige that belong to Azzi and Azzi only, some parts Azzi cherishes as being only hers. This is one of them and Azzi takes a snapshot of it, knowing she’ll need it to function in a few months, when she won’t get the real thing.

“Are you watching Paige sleep?” Azzi almost jumps at the sound of Drew’s voice at the doorway, having been too immersed in Paige to have even heard the door open, “that’s kinda creepy Azzi.”

“Jesus Drew, whatever happened to knocking?”

“I forgot?” Drew grins, before he plops on the bed, the force of it making the whole frame shake a little bit.

“Drew!” Azzi chides, “you’re gonna wake her up.”

Drew cocks his eyebrows, sparing his sister, who seems unphased by the sudden little bit of chaos around her, still fast asleep, an unimpressive look, “please she can sleep through anything. Besides, it’s already 9. I thought we were gonna do things. I been up for aaaages.”

“She’ll be awake soon,” Azzi smiles, ruffling the younger boy's hair. Drew rolls his eyes and it’s remarkable how much he resembles Paige, not just by face, but the mannerisms too.

He huffs for a second before his eyes sparkle with an idea, “what if we pour water on her!”

“Drew!” Azzi chastises again, trying not to giggle.

“Boo,” Drew crosses his arms across his chest, “you used to be so cool Azzi.”

Azzi laughs as she’s reminded of a younger version of herself, scheming with Drew on how to wake Paige up. And it’s not that she’s beyond that really, tucking the water idea for a rainy day, but Paige looks too peaceful this morning and she wants to preserve that look of serenity on the older girl’s face for just a little bit longer.

“Hey Azzi,” Drew says after a while and Azzi hums in response, “when you and Paige get married, I can still be a groomsman right? Even if there’s no grooms?”

“Wha- where did that come from?” the brunette’s eyes widened at the question, sitting up a little straighter.

Drew peers up at her with all the innocence of a pre-teen, “you are gonna get married right?”

“I don’t-”

“It’s too early for your yapping Drew,” Azzi’s saved from answering by Paige’s tired voice entering the conversation. She looks over to find Paige’s eyes already on her, a soft smile playing on her lips as she looks up at Azzi. If Drew wasn’t sitting right there, Azzi would lean over and kiss her and let Paige deepen it until they were both satisfied.

“Oh thank god,” Drew cheers dramatically, “I thought you were gonna sleep forever.”

Paige scoffs, the arm that’s still wrapped around Azzi’s torso tightening its hold, “I wish.”

“Well you’re awake now so get up,” Drew whines, moving from his spot on the end of the bed, to flop on top of Paige’s body instead, “get up, get up, GET UP.”

“Get off,” Paige groans but there’s no real force behind it. Azzi watches with a fond smile, as Paige flips Drew over so that she can tickle him, eliciting rounds of laughter from the younger boy. Something in her heart flutters, her mind going back to Drew’s question. She’s never really been one to think too hard about marriage and children and that domestic suburban life, leaving it up to fate, but now- well, maybe.

“Okay aight aight enough. Go get ready for breakfast and we’ll be down in a second,” Paige says, ushering Drew off of the bed.

“You can just tell me you want me to leave so you can kiss Azzi you know?” Drew scrunches up his nose, “you two are gross.”

Paige sends him a stern look and gets a dramatic eye roll in return but as he always does, Drew does as he’s told, mock saluting the two of them and skipping out of the room.

“He’s right by the way,” Paige says softly, turning back to where Azzi’s leaning against the backboard, “I do want to kiss you.”

Azzi smirks lopsidedly, “what’s stopping you?”

She squeals in surprise when Paige pulls her, the force of it causing both of them to tumble onto the front-end of the bed. Azzi ends up on top of Paige, hands resting around her neck, the blonde’s hands holding her waist in place.

“Good morning,” Paige grins, clearly proud of herself as she chases Azzi’s lips to pull her into a searing kiss.

“Good morning,” Azzi whispers back, thumb caressing Paige’s left cheek.

“Just so you know,” Paige pulls away, a determined glint in her eyes, “we’re so getting married one day.”

***

October 2024

Azzi’s mood has been rancid for the last couple of weeks. It’s terrible she knows; it makes her irritating to play with and a nightmare to live with. But even if this had been expected, that she would be on one end of the country and her heart would be on the other side, it doesn’t stop her from constantly being in a state of missing Paige. And it’s different from before, now that there’s a certain surety of of course i’ll see you soon but soon never really feels soon enough.

“Azzi can you please get the door,” Kiki calls from her room when the doorbell rings.

“I’m busy,” Azzi grunts back, snuggling further into her pillow with a book she isn’t actually reading, “you go get it.”

“Azzi please, I’m literally in the middle of getting dressed,” Kiki yells exasperatedly.

If it wasn’t for the fact that she’s pretty sure her teammates are about this close to plotting her murder, and deservedly so, Azzi would sink back onto her bed and let the incessant doorbell noise continue. But she does love her teammates, thinks Kiki probably deserves to change in peace, and it forces her out of bed, grumbling away about annoying visitors. Until she actually gets a look at the visitor. Paige stands on the doorstep, confident as ever, a bouquet of roses and peonies and lilies in her hand.

“You’re here,” Azzi breathes out, staring in awe.

“And thank fucking god she is,” Kiki quips from behind her, “maybe we can finally get our old happy Azzi back and not this bitch.”

Paige laughs, “watch how you talk about my girl Rice.”

“You’re here. You’re really here,” Azzi whispers again.

“I heard you missed me baby,” Paige says, her cocky smirk betrayed by the softness in her voice. And then Azzi is flying into her arms, throwing Paige off balance.

“So fucking much,” Azzi admits into Paige’s neck, eliciting a giggle from the blonde, “Kiki’s right. I have been a bitch.”

“Just a little bit,” Kiki calls out again but there’s a new fondness in her voice. It’s funny how her team, even the haters, have slowly become Paige fans. They’d been hesitant at first, just like the UConn girls, but now well, it seems the basketball world’s Montagues and Capulets have learned to accept their star players’ relationship.

“Missed you too Az,” Paige’s tone is vulnerable as they break away, “alright, go get changed, I wanna take you somewhere.”

“Or…,” Azzi presses her lips to Paige’s neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses, “we could stay here and do something else.”

Paige shivers under her touch, stepping away to keep some semblance of control “n-no I have plans,” but she can’t help but kiss Azzi’s pout away, “it’ll be worth it, I promise. Besides,” she bites at Azzi’s ear, “there’s always later.”

***

“Your big plans are to bring me to the supermarket,” Azzi cocks an eyebrow as they walk down one of the many aisles, “you turned down sex for this? Should I be offended?”

Paige doesn’t say anything, concentratedly looking at signs, trying to figure out a specific section, before an aha! moment dances over her face, and she pulls Azzi with her, the younger girl going willingly, despite the eye roll. She stops triumphantly in front of the sushi section and Azzi looks at her quizzically.

“I’m getting you supermarket sushi,” Paige says pointedly, “and then you can get me mac and cheese.”

And if you brought me sushi I’d have brought you your favourite mac and cheese. Oh. The realisation of what Paige is doing trickles around Azzi a little bit like rain after a long summer drought. She thinks back to the bouquet, everything suddenly making sense.

“You’re such a dork Paige Bueckers,” Azzi says softly, tapping the older girl’s nose.

“Your dork,” Paige grins cheesily, “now hurry up and pick one. I don’t wanna miss the sunset.”

***

Once she catches on it, it doesn’t surprise Azzi to find that Paige has everything planned out perfectly, down to the exact spot in the park- the one by Paige’s recovery airBnB, the one they’d taken countless walks in trying to repair their friendship- where the two of them can be away from everybody else, in their own little bubble. And she has a picnic blanket, that’s a little small but they don’t really want space from each other anyways. They lean against a tree, food set up in front of them, Paige’s laptop, carefully piled on top of a couple of books to be the perfect height, set a little bit further away.

“So what NBA game are we watching?” Azzi asks with a smile and Paige groans, “what? Was that not part of the plan?”

“Dude come on. It’s the beginning of October. Please tell me you know the NBA season isn’t happening yet,” Paige rubs her temple, only a little endeared by the comment, “are you sure you’re a basketball player?”

“There are games in October. I swear I’ve seen them before,” Azzi says sceptically.

“Yeah at the very end of the month, not right now.”

“Well then close enough,” Azzi says indignantly, “I don’t need to know the exact day.”

“Whatever you say baby,” Paige acquiesces with a smirk and it earns her an elbow to the stomach, “what the fuck? That shit’s domestic violence you know?”

“Big words Bueckers, didn’t think you knew them,” Azzi teases, placing a kiss against Paige’s offended expression, before settling herself against the blonde’s side, sighing contentedly when she gets a kiss on her temple in return. They’re cliché enough to put on Love and Basketball, but Azzi doesn’t really end up watching much at all. In between slow kisses, she almost falls asleep a couple of times, the comfort of Paige’s arms like a blanket wrapping her in the warmth of this is my fairytale.

“THE POLAROID,” Paige’s shout breaks Azzi out of her haze as she feels her body being shaken off, the blonde rummaging through her bag for the camera, “we have to take the polaroid. My wall needs it.”

“Oh yeah a tiny polaroid picture of us inbetween all your Lebron posters, a perfect fit,” Azzi drawls only to be met with a scathing look from Paige.

“It’s for important things and Lebron is the most important of them all,” Paige explains with complete seriousness, as she finally finds the polaroid camera and shimmies back to Azzi with it in hand.

The sunset is beautiful. Pink, purple, orange and blue, all blending together to create the perfect picture. But Azzi thinks it’s not nearly as beautiful as the girl in front of her, not nearly as beautiful as the date Paige had planned, not nearly as beautiful as the future she can so clearly see now. Her mind drifts back to the night of the phone call, and she can almost hear Paige’s sobs again, can still hear her own voice breaking. Back then, they had seemed impossible, a butterfly like dream that danced out of their grasp.

“Hey,” Paige captures her chin with two fingers, “where’d you go?”

Azzi shakes her head, “nowhere. I’m right here. With you. Where I should be.”

“Sappy goof,” Paige snorts but she kisses Azzi like she’ll take those words and hide them in the labyrinth of her mind, protect them there forever.

Taking the picture is a task, both of them bickering about angles and lights. It’s unnecessary arguing, in true Paige and Azzi fashion really but there’s something so mundanely domestic about it that Azzi finds herself wanting to memorise this moment too. They finally get the frame just right, somewhere in between what they both wanted. Azzi smiles at the camera, her Paige smile, as the blonde in question presses her lips against her cheeks.

Click.

And Azzi hopes, that however many years later, when they have a home of their own, amidst all the photos that they’ll take over the next years, this one will be hung somewhere on their wall, a testament to finally realising every dream they’d dared to dream together.

***

December 2024

There are pebbles being thrown at her window and Azzi has to stop herself from laughing when she peers down to see Paige, freezing cold in the Virginia December air, staring up at her with a goofy smile. She shakes her head when her phone rings, knowing it’s Paige and answers it with her own foolish grin.

“What exactly are you doing?” Azzi asks, “come back to bed.”

“You said I was unromantic. I’m trying to be romantic,” Paige’s teeth chatter in the cold, as she balances her phone in one hand, still throwing rocks with the other.

“I didn’t say that and throwing rocks at my window is supposed to be romantic? You’re going to wake the whole house up.”

“That’s what they do in all the good rom coms. And you said and I quote ‘we’re kind of boring’. You might be boring Azzi Fudd but I most definitely am not.”

It had been a throwaway comment Azzi had made at dinner with some friends from high school. One of her friends had been going on and on about some adventurous trip that she and her boyfriend were going on, and then asked Paige and Azzi if they had any of that planned. To which Azzi had replied that they were a little too busy, considering they were college basketball players still in season, and besides they were “kind of boring” people. She hadn’t meant it in any type of way. Personally, Azzi likes boring. Paige however, seemed to have taken the comment to heart and Azzi had woken up at 2 a.m. to an empty bed and the sound of something being thrown at her window.

“Okay I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You're really interesting baby and the most romantic person in the world. Now will you please come back to bed,” Azzi concedes, already missing the feeling of being cuddled up in her blankets with Paige’s body heat keeping her nice and toasty.

“No,” Paige says indignantly, “come down here.”

“Paige, it's freezing. It’s gonna start snowing any minute.”

“Exactly. That’s exciting.”

“Sleep is exciting,” Azzi whines, but she’s already padding around her room looking for a warm sweater, grumbling under her breath about the warm California sun she’s missing. She tiptoes down the staircase, wincing at the one step that creaks just a little too much, before pushing herself out the door. And it’s freezing cold, there’s sleep in her eyes, but it’s all worth it Azzi thinks, it’ll always be worth it, just to experience Paige’s smile.

“Knew you’d come,” Paige grins cockily, mittened hands pulling Azzi into her.

“Yeah yeah. What are we even doing?”

“Azzi Fudd,” Paige bellows dramatically, “may I have this dance.”

Azzi stares at Paige’s outstretched hand wondering if this is some sort of cry for help, but one look at Paige’s face tells her that the girl in front of her is being absolutely serious.

“This is your idea of exciting? Dancing in the street while it’s freezing with no music?” Azzi raises an eyebrow, but she takes Paige’s hand.

“It’s spontaneous,” Paige says the last word with a flourish, as she spins Azzi, “why not dance in the street when it’s freezing with no music?”

And well, that’s a fair point. If anyone were to look out their window that night, they’d probably think the two girls were somewhat crazy. Laughing and giggling and tripping over each other as Paige hums a melody and Azzi occasionally joins in. It’s ridiculous and corny and cliché and perfect. And then the first little bit of snow falls, white drops circling around the two dancing girls, snowflakes catching on their eyelashes. The dim glow of the streetlight is enough to catch identical smiles on the two girl’s faces as they revel in each other.

“You know some people say if you make a wish during the first snowfall, it’ll come true,” Paige whispers, still waltzing the two of them around, cheek pressed to Azzi’s, “you wanna try?”

And the thing is Azzi doesn’t really believe in all of that, in magic but something about Paige, something about this moment feels magical. It makes a believer out of Azzi.

“Yeah,” Azzi smiles, “let’s make a wish.”

They stand still, holding hands, eyes closed, both a little breathless, as they make their wishes. And when they open them, if it feels a little bit like maybe their wishes have already been granted, well they’ll share it in a secret smile but never out loud. After all, wishes don’t come true if you speak of them.

***

April 2025

7 seconds to go in the National Championship and Azzi’s UCLA Bruins are down by two points. It’s her last chance, having already declared for the 2025 WNBA draft, to win a national championship, to bring home their first basketball national championship since the 1978 team that had won the AIAW championship, to win their first NCAA championship ever. It had taken some sheer luck to get to this point if Azzi’s honest. As a two-seed in the Spokane region, they’d benefitted from their one-seed having been eliminated early and then getting to face a Cinderella six-seed in the final four. On the other side of the bracket, UConn, the favourites coming for a repeat, had been stunned by another team, the team that UCLA was now facing. That had caused a bit of a second-hand sting and Azzi’s not really trying to take revenge for Paige, but it'd be a lie to say the get back at them for me babe from earlier this morning isn’t ringing in her head.

The play is simple, set screens for Azzi, get her open, get her the ball. A two would get them to a tie and three would win it outright. Either will do. It’s a little too reminiscent of last year when Azzi had failed at tying the final 4 game and she can still feel that loss on the tips of her fingers. They break out from their last timeout, breathlessly running to their spots on the floor. The whistle blows, Kiki inbounds the ball and everything is a blur. All Azzi knows is the shot clock is winding down. She runs off of what feels like a million screens. And then she’s open on the wing, for a millisecond. A perfect pass from Kiki makes sure the ball lands straight in Azzi’s hand. And she doesn’t think, doesn’t breathe, doesn’t even notice the defender put up a hand, she shoots the ball. There’s two people on the court that know for sure that ball is going in the minute it leaves Azzi’s fingers, the shooter herself and her biggest fan in the stands, who’s been just a little bit in love with that shooting stroke, since before anything else had even begun.

With a delicate swish, the ball falls through the net, the buzzer sounds around the arena, the crowd explodes in blue and gold, as the UCLA Bruins win the 2025 national championship.

Everything stills in Azzi’s brain for a second, her thoughts taking a second to catch up to reality. She’s never really been one to emotion on the court, keeping herself steely guarded through most games, even at the very end. But now, triumph and pride and just utter happiness at finally achieving one of her biggest dreams, comes roaring to the surface, manifesting itself throughout her entire body, as she lets out a scream of joy. Her teammates engulf her and she gets lost in a sea of hugs and tears and bright, decadent smiles.

As thing start to calm down, there’s really only one thing on Azzi’s mind and Paige’s words echo in her ears, because if I’m gonna end up fucking crying, then I want it to be on your shoulder. And if I’m gonna end up celebrating, I want it to be in your arms. And Azzi thinks maybe Paige had discovered one of the biggest truths of their life with that, the truth that at the end of day, in any moment, big or small, happy or sad, the one person Azzi wants next to her, is her Paige. It’s been that way since she was fourteen, and too young to really understand the meaning of wanting someone forever, and she thinks if she has her way, it’ll be like that for the rest of her life, the rest of their life.

Paige is beaming in the crowd, standing next to Jon and José, a #35 jersey proudly adorning her torso. She waves when she catches Azzi’s eyes, always her biggest cheerleader. And Azzi throws caution to the wind, fuck it, not caring that there’s still a large crowd or that cameras are likely to follow her every move. She pushes her way into the stands, stopping right in front of the blonde.

“On a scale of one to ten, how bad would kissing you right now be?” Azzi asks, still a little breathless.

A myriad of emotions flicker through Paige’s face before settling on a mischievous smirk, “probably pretty bad but you should do it anyways.”

Azzi grins before merging their lips together and everything else fades to the background, until she’s consumed by nothing but Paige. They break apart far quicker than either of them would like and Azzi expects to feel just a little bit of fear at what she’s just done, likely given the media a spectacle they could run a million and one stories about but instead, with her forehead still pressed against Paige’s, she feels nothing but calm.

“I’m so in love with you,” Azzi whispers and Paige’s eyes widen. They’ve known it for a while now but it’s the first time either of them have said it.

“Say it again,” Paige demands.

“I’m so in love with you,” Azzi says again, grinning so hard, she thinks it might become her permanent expression, “like really fucking in love with you.”

“I’m so in love with you,” Paige whispers, pulling Azzi into a bone-crushing hug.

And this might not be the moment where everything finally comes together. There’s still so much life left to live, so much that they still need to work through, so much they’ve yet to deal with. But for now, Azzi has a national championship and she has the love of her life, the rest will work itself out, or so she hopes.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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turtletaubwrites · 9 months ago

Text

A Good Catch ~ Part 4 ~ End

Shanks got the vote for my 600 Followers Celebration, and now I am wrecked. I love this fictional man so much. Please enjoy the conclusion to this lil story. 🎣💖 Thank you for all of the love and support, y'all are amazing!! 🥰

Pairings: Shanks x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4275

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Ao3 Link

Summary: Your impromptu vacation is coming to an end, and you try to enjoy it as much as you can. You want Shanks to know how much it's all meant to you.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Swearing, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Teasing, Flirting, Alcohol, Penis in Vagina Sex, Unprotected Sex, (Be safe out there), Vaginal Fingering, Choking, Birth Control, Pet Names, Outdoor Sex, Porn with Feelings, Aftercare, Angst with a Happy Ending

A/N: I apologize for all the angst, but don't worry, it'll all be okay! I hope you enjoy this final chapter! This story was a pleasure to write. 🙏🏼

More dreams of the high seas rocked your sleep. The monstrous waves halted their deadly crash upon you as warm lips kissed along your jaw.

“Just a nightmare, damsel. I’m right here. I’ll save you.”

A choked sob left your throat as hot tears burned in your eyes before they’d even opened.

“Whoa, hey. You’re okay, sweetheart.”

Blinking through the tears, Shanks’ gorgeous face, lined with concern, filled your world.

“Need me to fight your dreams, Y/N? Never done that before, but I’ll find a way.”

He puffed up his chest before he kissed away your tears away, and your laugh lit his face up.

“There’s my fiery girl.”

Melting into a salty kiss, you let your bodies find each other again.

“Come here,” he rasped, guiding you to curl against him, his warmth pressed against your back.

He left kisses along your hair as contentment hummed softly through you.

Not enough.

“Want me again so soon,” he teased as you moved your hips back. He let out a hiss, and then a pleased chuckle when you found what you were looking for, rubbing your ass against the hard length of him.

“So greedy,” he purred, tracing his fingers along your neck and chest, his breath hot against your hair.

“I am.” The breathy confession poured out of you, pulling you free of some of that tension. “I'm greedy. And demanding.”

You reached your hand behind you, stroking that veiny cock up against the meat of your ass until he moaned for you.

“Presumptuous of you to demand anything of an Emperor of the Sea.”

His fingers wrapped gently around your throat, the tightening in your core almost painful as you cried out his name.

“Mm, what does my greedy, demanding little damsel want me to do to her?”

His cock twitched in your hand, letting only whimpers leave your lips.

He lifted his head off the pillow behind you, pressing his cheek against the back of your head to get closer to your ear. It didn’t matter where he was, or if he was even touching you, that voice would always destroy you.

“If you’re gonna be so rude, you’d better use your words.”

“Please…”

“That’s more like it,” he rasped, giving your neck just a hint of pressure. “Please what, pretty girl?”

You could feel slick dripping down your thighs already, and had to bite your lip hard to focus.

“Please, Shanks. I need your cock, need to feel you.”

“Good girl,” he praised, replacing your hand with his as he started to push between your thighs. “Fuck, sweetheart… Already drenched, hm? Lift that leg for me now.”

Your leg wobbled as he teased along your folds, lining up until he pressed the swollen tip of him inside.

“Please, please, please, please–”

Shanks dug his fingers into your hip, his voice heavy with his own need.

“Say my name.”

“Shanks– Oh my– Fuck! Shanks…”

The feel of him shoving himself into you sent your eyes rolling back. The force of his thrusts as he used your hip to slam into you harder tore raw, desperate noises from your throat.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop,” he growled behind you, losing some of his force as he released your hip. But he brought his hand to your throat again, squeezing until you choked out his name.

“Mm, you like this, Y/N? I can feel your sweet pussy gripping me so tight. Like when I choke you, baby?”

“Mhm,” you moaned, so close. Then his fingers clenched so fucking tight, and you came on his cock as you fought to say his name.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he groaned, kissing your hair as he loosened his hold. “I need to see you baby, can you move for me?”

After he helped you ride out that orgasm, you followed him, still twitching, until he had you where he wanted.

He sat up against the headboard, his eyes pouring over you as you slid onto his thick cock. The pressure of it had you slumping onto his chest, and he stroked your skin before pushing you back to meet his eyes.

“Can you stay with me, sweetheart?”

Your mind blanked at his words, eyes fluttering closed as you felt him pulsing against the walls of your greedy cunt.

“Can you keep your eyes on mine, Y/N? I wanna watch you fall apart for me.”

Of course.

Digging your fingers into his shoulders, your body thrashed as Shanks found the leverage he needed to make you scream. You gave him his name for as long as you could until you lost all words.

“Play with your clit, love. Let me see you.”

Your mouth fell slack with need as you were ruined again.

Shanks’ dark eyes were a mirage, everything golden, everything you needed, and you lost yourself in the feeling of hope. The feeling that it was real.

The feeling that he wouldn’t disappear like mist to leave you alone in a barren world once again.

“Gods, I need you so bad. Let go for me sweetheart. Mm, feels– fuck. Come for me…”

Right now Shanks was real, and you sent his name like a prayer to the heavens as he filled you with pleasure, with meaning, with the heat of his body, with him.

Your body drank him in, and he gifted you with your own name as you milked his cock, dancing with ecstasy until you lost the strength to hold yourself up.

He held you then, that spicy scent like the last bitter glimpse of the mirage. The last moment to pretend you were saved.

“You know, Y/N,” he let out, his own voice still breathy and strained, “I’ve lived a lot of stories, but I’ve never met a soul like yours before.”

You hummed against him, shivering as his cock twitched within you. You didn’t want to let him go.

“You hungry, sweetheart?”

Breakfast on the beach with the hungover symphony of groans and snores made you smile, Shanks grinning at you as he shielded his eyes from the morning sun.

“You know, it’s not polite to make fun of those in pain,” he reprimanded before stuffing a heaping spoonful into his mouth.

“Oh, my deepest apologies. I didn’t realize that the consequences of your own actions were above reproach. The poor drunken fools.”

Shanks snorted, giving you a crooked smile after wiping his gorgeous face.

“Would you like to take a tour of the ship with me today?”

“Do I get to visit the gift shop afterward?”

This earned you a kiss, his eyes devouring you, eating you up after your breakfast bowls were taken away.

The first place he took you was the crows nest, and he truly looked like a pirate now, making his climb look effortless, even missing an arm. You had never seen your island from so high up before, or the expanse of ocean stretching out so far.

“It’s beautiful…”

“I know,” he hummed, kissing your temple as he held you to him. “I’ve been wanting to ask you, Y/N…”

“Hm?”

Shanks’ eyes held that playful edge they usually did, but something seemed a little sharper.

“Your grandma had a lot of stories about pirates. But you seemed so scared when we found you. What made you so afraid of us?”

“You remember there were good pirates and bad pirates in those stories, right,” you asked, sitting on the bench to meet his gaze as he joined you.

“I remember,” he agreed, tilting his head. “But you were truly afraid. Did you think all pirates were bad?”

“Shanks, should I trust every pirate I meet,” you laughed, leaning back against the railing. “Pirates are lawless criminals, right? Are you expecting me to believe that I should feel safe getting pulled onto most pirate ships on these seas? Should I feel safe amongst a ship full of strangers when I can't tell if they're the good ones or the bad ones?”

Shanks didn’t meet your laughter, his lips quirking as he looked down at his sandaled feet.

“No, you’re right,” he affirmed, his voice almost distant. “You were right to feel scared.”

“You made me feel safe,” you comforted, touching his knee to make him meet your eyes. “I’ve never felt safer than I do with you.”

His slow smile was everything to you, and he kissed your knuckles, the warmth of him lighting you up.

“I’ve gotta check on some things today. Come with me? I’ll show you our old girl, the Red Force.”

“Because you’re leaving tomorrow?”

Those words had remained unspoken, but you couldn’t keep them in anymore. His fingers tensed around yours, and you hated yourself for the hint of emotion you’d let into your voice.

“That’s right,” he almost whispered, trailing his thumb along your skin. “I need to make sure my ship is safe to go.”

I’m ruining it, I ruined it.

Grateful that he climbed down first, you took the time to school your face, and swallow the heat of pain in your throat.

Every moment that he stood you in front of some part of his beautiful ship, telling you about what he loved the most, you wished he would just keep his fingers on your skin.

More of the crew was on the ship today than you’d seen before, greeting you both as they reported to their captain.

Every now and then, as you passed by a little alcove, a hidden corner, Shanks would pull you aside.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”

“Say my name for me, sweetheart,”

“Kiss me, please. Kiss me now.”

Time meant nothing, as you let yourself be with him. Laugh with him, joke with him, enjoy each moment.

“And here’s–”

“Your fishing equipment,” you asked without needing to, the smell giving it away.

“Mhm, what do you think?”

Ooh, you had thoughts.

“How the fuck are you alive,” you questioned, holding a decaying pole aloft. “How can you survive on the seas like this? Do you even catch any fish? What the fuck is this net?”

Shanks laughed at your outrage, and you rounded on him with genuine horror.

“We get by,” he choked out, laughter still caught in his throat.

“I’m genuinely impressed,” you said flatly, crossing your arms at him. “For someone that grew up on the ocean, I assumed you knew something about fishing. It’s a miracle you haven’t starved to death already.”

“I think I’ve encountered a few miracles in my time,” he grinned, tugging you toward him.

“Stop doing that,” you breathed, pulling away before you panicked, grabbing his hand in both of yours.

“Are you o–”

“Sorry,” you rushed out, “I’m just pissed that a world renowned pirate ship has such a pathetic excuse for fishing equipment.”

Shanks paused, his eyes raking over you before he kissed your forehead, pulling you along.

“Come on, fisherwoman. Let’s get back to our vacation.”

An early dinner brought more clear eyed crew members to join you at the dingy table.

“Did your grandma leave you with any keepsakes,” Benn asked, his curiosity pulling you in, “Any strange weapons, or trinkets, or anything?”

“Um, no,” you answered, looking up as you tried to think of anything. “Just old fishing poles, and a bunch of stories I never believed.”

“A few more of those stories sounded real, you know,” he almost whispered, leaning back as Shanks leaned in.

“What do you mean?”

Benn gave a quick nod, standing to leave as Shanks let his voice tease over your ear, bringing shivers to your skin.

“It means we’re sure your grandma was a pirate. Or at least she knew one well enough to take all their stories.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Why,” he breathed against your cheek, leaving a press of lips that was barely a kiss.

“It doesn’t matter if a fisherwoman’s stories are true. It just matters that they make the time pass by faster, make the boredom of waiting less harsh. We just need something to make life bearable until we get to the next bite.”

Why do I keep doing this? I don’t want to waste my last day with him with my shitty mood. Fucking stop!

Shanks said nothing, as if he could read the ungrateful thoughts in your mind. He stood, snagging a blanket off a hammock as he led you to the sand. He led away from the camp, until the voices, and the light of the fire were gone, and he gestured for you to help him lay the blanket out.

He plopped onto his back with a low grunt, bringing a soft laugh to your lips.

“Are you gonna–”

He didn’t have to convince you. You tossed yourself back, a groan interrupting his words as you fell beside him.

Your hand found his, and the waning moon filled your life as you let its light take over.

“You really are incredible, Y/N.”

The silence of nonbelief filled your space, but you shook it away, giving him everything you could, everything you hoped he would understand.

“You saved me, Shanks.”

“Oh, so you finally admit it?”

You tore your hand from his to smack his chest, grumbling at how much his giggles made you need to kiss him.

“No, stupid! I mean…”

Words. How could you put everything into words? Everything he’d done, and the gratitude you wanted him to take with him?

“I had forgotten how to live, Shanks. Forgotten how to enjoy the life around me. You helped me remember. I’ll never forget it.”

Tears filled your throat, and there was nothing you could do to stop them. No force in this world could hold back the weight of emotion that you felt for this ridiculous pirate.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, curling yourself against him. “I’m just going to miss you.”

Shanks said nothing for a long moment. Just held you, held his cheek against your hair while you tried to calm your breathing.

“I live a dangerous life, Y/N,” he whispered, kissing your forehead.

“I know, Shanks, it’s okay. I knew you’d have to leave,” you breathed, slow tears dripping down to his chest as you pulled him even closer. “I just wanted you to know… I wanted you to know how much these past few days have meant to me.”

You followed as he sat up, brushing your tears away. He held your jaw, tilting your face to study you.

The way Shanks looked at you always felt like a gift, and tonight it felt like treasure. You rested your hands on his face, and sent gratitude to the moon for lighting up these magical nights.

“I feel the same, Y/N.”

You couldn’t tell which would feel worse, which would make it harder. The thought that it didn’t mean much to him, and that he'd be able to sail away from you, just the same as he would from any other island.

Or the thought that he would miss you, that you would both spend nights under full moons, remembering the touch of each other’s skin, remembering everything.

How could you let him go? How could you ever move on if you knew he was out there somewhere with your name etched in his mind?

His lips met yours, and this kiss felt like the end. It felt like the world was ending, and all you could do was hang on to each other, keep that connection until you would be flung apart.

This little world you had created together, this moonlit beach filled with laughter and lust. It was coming to an end, so you tore every moment of joy you could from it, like a band playing music as the ship sinks.

“Y/N…”

“Shanks.”

Clothes were left in a pile on the sand. His clothes. His loose clothes that you’d never feel on your skin again.

He kept bringing you back, out of the painful thoughts. He always knew how to save you.

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” he rasped, trailing his lips along your neck. “You have made me so happy.”

Every touch was precious, and your eyes never parted for long.

Shanks moaned your name as his fingers reached your thighs, your body’s need for him staining the blanket beneath you.

You nodded as his eyes grew dark, and those rough, perfect fingers pressed gentle circles around your clit before entering you. You fell back onto the blanket, and that heat, the pressure in your core was so close.

Just being with Shanks gave your body so much pleasure that it took no time at all before your back was arching, and you looked up at his glowing face while he brought you.

“So beautiful,” he breathed, tracing those wet fingers along your skin, marking you with that pleasure.

“Shanks, please–”

“I’m here. I’m right here, Y/N.”

Gentle kisses covered your neck and face until his lips found yours. He kissed you now as if you had all the time in the world. His lips and tongue took their time, exploring you, bringing soft, needy noises from you both.

Finally, he rolled that heat of him onto you, his cock sliding through your wet folds. He moved his hips, getting so close as he kept his eyes on you, his arm holding him up above you.

“Help me, sweetheart.”

His husky voice made your eyes roll back before you reached down to guide him to your entrance. He hissed when you wrapped your fingers around him, and wasted no time in stretching you, molding your body to his shape.

That red hair hung loose, falling around his face as he rocked into you. Your hands clung to him, let him be your anchor.

“Look at you,” he said with a breathy smile, “my fiery damsel. You are so good for me, so perfect for me.”

“You feel so good, Shanks, you fill me–”

“I’ll fill you up, beautiful. I need to feel you again.”

He nodded down at you, eyes going frantic as he snapped his hips up.

“I need you baby, need to feel you…”

He growled as your fingers found your clit, thrusting into you as hard as he could on the blanket covered sand.

“Look at me, just like that, so good for me.”

“Shanks, I’m coming…”

Strained, primal noises left your throats, tearing through the air.

You could feel the throbbing veins of his cock as thick ropes of come filled you, painting you, claiming you.

He managed to breathe first, and you knew he was showering you with sweet words, sweet praise. You weren’t in words yet, you were just in the heat of his body, your racing heartbeats mixing together, that delicious scent of him.

You could have stayed on that blanket forever, but soon you were laughing, helping each other don sandy clothes until you found the shower again. Washing and worshiping each other before sharing more stories as you lounged on those red sheets.

It was a perfect night, and though you fought against sleep to make it last, you woke to more warm kisses, and a mind filled with stormy seas.

“Good morning, damsel,” he teased with that crooked smile.

Shanks held your hand on deck as your shitty village came into view. In your other hand, you played with that little stone in your pocket.

Something to remember him by.

This gorgeous ship docked, and you watched the crew bring your tiny useless boat down. Your stinky gear was piled within, and you laughed to yourself at the sight of the single oar.

Keep it together.

“Goodbye,” you managed to say without your lip quivering, looking up at him before heading down.

“Wait, I…”

Your breath hitched, his hand tensing around yours.

“I’m walking you home.”

He led you along, and your mind felt foggy, not quite there. Nothing felt real, and you weren’t sure if it was helping you or not.

The crew called for you as you passed, waving and yelling their goodbyes. You caught Benn staring at Shanks, shaking his head. Yassop gave you a wink, and the sounds of everyone’s cheers followed you down the dock onto the dirt trail home.

“This is it,” you announced at the door to your rickety little house, the first words either of you had spoken since stepping off the ship.

The air was thick around you. His eyes were a little wide as he stared at you, and your jaw was clenching as you tried to keep your tears at bay.

Your mind went in a vicious circle of wanting to beg him to stay, and wanting to beg him to leave already because it hurt too much.

“I’m, uh,” he cleared his throat before touching your cheek. “I’m gonna miss you, Y/N.”

The answering words choked out of your throat, high and shaky, and his smiling face fell. Those pretty eyes looked pained, his brows pulling together as he reached for you.

As he kissed you.

Another perfect kiss. Until you pulled away.

“Goodbye, Shanks.”

You wanted to shove him away as he nodded, chewing on his lip for too long.

“Goodbye, damsel.”

His soft voice almost broke you as he turned away. You couldn’t watch.

The fishy stink of your house filled your nose as you fell inside, still holding in your sobs so he wouldn’t hear your heart breaking as he walked away. There was nothing but tears, and the rocking movement of your body as you held yourself, your still bare feet shaking as you sat on the old wooden floor.

You had never felt more alone. There was no one you could even tell the story to. The story would disappear, just like he did.

Remembering the stone in your pocket, you held it in your palm until the wracking sobs began.

I wish you were here, grandma.

Grandma.

Your body moved on its own. Out the squeaky back door. Running up the dirt trail, to the little hill above the house, until you fell onto the grass, clutching that little stone in your palm. You touched your forehead to the heavy stone with your grandma’s untrustworthy name carved upon it.

“I finally lived a story, grandma.”

It spilled out from you, as if you were sitting on that boat with her, waiting for a bite. You didn’t even have to lie. It was a good story.

“I’ll never forget him,” you whispered, breath finally even, with the pressure of tears still there. But maybe… Maybe you would be okay.

“Y/N!!”

What the fuck?

“Y/N!”

That voice. His voice. You didn’t want to torture yourself. It was just your mind trying to deal with the pain.

“Damsel! Don’t hide from me, please!”

“Shanks?”

You had to clear your throat to yell his name, but you were still frozen to the spot.

“Fuck, Y/N. Where are you?”

His voice moved closer as you climbed to your feet, your legs wobbly from sitting on the ground for so long.

Waving for him, your lips parted as you watched him run up the trail. His hair was damp with sweat, and his breathing was ragged as he stood before you.

“Wha–”

“We need a fisherwoman,” he practically shouted at you.

Not a sound left your lips as you tried to figure out if you were hallucinating or not.

The hallucination reached out to hold your hand, squeezing as he caught his breath.

“You saw our stuff, we’re terrible! We need someone to fix up our gear, and help us fish in all sorts of wild waters.”

Your brows creased as you tried to focus, a headache starting to form from all the whiplash and crying.

Shanks dipped his head toward you, bouncing on his knees slightly as he continued.

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna be a pirate. You can still travel with us until we find an island you like. Somewhere you can be happy.”

Your mind was still stuck, just trying to understand the words he was saying.

He touched your cheek gently, those pretty eyes searching yours.

“I don’t…” he started, his voice rough, like he couldn’t get it out.

“I don’t wanna leave here without you.”

The chains around you broke loose, a wave of relief, and joy, and excitement rolling over you. You lunged at him, falling into a laughter-filled kiss.

“Are you sure,” you questioned, mind still fragile, afraid to lose it all again.

“I’m sure, I promise,” he breathed between those sweet kisses.

Pulling back from him, you looked into that face that you’d never forget. The joyful surprise in those eyes, the slow, crooked curving of those lips. A truly happy smile. Your new favorite.

“You know,” you teased, poking his chest, “you sounded pretty distressed there. Almost like you were the one in need of some rescuing.”

Shanks’ smile turned mischievous as he caught your hand, starting to pull you away from your old life.

“Damsel, I’m gonna be your captain now,” he threatened, the purr in his voice sending shivers over your skin. “We’re gonna have to work on your manners.”

“Good luck with that,” you said with a laugh as you followed him to the trail.

“Wait,” you cried out, pulling your hand away.

“Why? Is everything okay,” he asked, worry filling his eyes again.

“I’ve just got one more thing I need to do.”

Kissing his cheek, you ran back toward the grass.

“Hey, grandma,” you whispered as you left that little stone on her grave, winking at Shanks as he beamed at you.

“You were right. It was a good catch.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Thank you for joining me on this ride! I made myself cry with this one, lol. I have now fallen in love with another fictional character. What do I do now 😭

#shanks x reader #red haired shanks #x reader #reader insert #fem!reader #one piece x reader #one piece fics #turtletaub fics #follower celebration #fic requests #mine #fluff #one piece fluff #shanks fluff #shanks fics #shanks smut #one piece smut #smut #use of y/n

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cupofmiko · 2 years ago

Text

LOVELY TO BE HERE (WITH YOU) - midoriya izuku x f!reader

with midoriya izuku, some things have always been easy. other things, however, have not.

genre: a strangers to lovers to exes to lovers au, pro hero au | angst, fluff

warnings: aged up characters (you and Izuku go through your 20s during this fic), a right person wrong time fic, hurt/comfort, happy ending, Izuku is taller than you, insecurity, talks of a boss/employee relationship (nothing happens during that time), making out, some smut (fem!recieving oral, mating press, slight dom!Izuku?? some dumbification… not actually sure I’m just putting it in the warning just in case, use of “pretty girl” and “good girl”), mentions of an outside natural disaster, arguments, you and Izuku gets a little Mean during the argument, Bakugou and Kirishima are your Helpful Friends and Good Bosses, some recreational alcohol consumption at a party

word count: 22k

a/n: vaguely inspired by that tiktok trend with the “ceilings” by lizzy mcalpine audio… if you know you know. this is so behind the trend lol it ended up so much longer than i thought it would be so a lot of this hasn’t been thoroughly read through i am sorry lol

You are twenty-two years old when you get the email - an offer letter that confirms your acceptance for an entry level office assistant position at Deku’s agency. And for someone like you who is in the final year of university and has been looking for a job to get a head start on your career, this is a very exciting opportunity.

Not only is it a foot in the door for the hero industry, a very popular and competitive industry for any young college student, but it is with Deku. The hero from UA, the one who has been destined for the top since he was a teenager.

According to the hiring manager, Deku is officially returning back to Japan after spending his first few years post-UA abroad in different countries. Different contract work with hero agencies worldwide. But now, with several years of experience under his belt, Deku has decided to return back home and start up his own agency.

It’s intended to start as a small agency, the hiring manager had explained to you, a small but multi-talented team who can take on different responsibilities. And you, young and enthusiastic, played up your retail experience and the tutoring jobs you took on during those earlier college years.

Clearly, you talked yourself up well because now you stand in front of Deku’s agency - a moderately sized building whose simplicity is reflected in the warm earth tones inside. Something in your gut tells you that this is the first page of a brand new chapter.

The beginning of your first day is slow and typical of any first day experience. You remeet the hiring manager who introduces you to your boss and your responsibilities, which will mainly involve managing the front desk and answering the phone and making appointments for Deku. It is a little overwhelming, but you mask that incoming anxiety with a determination to do well.

Your afternoon is spent filling out information for email accounts, taxes, and pay. The phone rings a few times, and your boss lets you know what to do based on the different phone calls. For a top hero agency, it’s surprisingly normal.

So normal, that you almost forget who you’re working for until he walks through the front door of the agency.

You look up and immediately feel your breath catch in your throat because holy fuck, it’s Deku walking towards you. It’s very strange to see the boy you’ve only watched through a laptop screen stand opposite of you. He’s much taller than you thought. His suit is more detailed, his hair more fluffy, his muscles more defined in person. It’s strange, seeing someone the same age as you hold so much power and confidence in a single stance. But his gaze is open, kind, and curious when he looks at you.

“Hi there!” he greets cheerfully, approaching your desk. “You must be the new office assistant! I heard you were starting today - welcome!! It’s nice to meet you!! Are you adjusting well?”

You blink, feeling like your brain is lagging behind to process the fact that pro hero Deku is even talking to you. Then, you realize that he has asked you a question. You close your mouth (one that you hadn’t even realized you opened) and try to string together a sentence. “O-oh, thank you! And I’m doing well… thank you, Deku.” You test out the hero name. It sounds so strange saying it out loud.

Deku laughs, a shy almost unexpected sound that makes something flutter in your chest. “I’m glad to hear that! And call me Midoriya. I’m glad to have you on the team!” His eyes flicker down, taking in the new lanyard you’ve received - it was part of your welcome package that is meant to hold your employee ID. “I can see you’ve already decorated your lanyard! I like your pin.”

Now you’re surprised for a multitude of reasons. Not only did he speak words to you, he’s actually continuing that conversation by noticing something you never expected a boss to notice. And he’s being sweet, warm, and welcoming.

You look down at your lanyard, bewildered as if you’ve never been a lanyard before, and see the pin you’ve haphazardly attached to the fabric. Glimmering on the metal is a character from your favorite movie - Howl from Howl’s Moving Castle. “Oh, t-thank you!” you manage, feeling warm, partly with embarrassment of having to explain a private interest, and partly because Deku actually looks genuinely curious in what you’re talking about. “He’s from this movie I really like. Howl’s Moving Castle?”

Deku ponders for a second. “Oh! Studio Ghibli right? I’ve never seen that one, but my friends introduced me to Spirited Away and I really enjoyed that one!”

“That’s a good one too,” you reply, losing enough nerves to actually feel your lips curve up into a small smile. Deku traces the movement quickly with his eyes. “That one and Howl’s Moving Castle are probably some of my favorites.”

He nods approvingly. “I’ll have to ask my friend to show that one to me someday.” He gets distracted momentarily by his phone, picking it up and frowning. “Ah, sorry, I have a meeting to get to,” he explains, putting the phone back down. “But it was really nice meeting you.”

Your smile grows a little, your head bowing a little to see him off. “It was nice meeting you too. Midoriya.”

He mirrors your smile, likely proud that you’re calling him Midoriya, before he walks towards the main office floor.

The phone rings before your gaze can linger for too long.

A full month goes by before you accept it. You have a crush on pro hero Deku.

To be fair, it’s hard not to have a crush on Midoriya. He’s just so open and sweet, thoughtful and considerate - a little shy, but reassuring enough to make you feel safe with just one smile.

Honestly? It’s a little infuriating. After all, Midoriya is… well, he’s pro hero Deku!! He’ll help old grandmothers cross the street and save a truck from falling off a bridge and then tackle a villain the size of a building all within the same day. He carries so much greatness, so much power, yet so many expectations on just one pair of shoulders. You see it on the news, in the meetings you have to schedule for him. Everyone wants a piece of him.

It’s harder now since he’s just starting up as a pro hero in Japan. There are things he must do, cases he must solve, and people he needs to save in order to climb that ladder and establish himself.

But still, despite himself, he stops by your desk every day. Either at the beginning of your shift or towards the end. He’s always had a busy day - you can tell as much because you help manage some of his appointments. Yet he never shows his exhaustion. He comes by, same bright smile, always asking about your day and chipping away at your apprehension.

It gets to the point where you’re comfortable enough finally sharing some interests with Deku rather than brush it off every time he tries to ask. You talk about the movies you like, the music you listen to, the dinner you cooked last night. Deku (Midoriya, you remind yourself time and time again) is always attentive.

So, again, how could you not have a crush on Midoriya?

And, to be fair, he doesn’t do much to quell that crush or fan the growing flames of affection you have for him. When he finds out that you really like that boba place thirty minutes away from the office, he starts bringing you a cup once a week. You try not to overthink the fact that he knows your exact boba order- down to the percentage of sugar you prefer. Or when he finds out you really like that Thai restaurant around the corner and starts bringing you your favorite when he knows you forgot to pack a lunch.

It’s sweet. Midoriya is sweet, dangerously so. Considering you often only see him drop off food and drinks for you, it makes you wonder if… perhaps, he feels the same way.

But a small, reasonable voice in your mind reminds you of a very important consideration: Deku was your boss. More than that, he was your boss’ boss. The big boss, if you will. There’s no way he could feel the same way, just from a moral standpoint. And even if you weren’t overthinking anything - a boss dating his employee? The scandals just write themselves.

It’s another two months before you learn to leave your feelings on the backburner and write it off as nothing more than a puppy dog crush. Lots of people probably have a crush on Midoriya, you think bitterly, it doesn’t make you special and it definitely doesn’t warrant a crush back.

Besides, you continue to think, Midoriya could have anyone he wanted in the country. In the world. There’s no way he’d settle with a measly secretary. He’s just doing these things because he’s a genuinely nice person - and it’s just convenient for him to make sure you’re eating proper meals and drinking proper (as proper as boba can be you suppose) drinks.

It is officially four months that you’ve been working for Deku’s agency when you stay late for the first time. You’ve started taking on more responsibilities that take the form of helping organize paperwork and writing up data analytical reports for Deku and his small group of sidekicks.

On the one hand, more work is great because it means your boss trusts you enough to handle important tasks. But on the other hand, it is stressful. Your perfectionist tendencies are not lost on you as you spend some extra time ensuring that a report is thoroughly. That means that by the time you are done, it is considerably later than your normal departure time.

Your boss and other colleagues must have left during your autopilot drive to get everything done because the office is mostly empty by the time your brain catches up to the outside world. The exceptions are the janitor taking out the trash and the night shift sidekicks who are either getting ready for a nighttime patrol or are currently sitting at their desks. They say their goodbyes as you pack up to leave for the night, coat on and everything, before you head towards the building entrance.

Only to find that it is pouring rain outside.

You stop short, taking in the rain pittering and pattering onto the sidewalk and the roar of rainfall filling your ears. Normally, you don’t mind rain. But the fall is too heavy to walk through unscathed - a fate that looks inevitable for you considering you forgot your umbrella.

You’re in the middle of wringing your hands together, debating whether or not you should just go for it, before you feel the agency doors open behind you. Then, a familiar voice calling your name.

It’s Midoriya, looking bewildered at the sight of you. “What are you still doing here?”

You blink back, equally as surprised. Last you had checked, Midoriya should have been long gone by now. “What are you doing here?” you quip back.

“Well, I, uh, had to approve some of the reports my sidekicks wrote up before sending them to the police,” he explains, scratching at his hair. “But late nights are normal for me. I’ve never seen you work late before.”

His inquisitive look leaves you warm with embarrassment. “I-I just wanted to make sure those data analytical reports were perfect before sending them for approval.”

Midoriya ponders you for a moment, but he ends up smiling. “I appreciate you working so hard. I hope you’re planning to go home. Or at least planning to eat something.”

You smile back sheepishly. “Guilty. I’m gonna go home- I have groceries that need to be cooked.”

“Can I walk you to the station?” he offers, flashing his All Might umbrella towards you.

You laugh. “Cute umbrella. And sure, that would be nice Midoriya.”

He watches you for a moment. “Do you have an umbrella?”

“Oh!” you laugh again nervously. “No, I forgot mine at home. But it’s okay.”

Midoriya looks momentarily troubled at your predicament, but he smiles easily enough. “It’s okay! Here. We’ll share mine.” He opens up the umbrella and holds it over both of you.

You still and immediately turn warm at the thought of sharing an umbrella with Midoriya. It seems too intimate of a situation to be in, all things considered. “O-Oh, don’t worry about me.”

“How could I not?” he retorts, surprising you by wrapping an arm around your shoulder to bring you close. Though hesitate, your arms encircle his midriff. For the umbrella, you tell yourself, as you gaze up at Midoriya. He’s staring back down at you, gaze unreadable.

A moment of doubt fills you. Was this too much? Self-conscious, you loosen your grip around him. But Midoriya tightens his hold, making you stop.

“You okay?” he asks, voice soft.

You manage to nod your head. Totally okay, more than okay. “Peachy,” you say, allowing him to lead you down the sidewalk towards the station. All the while, you do your best to ignore how romantic the gesture looks to people on the outside.

You reach the station within a ten minute walk, all while bunched up together like any other normal couple. Midoriya insists on making sure you’re underneath a solid roof before removing the umbrella. Untangling yourself from Midoriya feels like the real world has resettled itself on your shoulders.

So you take a breath, readjusting your backpack. “Thank you for walking me, boss.”

He grins sheepishly. “No worries. I just have to make sure my employee gets home safe.”

He’s trying to play along, but it feels a little like this cold wave of reality has just washed over you. You just try to manage with your best smile. “And some people have the nerve to say you’d be a terrifying boss.”

Midoriya laughs. “You’re right. They should be saying I’m downright jolly.”

That makes you laugh. “What are you, Santa Claus??”

Another short round of laughter, before you pull yourself together enough to stop and look at him. He’s looking back at you, that crinkle of laughter in his eyes - which doesn’t mean anything. It means nothing at all.

You look away first, fidgeting with the straps of your backpack. “I should go. Thanks again Midoriya.”

You still don’t look at him as he replies. “You’re welcome,” he says.

Without another word, you walk away.

Your ten month anniversary at Deku’s agency is around Christmas time, where the nearby shopping districts get taken over by holiday lights and festive trees of red and green. The weather gets colder, the days get shorter, and the work gets harder. Especially when most of your assignments consist of summarizing the events of the year. There are a lot of days where you are just trying to gather information.

It’s busy enough that you almost forget about the agency holiday party, scheduled just two days before Christmas. You only remember because your marketing specialist friend (Karly) volunteers you to help with decorations.

For The Most Wonderful Time of Year, it is rather stressful to make orders for the tree, the wreaths, the lights, and the Santa’s that are scattered throughout the office.

The day comes fast. Two days before Christmas, Deku’s agency is filled with laughter and chatter. Per the rules of the night, everyone is dawning their ugliest Christmas sweater and are currently partaking in the borderline alarming amount of alcohol that was brought. After all, the white elephant gifts have been exchanged, the toasts have been made - all that’s left to do is drink.

You’re no exception, as you have now found your way outside onto the balcony with a cocktail in your hand and a warmth in your cheeks. Being outside is nice considering how hot your body feels right now. You close your eyes as a nice breeze brushes against you.

That is how Midoriya finds you. “There you are!” he exclaims, closing the sliding door behind him as he steps forward to join you. “Been looking for you.”

You turn around to face him, eyes wide. He was… looking for you? “What for? Did you need something?”

He stops next to you. “No, no, nothing serious. I just wanted to say you did a good job with the party.” He grins, cheeks also a little rosy from drinking. “Everyone seems to be having a good time!”

You smile. “I’m glad. I would never have thought planning a party would be so stressful. But a part of me is glad I got to be in charge of it.” You glance at him, feeling unusually bold. It must be the alcohol. “Otherwise I would never get to see the great Deku in his Christmas sweater.”

True to your words, Midoriya is dawning an All Might Christmas sweater - the brightest shades of blue, yellow, and red that you’ve ever seen. It’s cute. Horrifyingly so.

Midoriya does a little pose that makes you laugh. “I mean, you could have seen this anytime. You just needed to ask.”

The remark makes you still because was he implying he wanted to discuss his interests with you?

The internal struggle leaves you a little winded, unsure how to respond to such a statement. “Is… is that so?” you reply softly. “B-But,” you stammer awkwardly. “I’m sure there are other people you could discuss your All Might collection with?”

Midoriya hums softly, resuming his position next to you against the balcony. “Like who?”

You shrug, trying to play it off casually. “I don’t know. Your girlfriend?”

He laughs gently at that. “Who is this girlfriend you speak of? She doesn’t exist here.”

Despite his behavior, it is a little surprising hearing that Deku doesn’t have a girlfriend. Especially considering that he looks the way he does and has literally been called Japan’s Sweetheart on numerous occasions.

You don’t feel too nervous at being called out like this. It definitely has to be because of the alcohol. “W-Well, I just figured. Someone who looks the way you do should have no problem finding someone.”

“Your confidence in me might be misplaced,” Midoriya returns. He turns to you. “Would you believe me if I told you that I have relationship problems too?”

“You? Having problems with women?” you joke. “Enlighten me then.”

He takes in a small breath. “Well,” he starts shyly. “Hypothetically, there’s someone that I’m interested in. Someone who I would think is smart, funny… and pretty.” There’s a weight in his words that settles heavily on your heart. “But… the problem, scientifically speaking, is that us being together would be inappropriate. I would never want this person to think I’m taking advantage of my position to manipulate them. And even if we were able to go out, I don’t want this person to be viewed negatively. I don’t want people to think she has been doing well or that she even got a job because of my personal feelings. After all…” he gaze drops to your lips for a moment. Your stomach clenches a little. “This person is a really hard worker. And I would never want to take that away from them.”

You wet your lips. “That does sound like a predicament, Mr. Deku.”

He smiles, albeit a little sadly. “I suppose…” he starts. “That if this situation was real, it could definitely be seen like that.”

You nod. “Right. Hypotheticals.” You take in a breath. “I guess you and I aren’t so different.”

He glances at you. “Relationship problems?”

You shrug. “Hypothetically, I could have problems.”

Midoriya laughs, playing along. “Right. Of course.”

“Let’s just say,” you start slowly. The alcohol buzz is starting to wear off. But you’re already neck-deep into this interaction and it’s too late to back off. “There’s this guy. He makes me laugh, looks out for me, and has never made me feel insecure. He’s patient, smart, and thoughtful - someone that I really admire, and someone I like a lot. The problem, hypothetically, would be that there’s a gap between us. Not an age gap or anything crazy but more just… the kind of gap where us dating would make him look bad. And he’s a good guy, who doesn’t deserve that kind of speculation.”

You dare to spare a glance at Midoriya for the first time since you started talking. He’s looking at you like it’s his first time seeing you - eyes wide and lips parted. But there’s some uncertainty in his eyes. Like he doesn’t want to jump to conclusions on who you’re talking about. You understand that. After all, his own situation could describe anyone.

But he turns towards you with eyes open and vulnerable. And you are rooted to your spot, helpless to do nothing but watch him watch you. You watch as he steps closer, feel as he reaches out to grab at the bottom hem of your Christmas sweater and thumbs at the material. As if he is giving you permission to turn away.

When you don’t, his fingers snake upwards to touch your hips. “It seems,” he breathes out softly. “We’re both a little stupid, aren’t we?”

You exhale as his hands settle. You feel warm with something decidedly non-alcoholic. “So stupid…” You want to just close your eyes, lose yourself in Midoriya as you’ve wanted to do for the past few months.

But.

Your hands find him, your fingers curling around his wrist. It takes a lot of (obvious) effort to pull him away. “Wait,” you whisper. “W-We just talked about how this isn’t right. And I don’t want you getting in trouble for this.”

His eyes search yours, but he squeezes your waist once before relinquishing the grip. “You’re right,” he returns, smiling a little. “There’s a lot of alcohol at this party. Makes me do things I shouldn’t. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “You don’t need to say sorry. Only if you don’t mean it and you don’t really like me.”

His eyes have not left your face. “I do mean it. I do like you, a lot. I’m just sorry that it has to be like this. If things were different…”

“I know,” you whisper. “But I… care about you. And I don’t want people to think you’re the kind of guy who’ll date an employee. Especially since you’re back and trying to establish yourself as a pro-hero here.”

Midoriya laughs, but it’s not meant to be a humorous noise. He reaches out, thumbing your cheek one last time as if to commit the gesture to memory before he pulls away. “I don’t want us to pretend like this conversation never happened, but I hope that we can still be… friends.”

Despite the unexpected turn of events (at a Christmas party of all places), you warm slightly at all how well he’s taking it. Not that you expected him to take it badly. And that, above all, he considers you a friend. “Of course,” you reply. “That’s what I want too.”

The pair of you stare for another long moment before someone is sliding open the glass door of the agency that leads to the balcony. It’s Karly, calling out your name.

You and Izuku look away, the moment gone. “I’m out here, Karly.”

Said marketing specialist appears from the shadows, cheeks bright red from rose much like everyone else. But she stops short when she notices the two of you. “Oh! I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”

“No,” Midoriya cuts in quickly. He’s not looking at either of you. “We’ve finished our discussion.”

Deciding to leave him alone, you nod towards Karly. “Well, some people are asking about the cake…”

“Oh!” you exclaim. “That’s right. I know where it is.” You turn towards Deku. “Will you be okay?”

You mean it in two different ways. Deku looks at you like he knows what you mean. “Yes, I’ll be fine.”

You make your way back into the party, refusing to think about what happens next.

What happens is a quiet next few months. Midoriya becomes busy with joint patrols, an onslaught of photoshoots, and general paperwork. He still comes by your desk when he happens to be around when you are around, but the interactions are safe and surface level. It is a warped version of what you and Midoriya would call friendly conversations.

While you miss the deeper conversations, you’re also guilty of not bringing up anything that could bring you back to that night. The fear of uncertainty gnaws at you, afraid of what could happen if you were to cross that threshold with Midoriya.

Like you, Midoriya is also good at maintaining that friendly facade. He thanks you for your hard work on your one-year anniversary, allowing your boss to take you out for dinner. He signs a company congratulations card when you graduate from university and officially become a working adult.

And you’re thankful that he’s willing to… move on, you suppose? Perhaps avoid is a better word. It’s hard to smile and laugh with Midoriya when you’ve spent the better part of your employment at Deku’s agency wanting more.

Despite those things, that isn’t the reason why you’re here now. “Here” being the corner coffee shop on a random Saturday, laptop open with a whole listing of hiring hero agencies displayed. Some of the reason is that awkward limbo with Deku, yes, but most of it has to do with the desire for a full-time job. Working part-time at Deku’s agency had been more of a necessity than a want, considering you had to work around a full-time student schedule.

But with graduation under your belt, full-time has become an option. While the hiring manager at the agency has been open to the conversation of offering you that full-time position, this feels like a rare moment of opportunity to branch out.

Besides, you think absently, there are a lot of good agencies hiring.

Quietly, you apply to a few of them, wondering if your experience at Deku’s agency and all the hats you had to wear as a result of working at essentially an agency start-up could impress some of these bigger agencies.

As it turns out, it does. Because over the next month, you garner the attention of Riot Ground. Again, quietly, you interview a few times before they offer you a position - one that will include working at a cubicle rather than a front desk and definitely involves a higher level of responsibility with a higher pay that you would be dumb to reject.

Your direct boss is supportive of the decision, understanding that this type of industry exploration is what you want for the next chapter of your career. It’s a chance, she says, you need to take. Additionally, she accepts your two week notice.

Telling Midoriya had been something you’ve wanted to avoid since Riot Ground offered you the position. In fact, it’s very possible that he already knows what is going on. It’s no secret that the Riot Ground agency and Deku agency are close - the leading heroes have known each other since high school.

But you decide to just assume that Midoriya doesn’t know what’s going on as you knock on Deku’s office door, taking in a breath when he tells you to come in. He’s finishing up some paperwork as you open the door, definitely looking appalled by your appearance. You hardly ever visit him, especially not since the Christmas party.

“Hey,” he breathes, closing his laptop. “Is everything okay?”

You smile a little, trying to stay professional. “Yes! Everything is good. I just thought I should let you know something that’s coming up.”

He frowns, but nods slowly. “Okay,” he says, a little confused. “What’s up?”

“Well,” you start. “As you know, since I graduated I’ve been thinking about getting into a full-time position. I don’t know any kind of end goal for myself, but I want the opportunity to grow my experience however. And wherever. So… I just thought that I should let you know that Riot Ground offered me a position. And I accepted. I start in a month, but I already submitted my two weeks.”

Midoriya is quiet for a moment, processing the ultimate conclusion to your words. Then, he laughs a little. Softly. “Kacchan… I mean, Bakugou told me that they had just hired someone from my agency. When he spoke about the new hire’s interview, I could tell he was impressed and excited to have that kind of person on his team. I just had a feeling that it was you.” He stands up, rounding the desk to lean against the front. “I’m really happy for you.”

You smile, relieved. Although you should have known to expect nothing less from Deku. “Thank you, Midoriya.”

But he does smile back, sighing a little. “I will say that I’m going to miss having you around. Getting to talk to you and see you at the end of a hard day always made things easier for me.”

Your heart picks up a little. You hadn’t expected him to use that kind of line on you. “I-I mean,” you stammer. “It’s not like I’m going off the grid. The agency is just a subway ride away. A-And, I’m still going to be in the industry. So we’ll see each other around at events and such… Besides, we’re friends.”

Friends. A delicate word to reflect on a delicate subject. And it shows in Midoriya’s eyes, watching you carefully. His eyes look you up and down, before he gives a half-smile. It looks like he has so much to say. But he eventually settles with, “Of course. We are friends.”

A long pause follows. The pair of you take each other in, until the sound of footsteps pass by Deku’s office and it brings you back to reality. You look away first. “I just… I thought I would let you know. As a courtesy.”

He nods. “I-I appreciate that. And I really am happy for you. Kacchan and Kirishima are good heroes, and they are good bosses too. I expect great things will happen with you on board.”

You laugh. “Midoriya, you are speaking way too highly of me. It’s just an entry level position, The amount of influence I’ll have is probably second to none.”

He shrugs. “So what? I believe in my friends - and I believe in you.” After a moment he clears his throat. “When is your last day?”

“About a week and a half from now,” you reply.

He nods slowly. “Got it. Well, thanks for letting me know.”

You leave work that night a little unsettled, wondering if you’ve made the right decision in telling Midoriya.

The last week and a half of your employment at Deku’s agency is quiet. Midoriya gets pulled into a job on the other side of the country, meaning he doesn’t get to see you on your last day. You tell yourself that it’s normal that a big boss wouldn’t mind one of his part-time interns leaving and try to make peace with it.

Midoriya is right about Bakugou and Kirishima. Despite being a little rough around the edges, Bakugou is polite and engaging. Naturally, Kirishima is warm and welcoming. Ground Zero is definitely a bigger agency compared to Deku’s up and coming roots - but the two heroes still take the time to greet you.

It isn’t long before you’re taking on your own assignments - but your team is nice and supportive and Kirishima even tells you that the recent report you handed in was good.

Two weeks after you start working at Riot Ground, Bakugou’s Vogue Japan article gets released and you are immediately pulled last minute into the afterparty preparations that Riot Ground is holding to celebrate. You’re more of a background shadow to provide support, but you are still invited to the party. Kirishima says you can think of your attendance as a rite of passage for your employment - one that you intend to take full advantage of.

The afterparty is hosted at the top floor of this insane skyscraper in the city center - surrounded by lights and music and drinking. You spend most of the early night with coworkers, those in the same department as you as you all talk and laugh and make sure that things are going smoothly.

This sense of ease is probably how you’re able to notice him before he notices you.

Your stomach drops when you see Midoriya, someone who you hadn’t seen since that last conversation in his office. He’s at the bar, talking to some girl with a surprising amount of engagement and focus that you stare.

You cannot help the sickly feeling weighing at the pit of your stomach - because you cannot remember the last time Midoriya talked to you like that. Actually, you can. It was before the Christmas party. Before you engaged in that game of hypotheticals with him. You’ve never regretted the way the exchange went down. But you have regretted the aftermath - the halted conversations, the surface level charades. Midoriya had said he liked you back, sure, but perhaps he only did nice things for you because he wanted something? And surely once he realized he was never going to get anywhere with you - he just gave up, didn’t he?

That’s stupid, you think to yourself, because Midoriya isn’t like that. He’s sweet and earnest. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person to just throw them aside when they are no longer of use.

But, the other side of you whispers, things haven’t been the same since that night at the Christmas party. Perhaps it’s not out of left field for you to be doubtful.

Across the way, Midoriya catches your eye and gives you a smile. You wave back half-heartedly.

He tilts his head, giving you a look you hate that you can read. Is everything okay?

You just give a shrug, turning back to your coworker before he could respond.

You assume it’s the end of that conversation with Midoriya. In fact, the next time you (subconsciously) try looking for him, he isn’t at the bar anymore but on the dance floor with Uravity and Shouto. You disappear into an empty hallway that leads to the elevators, sipping the drink (water) you’ve gotten and try to ignore that vague feeling of relief upon realizing that girl was nowhere to be seen.

You turn back to your water, perhaps waiting for it to drown you or give you answers to questions you are too afraid to ask.

That is, until a figure slides up next to you. At first, you think it’s some stranger coming up to bother you. But it’s Midoriya.

“You look lonely,” he comments. Despite the loud music coming from the main room just a few feet down, the hallway is insulated enough where you can hear him properly.

You glance at him. “What do you mean? I’m peachy-keen.”

He frowns, the first crack in his wall. “You know, people who say they are peachy-keen are usually the opposite of that. I just can’t help but notice that you’re here by yourself, and you’re drinking water.”

“I’m on the clock,” you reply.

Midoriya looks around for a moment, before turning to face you fully. “Is everything okay? Nobody’s bothering you, are they?”

You look at him this time. “It’s fine, Midoriya.” You jerk your head out towards the main room. “Why don’t you go reunite with your girlfriend or something?”

Midoriya blinks. “Girlfriend? What are you talking about?”

Your eyes narrow into a glare. “Don’t try to play dumb with me, Deku. I know that you saw me looking. She’s cute. Thanks for letting me know about that, by the way.”

“Oh, just like you told me that you were looking for a new job?” Deku bites back. Another crack in his game of pretend. He also seems annoyed you’ve addressed him by his hero name. “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s Uraraka’s manager and has been her manager since we graduated high school. We’re friends - just like I thought you and me were friends.”

You push yourself off the wall at that. “We are friends,” you protest hotly, defensive, not even sure if you believe your own words. “It’s just…”

“Just what?” Midoriya snaps, that friendly facade gone now. “Just the fact that I thought things would go back to normal after that night, only to get blindsided?” He runs a hand through his curls. “Listen, I was and am really happy for you that you got a great job with Kacchan and Eijiro. I just wish you told me you were planning to leave. That’s what friends do.”

“Well, why does it matter?” you retort. “A boss shouldn’t care too much if a lowly part-time intern decides to pursue a different agency for a different opportunity - !”

“But you weren’t just a lowly part-time intern!” he says loudly, then lowers his voice. His admittance echoes in your mind, making you run warm. Midoriya watches you carefully, as if waiting for you to dismiss him. When you don’t, he takes a step closer, rounding on you so that your back is against the hallway wall. “To me, it wasn’t like that. At first, it was. But I grew to really like you as more than just someone I saw at work everyday. I liked you a lot.”

You narrow your eyes at him, refusing to back down, remembering your doubts just a few moments prior. “Why does that matter now anyways? You clearly have more fun with that manager anyways.”

He groans, stepping closer, hands settling on your waist to push you against the wall. “What is this about? It seems like we’re mad about two separate things.”

You huff, trying to look away from him. “I’m not mad.”

He rolls his eyes. “Baby, your glare could cut glass. I can be single-minded sometimes. But I’m not stupid.”

You hate to admit it. But the pet name softens you up a bit. Enough that you turn your gaze back to Midoriya. “I was just frustrated okay?” you shoot back. “I was under the impression that we would stay friends too. But you were so distant after I told you I was leaving. You didn’t even say goodbye to me on my last day at the agency. I know you were away but… it still hurt me. And then I come to this party and see you for the first time in a month talking to some other girl. Not just talking - talking excitedly and happily. I just couldn’t help but overthink about why you enjoyed your time with her more than time with me.”

His eyes flicker between your eyes, but he relaxes after a moment. “I always enjoy my time with you,” he explains softly. “But I’m sorry. I should have spoken up when I noticed we were playing this game of just pretending to be alright. I think the thought of confrontation made me more nervous. And I’m sorry for not being there for your last day.”

You sigh. Perhaps hearing his apology is just what you’ve needed after all this time. “No. I’m sorry. It takes two people to have a conversation, and I was also not reaching out to communicate my frustration. I guess… perhaps, a part of me wanted to know what would happen with us. And if…” you trail off.

Midoriya raises an eyebrow. “If…” he coaxes, leaning in. When you don’t say anything, he smiles. “If I still like you?”

You pout. “You have no tact, do you know that?”

“I think the proper phrase is ‘relief knowing I can now openly communicate with the girl I’ve been crazy about for months’.” He pauses. “Unless you’re more of a show don’t tell kind of person?”

He’s teasing you. “I don’t know,” you finally manage, feeling warm all over. “What would showing me look like?”

At your question, Midoriya smiles again. Less of a teasing smile, more of a soft and understanding curve that makes your heart race. Your anger is completely forgotten as one of his hands gently takes your chin. “Probably something like this…”

He leans in. You close your eyes, heart thumping out of your chest - because was this really going to happen? Right here? Right now? And to think you were so mad at him just an hour ago…

A call of your name. “Oi, I know you’re out here - oh. Fuck.”

Midoriya pulls away, his grip on your chin and your waist gone as if both of you are ripped back to reality. You jolt, eyes flashing open and turning towards the source of the noise. Bakugou stands at the entrance of the hallway, lips parted and eyes wide and looking uncharacteristically startled.

“Kacchan!” Midoriya exclaims, glancing at you before glancing back at your boss. “We were just… This wasn’t a spur of the moment thing…”

Bakugou tsks, recovering quickly as he raises a hand up to stop Deku from spiraling into a flurry of conversation and tangents. “I didn’t ask, nerd. I just need my employee’s help with something.”

You try to recover as well, ignoring your racing heart as you turn towards Bakugou. “O-Of course, what do you need?”

You step away from Midoriya, but he catches your wrist in his hand before you can go too far.

“Hey,” he says, stepping up next to you, not speaking until you’re looking at him. “Don’t be a stranger. If I promise to call, promise you’ll pick up.”

You cannot help but just smile and nod. “Okay,” you return. “I promise.”

He beams, and releases the hold he has on your wrist. You walk up to Bakugou, allowing him to lead you back into the loud dancefloor.

“Bakugou!” you call out, feeling the need to fill the silence between the two of you despite the music and laughter around you. “Midoriya is nice! And I really like him!”

Bakugou grunts, whirling around to face you. “Shut up!” he retorts. “I know. The stupid nerd hasn’t shut the fuck up about you since he found out I hired you. So I don’t think you need to worry. He likes you a lot too.” He pauses. “Now can you please help Eijiro set up the champagne fountain?”

You grin for more than just the champagne foundation. You shoot your boss a thumbs-up before making your way back into the main party, definitely feeling better than when you first stepped in here.

True to his promise, Midoriya calls. And to your promise, you answer. It doesn’t take long for the pair of you to resume the same ease of connection that developed when you first met. Partly because you have all this history together, but also because the feelings have been put out there. The calls and texts continue without the worry of crossing past a boss/employee relationship.

Having Midoriya in your life like this is different. There’s still a bridge to cross with him, but there’s a different openness about this compared to pretending not to be so into him.

Now he knows how much you like him. And you’re waiting for him to take the next steps.

But, again, it’s a line neither of you cross for the next few months. Midoriya is busy with work, and so are you. Ground Zero keeps you on your toes with increased responsibilities and solo projects that are stressful yet accomplishing. Yet, every “good job” thrown your way feels like a different badge of honor that heightens your confidence. It feels like some of the things you’ve wanted for your life (a stable career with responsibilities you enjoy doing and coworkers you actually like spending time with) are starting to come together.

Although yes, you are in a predicament with Deku, you refuse to let that damper your attitude about your overall life trajectory. Things will happen when they are able to happen.

It’s a thought that comforts you. For the next few months following the Riot Ground party, you maintain a limbo with Midoriya. Until there is a pounding on your door at three in the morning.

You start awake at the noise echoing through your apartment, heart pounding and eyes suddenly alert. What time is it? The digital BT21 Koya clock on your nightstand reads 3:02 AM. Who is it? No idea. A handful of college students live in this apartment building, so it isn’t unusual to hear knocks at this hour. They’re usually short; this one is not.

The persistence of it drags you out of bed and towards the door. Is it the smartest way to go about this situation? No. It could be a villain with super hearing, waiting for you to make a noise!! Or perhaps people pretending to be maintenance just so they can break in?

God, you definitely need to stop scrolling through Tiktok.

You sigh, tiptoeing to the peephole on your door. You’re expecting drunk college kids, or people you’re supposed to ignore.

What you see, however, is neither of those things. It’s Deku, slumped against the wall, looking uncharacteristically tired and out-of-breath. Brows furrowing and eyes widening, you open the door with more force than necessary. “Midoriya!” you exclaim, lowering your voice towards the tail-end when you remember that it is three in the morning. “A-Are you okay? What happened?”

Midoriya looks over at you. His face is bruised slightly and you don’t even want to know what kind of injuries he’s hiding underneath the suit. What happened? When he texted you earlier than evening, he looked and sounded perfectly fine. His eyes rake over you from head to toe, before he sighs. “Oh good. You’re okay.”

You stare, trying to mentally decipher his words but find that you have no idea what he’s talking about. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

He closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath before he pushes himself off the doorframe. Quietly, he leans into your space and slowly cups your face with his hands. Midoriya follows the curve of your face carefully, committing each detail to memory.

Clearly approaching the situation normally isn’t getting into his head. He’s too shaken by what he has seen. So you stare up at him, trying to catch his gaze. “Izuku…?” you try.

That catches his attention. He shifts to look back at you. He sighs, pressing his forehead against yours. “It’s okay. I’m okay. It’s just…”

“Do you want to come inside?” you offer gently.

Midoriya nods, allowing you to pull him inside the apartment. You make it to the living room, where he drops himself unceremoniously onto your couch. Despite his disheveled appearance, he is watching you carefully and looking more alert than before.

You look back at him, continuing to assess his condition. What happened to him? Did he need to see a doctor? You try to echo one of those thoughts. “Are you okay, Midoriya?”

He blinks. “I liked it…” he starts.

You move to sit on the couch. “You liked it?”

“You called me Izuku,” he clarifies. “I want you to keep calling me that.”

You sigh, eyes slanting into more of a frown than the wide-eyed concern from before. “Are you drunk?”

He looks away, rubbing at his face. “No, I’m not.”

“Well, do I have to drive you to the hospital?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“I’d have to disagree. A Midoriya… I mean Izuku,” you correct when Midoriya gives you a look. “An Izuku who is normal wouldn’t come barging in at three in the morning looking like he’s just seen hell.”

He doesn’t say anything to that, which worries you more. Well, if he doesn’t want to go to the hospital and he’s not drunk, you turn to the next best solution.

You move to get off of the couch. “Let me get you some water.”

“Wait.” His hand catches your wrist. He’s not even pulling you that hard, but his touch leaves you rooted to the spot. “J-Just stay here, if that’s okay.”

You settle back on the couch, trying to catch his eye. Yours widen slightly when you realize that his eyes are glassy. Was Midoriya crying? “Hey, Izuku…” you start, sitting closer to him. “What’s wrong?”

He looks up for a moment, before looking back over at you. “Can I…” he trails off. “Can I just…” When you don’t flinch away, he takes that as a sign. He wraps his arms around your waist, scooping you up and plopping him on his lap with your knees on either side of him. Straddling him, you let him manhandle you. You let him press you to him, chest to chest, and a hand at the back of your head to press your face into his neck. He noses at your hairline slowly.

“Izuku,” you whisper, voice muffled into his suit. “Tell me what happened.”

Midoriya takes in one more deep breath, before he loosens his grip enough for you to pull back and see his face. “I was finishing up my patrol when a group of villains ambushed me. That part was normal, since it’s the middle of the night and maybe they thought they could get away with it? Everything was fine until I saw you. One of the villains used his quirk and made me see something that really shook me up.”

Considering that he’s here, hugging you like he’s trying to merge with you, you think you have a vague idea of what he could have seen. But you refuse to be self-centered. You gently fiddle with the hair at the back of his neck. “What did you see?”

He doesn’t look at you as his fingers run over the hem of your sleeping shirt. “You showed up, and they took you away. No matter how far I ran, I couldn’t catch up. I couldn’t save you. Luckily, some of my sidekicks showed up so they didn’t get away. But I couldn’t stop thinking about what they had shown me. I just had to make sure you were okay.”

You exhale, not realizing you had held your breath during Midoriya’s story. At the very least, this explains his frantic behavior. “It’s okay,” you whisper. “I’m here.”

He sighs, moving his hands to your waist. “It’s not okay though,” he returns, looking at you. “I think not being able to talk things out with you has freaked me out, thinking that I’ll miss my chance and lose you.”

“You won’t lose me,” you say quietly. “I really like you.” You relax slightly in his arms. “We don’t have to talk about us right now but I don’t want you to rush into anything with me. I know that you’re here to protect people and you’re trying to establish yourself. I don’t want to get in the way of that. I don’t want you to spread yourself too thin.” You look down, suddenly nervous. “When this becomes something, I’m going to be a little selfish. I don’t want to feel like I’m coming in second place. I want everything that you’ll give me, and I want to feel like you’re always going to choose me. I know that in itself is selfish, but I just want to be upfront with you.”

One of Midoriya’s hands comes up to cup your cheek. He angles himself to meet your gaze. “Don’t ever call yourself selfish like it’s a bad thing. I want you to be selfish because I always want you to myself.” He starts mindlessly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I want to be honest with you too. I can’t promise you that I can respond to texts within the hour. I can’t even promise that I’ll be on time for every date. But I’ll always consider you. And I’ll always choose to come back to you.”

Overcome with helpless affection for him, you cannot help looking down at his lips. Suddenly, you’re aware of what you’re wearing and what you’re not wearing. Your sleeping attire is just a Riot Ground t-shirt you got from a team-building event during orientation and some loose shorts. Your lack of a bra is the most obvious.

Judging from Midoriya’s darkened eyes, he knows this.

A pause. Then he brings you down to him, kissing you softly. Time seems to melt away as you shut your eyes and allow yourself to get lost in him. You can feel Midoriya’s grip tighten, pulling you closer as little uncontrollable whimpers fall from your lips.

Without warning, you feel yourself get hoisted up again. One hand around your waist, one hand hooked around a leg as you are maneuvered onto your back. Above you, Midoriya is steady and comforting and warm. He stares down at you like it is his first time seeing you. The sight sends jolts of anticipation through your body.

On instinct, your arms find the back of his neck as he leans down to peck your lips once, twice, thrice more before starting a trail of butterfly kisses down your neck. He stops at the base, nipping and biting. It tickles, causing little giggles to escape you as you twitch occasionally at the overwhelming sensation.

Midoriya hums, lifting himself back up. “So sensitive,” he mutters.

You pout, tighten your grip on the back of his suit. “Is that okay?”

He smiles, leaning back down to touch your nose with his. “More than okay. It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Want to keep going?”

You cannot help but smile back, heart beating helplessly in your chest. “Yes,” you whisper, nervous but knowing that you trust him more than anything.

So Midoriya kisses you again, his hands move to your waist to inch your shirt up higher and higher. He kisses down your stomach, fingers gripping the waistband of your shorts. “Is this okay?” he asks softly.

You nod, realizing after a moment that he cannot see you. “Yes, yes, please Izuku…”

You stare up at the ceiling as he pulls your bottoms down, exposing you to the air outside. It doesn’t stay unoccupied for long before he’s diving in between your legs, licking and sucking at spots that make you see stars.

And when he curls up with you later that night under the blankets, refusing to let you go as you giggle and complain about needing the restroom, your heart is high with hope. Hope that perhaps it’s finally time for you and Midoriya. That perhaps, the game is finally over.

The following day, Midoriya shows up to the Riot Ground agency. He had left early that morning, leaving behind a text apologizing and promising to make it up to you later that day. You hadn’t been entirely sure what making it up to you would entail, but you just told him you were looking forward to it.

It’s a little bit before your lunch break when Bakugou comes stalking towards your cubicle. You’re still on the phone with the guys at HEROES MAGAZINE when he approaches, but he’s surprisingly patient as he waits for the call to end.

You hang up after a few more minutes of last minute confirmations. “Everything okay?” you ask, redirecting your attention to Bakugou.

He grunts, crossing his hands over his chest. “You have a visitor. Real insistent about seeing you.”

You tilt your head. “Who is it?”

He sighs, unfolding his arms. “Come on.”

Nervously, you follow Bakugou into his office. Inside, you find Midoriya sitting on the couch. He’s talking to Kirishimia, but all the attention shifts to you as soon as you enter. Midoriya’s face lights up. “Hey!” he greets cheerfully, standing up to approach you.

You let him, unable to help but smile back as the memories of last night fill you with warmth. The fact that those events were real and tangible still baffles you. “Hi, Izuku…”

He scratches the back of his neck. “I really am sorry about having to leave after… yeah. After that.”

You laugh, forgetting that both of you have company. “It’s fine. I know you’re busy. You’re here. That’s what’s important to me.”

Midoriya smiles, actually looking relieved at your reassurance. “I’m glad…”

From what sounds like miles away, Bakugou interrupts with a laugh. “Oh my fucking god.”

You turn to look at him. “Something wrong boss?”

Bakugou is still smirking. He looks between you and Midoriya like he knows something you do not. He, however, makes it clear with his observation. “You guys finally hooked up, didn’t you?”

Immediately, your heart feels like it’s racing on overdrive as your entire body runs hot. “H-How did you… I mean, it’s just… I don’t…”

Midoriya’s cheeks turn pink. “Kacchan, we’re in a workplace - can’t you keep things professional?”

“Professional?” Bakugou echoes, smirking. “You have a lot of nerve saying that to me, Deku. Especially when the two of you are all googly-eyed right in front of my salad!!!”

“Oi, Katsuki,” Kirishima interrupts, getting up from the couch and walking over to slap a hand on Bakugou’s shoulder. “I think it’s cute. Go easy on them.” Kirishima shifts his attention to you and Midoriya. “So, what’s this? You guys just hooking up? Or boyfriend and girlfriend? No shame either way!! I think it’s great that we live in a society where every stage and every kind of relationship has an appropriate label.”

The overall question makes you want the ground to swallow you whole. This is especially the case because you and Midoriya haven’t even discussed what this is yet. What if you answered and it wasn’t the answer Midoriya had in mind. Or would staying silent be the better option? Should you already know what kind of relationship you’re in with Midoriya? You know you talked things out yesterday but was making an assumption going too far?

Your silence makes Kirishima smile. “I mean, there’s also no shame in being undecided. As long as you guys are communicating.”

Midoriya wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close. “I’m actually here to invite you to dinner tonight,” he says, pointedly ignoring his friends and their teasing smiles.

You smile nervously, unsure whether or not to go along with Midoriya. You decide for it eventually. “Sure. I get off around 5. Can I meet you someplace?”

He shakes his head, looking at you with stars in his eyes. “No, no, I’ll come pick you up.”

True to his promise, Midoriya is in the lobby of Riot Ground. He gives you that same bright smile, takes your hand. The restaurant he’s selected for the two of you is a few stops away, and he fills any silence with questions about your day and conversations like this is any normal day. Not at all like you’re about to go on (what you would consider to be) a date with Midoriya.

It’s a sentiment you feel confident enough to echo once the pair of you are seated next to each other in the booth. You notice quickly that he’s taken you to a ramen shop you’ve mentioned enjoying once or twice. The realization draws out a happy, private smile.

At your observation of this date, he mirrors your grin. “I’m glad we’re on the same page about this. It makes me feel less nervous about telling you that… last night?” He asks like he needs to make sure you know what he’s referring to. Like you need a reminder. But you nod, because Midoriya seems nervous. “That was all real to me. I know dating me would be challenging. But I really like you and I want to be with you. I hope that doesn’t freak you out.”

Detecting his nerves regarding the subject, you reach out to take his hand. “Izuku, it doesn’t freak me out. I also mean what I said yesterday. I really like you.” You feel yourself go warm with meekness. “Although, I thought it was obvious that I wouldn’t freak out no matter what you said. You did spend the night, amongst other things… I don’t do that with guys I don’t like.”

Midoriya laughs softly. “I just didn’t want to make any assumptions.”

You nod. “Well, cease your worries. I am thoroughly into you.”

Since you’re not rejecting his advances, Midoriya grows bolder. “So… can I do this…?” He laces your fingers together.

You smile. “Yes,” you whisper, looking over at him.

He moves closer, still wearing that fond grin. “And when I drop by the agency, can I tell Kacchan that I’m visiting my girlfriend?”

Your smile morphs into a grin, but there are butterflies in your stomach. “You should probably be a little more professional around your Kacchan.”

He pouts at that. “What if it’s for something important?”

You gap slightly, unconsciously inching closer to him. “What could be so important with you and your new girlfriend that you need to visit her workplace?”

He smiles at the question, eyes flickering down to your mouth before he leans in to kiss you. It’s firm and quick, startling you enough to elicit a squeak from the back of your throat. But he pulls away before you can relish in the gesture.

When you open your eyes, Midoriya is still looking at you. You can feel the weight of his answer in his stare, making one very firm decision: you were going to suck his dick on the car ride home.

Nearly one year later, the hero rankings are announced on a bright sunny afternoon.

You are in your now shared apartment when the broadcast starts. When Midoriya is announced as the new number one hero. It’s a big moment within the hero community; not entirely unexpected considering the anticipation of Deku’s return and what he has been able to accomplish since then. It’s a moment that garners big cheers as Midoriya takes the stage alongside the other top ten heroes.

You watch as each top ten hero makes a speech about their appreciation and their promise to continue protecting the country. As Midoriya makes his own speech, your heart feels light with pride and joy.

It’s a feeling that continues into the late afternoon, when you’re fitting the bed with newly washed sheets that you hear the front door open and slam shut. “Baby?” It’s Midoriya. “Baby, I’m home!!!”

You immediately come bounding out of the bedroom, dashing towards the entrance where Midoriya is slipping off his shoes. “Welcome back!! Congratulations on your ranking, Izuku!”

At once, he sweeps you up into a hug, bringing your feet off the floor and your laughter in his ear. “Thank you,” he whispers earnestly, setting you back on the floor. He kisses your cheeks, spoiling you as if you were the one who has just ranked as the number one hero in the country. “Did you watch the broadcast?”

“Of course!” you say, giving him a look. “It’s a big deal, Izuku.”

He pulls back enough to send you one of his soft smiles. “Thank you.”

You shake your head, cupping his cheeks. “How do you want to celebrate, Mr. Number One?”

“Well, Uraraka is hosting a party later today to celebrate the new rankings. But…” he trails off, turning meek. He leans forward, nose to nose. “Kind of want to eat you out. Is that okay?”

Your stomach flutters. His hands move up your shirt, touching at bare skin. “W-We should do something for you.”

“You letting me eat you out is the something for me,” Midoriya returns, removing his hands to start messing with your shorts. He pulls both shorts and panties down, lowering himself down to let you step out of them. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he traverses down the hall back into your shared bedroom. Gracefully, Midoriya lowers you amongst the pillows.

One, two, three more kisses along your forehead, cheek and lips, before Midoriya makes his way down your body. Lifting your shirt over your head, planting two kisses on each nipple, down your stomach, immediately wrapping his arms around your legs to keep them apart. A kiss on your clit melts into a lick that makes you choke on a whimper.

Midoriya has always been good at eating you out. Ever since that first night, he is keen on prodding at the spots that drive you to the edge the quickest, or dragging things out as long as he wants to. It’s that scary observational skills from his line of work getting put to personal use.

And you’re not complaining.

In the fifteen minutes he spends in between your legs, you come three times. You’re shaking, gasping, overwhelmed by the time he lifts his head up with his lips shiny with juice.

You’re still trying to catch your breath as Midoriya undoes his belt, takes out his cock. He runs it over your slit once before pushing in past the ring of muscle. The sensation makes you jolt, crying out as you arch and push at his chest. “Izuku… wait.” Your walls flutter, causing Midoriya to sputter. “I just need to catch my breath.”

You take a few deep breaths as Midoriya thumbs at your hip in apology. “Sorry baby, I should have asked first.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s fine. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Midoriya leans down, kissing your ear and down your neck, nipping gently at your collarbone.The gesture, while ticklish, helps relax you enough to reflect on the events of the day. You’re not sure how long it is before you speak again.

“Hey, so since you’re the number one hero now…” you start once you feel like your head has cleared up enough. “You’re probably going to be a whole lot busier. Lots more people are going to be looking at you and relying on you. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted…”

Saying the words out loud makes a new kind of reality dawn on you. How would you fit in this equation of Midoriya’s newest accomplishment?

“Hey.” Midoriya’s voice draws you back. His head lifts from your neck, locking you in an intense stare, hands planted on either side of you. “I don’t know what exactly is going on in that head of yours. Just because I’m the number one hero now doesn’t mean that I still don’t care about you. It doesn’t mean that I’m suddenly going to stop considering you. I’m number one to the country, but you’re number one to me and that’s what is important.”

You pause, letting his words sink in. You giggle. “Izuku, that was super cheesy.”

“And what of it?” he purrs, using your giggle as the okay to readjust you. He takes your ankles, repositioning them over his shoulders. He leans in, bringing your legs to your chest, sinking deeper into you. The sensation makes you whine, arching your back and curling your toes.

“Mmmm,” you whimper, unable to do anything else but lay there and take it.

“Do you understand now?” he asks, pulling out until the tip and thrusting back in. “Do you understand how much I love you?”

As if it wasn’t hard enough answering his question, he’s hitting something in you that makes it difficult to think. “Fffuck, Izuku… yes…”

“Then, you think you can say it back to me, pretty girl?” He straightens up, keeping one of your legs on his shoulder as he increases his pace. His grip on you is strong, while his other hand starts drawing tight circles on your clit.

You start fluttering around his cock, unable to move away from the simulation. So you try to push at his chest in warning. “Izuku… wait…”

“I don’t know if I can, baby,” he says, almost disappointedly. “I can’t let my girl walk around not knowing how much I care about her.”

“I do know…” you whimper, shaking when he finds the right angle to rub your clit. “Aaaaaa… I know how much you love me.”

You can hear the smile in his voice. “Good girl. Wanna say it back?”

He releases your other leg so that both fall on either side of his waist. Midoriya looms over you again, never once letting up his pace. “Say…” you manage, tongue feeling like jello. “Say what back?”

He hums. Still circling your clit, he runs his other hand up over your curves, palming your breast. “Say you love me back.”

“I love you - !” you squeal as he pinches a nipple. The coil in your stomach snaps, and white hot pleasure runs through your body. You shudder, tightening and fluttering and gasping. You weakly whimper as Midoriya continues to drive into you, your breasts bouncing with the movement. It stops when he gives you one last firm thrust, letting out a groan of his own that is so hot your walls flutter at the noise.

The high of what you’ve started together starts to die down as the silence is filled with your gasps and his panting.

Midoriya drops himself next to you, immediately wrapping his arms around you and nosing your hairline. “Hey,” he whispers.

“Hmmm?” you hum, content and still trying to catch your breath.

He doesn’t speak until you look at him. He leans in, touching his nose to yours. “I love you too.”

You try hard to bite back a grin. “Still want to go to Uraraka’s party?” you ask quietly.

He groans against your neck. “Not really.”

You giggle. “You should!” you scold. “It’ll be fun. You’re the number one hero now. Don’t you want to celebrate with your friends?”

“I’d rather just celebrate with you,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You roll your eyes playfully. “We just did. C’mon!” You push yourself off of bed, whirling around to face him. “I’m gonna pee. We’re going to shower, and then go.”

Never able to say no to you, Midoriya sits up on the bed and climbs out after you. “Okay, okay, baby. We’ll go.” Without warning, he hooks his arms under your knee and under your back, lifting you up and carrying you to the shower - the sound of your giggles filling the air.

The party is in full swing by the time you and Midoriya arrive at Uraraka’s house. Midoriya still has that post sex glow in his cheeks. It makes him clingy to you as you enter. The man at your side is immediately greeted by everyone, both friends and fans. It makes it easy for you to peel yourself away from your boyfriend, finding shelter in the living room.

There, you find Bakugou at the couch, nursing a drink in his hands.

Finding comfort in the sight of a familiar face, you approach him. “Bakugou! I didn’t think you’d show up.”

He gives you a sideways glance. “I wasn’t,” he says. “Eijirou said I should, so people can see that I’m supportive of Deku taking over the number one spot. Like I give a shit what people think anyways.”

You take a seat next to him. “I think you care a little bit. I know how much having that number one spot meant to you. Buuuutt,” you say, trying to lighten the mood a bit. “I think it could be seen as good, friendly competition. What do you think? Gonna start working double shifts to get your spot back?” you ask teasingly, grinning playfully at Bakugou. The latter is surprisingly quiet.

Bakugou gives you a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I knew it was only a matter of time,” he gruffs. “I really do hope as his girlfriend, you’ll never have to see this. But Deku? That nerd is crazy. Back in high school, during the war, he became this self-sacrificing maniac and acted out on his own. It’s a version of him I haven’t seen since then, but it’s a trait that never really went away. Deku lives to give back,” he mutters, so quiet that you wonder if you’re meant to hear him or not. “That’s why people gravitate towards him. It’s hard to compete with someone who would so willingly trade his happiness for others without hesitation.”

Bakugou’s eyes find something. You turn, following his stare to see Midoriya chatting it up with other pro-heroes. The latter looks bashful, but proud - he blends right into this world you are only just now starting to adjust to.

I hope you’ll never have to see it.

You watch as Midoriya’s gaze finds yours, waving when he smiles at you, trying not to ponder too deeply into Bakugou’s words.

Despite your wishes, you spend some time thinking about Bakugou’s observation. It’s true. Midoriya is a giver. He gives and gives and gives, hardly ever taking anything in return. He rarely asks to take time off, asks you to take care of him, and rarely ever thinks about himself.

A year after Midoriya becomes the number one hero, you start to see what Bakugou had meant.

It starts small. So subtle that you don’t even notice it at the time. It happens on a random Thursday night, when Midoriya stops kissing you hello after coming back from the office. It’s something you don’t even notice at the time. You had just continued cooking dinner, oblivious to what that simple missing gesture would spiral into.

Then, he misses a lunch date. Texts about his whereabouts and any villain appearances on the news are non-existent, until you find out that he just got caught up on paperwork and simply lost track of time. He apologizes later that evening, promising to make it up to you. And he does. He brought flowers home the next day and took you out to dinner. So you forget about the incident, assuming that it was a one-time thing.

Only, it isn’t just a one-time thing. He misses a few more dates, and doesn’t even tell you he’s coming home late one evening, before you decide it’s time to prod. Gently though, because you aren’t a confrontational person.

It happens late one night, because Midoriya stops taking days off, when both of you are in bed. Midoriya still wraps one arm around you, using his other hand to scroll through his phone.

“Izuku, is everything okay?” you ask softly, almost nervous to question it.

He looks at you, smiling uneasily. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“N-No reason. I was just wondering if you’ve been more busy than before. It’s just that you’ve been coming home later and later. Not to mention that I know that you know there have been a few dates we need to catch up on…”

Midoriya lowers his phone, pondering your words as he wraps both arms around you. “I know, baby. I’m sorry about that. You know, I didn’t realize just how many cases the police are working on at any given time. Big-case villains, small-case villains, missing people reports… so as the number one hero I’m trying to help out as much as I can.”

You look over at him. “You’re working with the police to solve all those cases?” you try for a smile and a joke. “No wonder you’ve been so busy.”

He grins, not noticing the fake smile you’ve plastered on your face. He’s looking at you, but it feels more like he’s looking through you. “People out there need me.”

You touch his cheek, trying to root him back to you. “Well, I need you too, Izuku.” You try to sound lighthearted, but something heavy plants itself in your heart.

At that, Midoriya’s eyes really do focus on your face this time. He cups your cheek. “Baby, I’m right here. Always.”

Are you really? It’s a thought that your mind whispers to you softly, challenging you to say it. But you cannot rise to the task. You don’t say anything that night. You just nod, hugging him and thinking: this is the last time I’ll have to say this.

Unfortunately, life does not work that way. It finds a way to topple down all around you. Not only does Midoriya remain busy, but you get promoted at Ground Zero’s agency. You move from a cubicle into your own office along with a clusterfuck of new responsibilities.

The next few months feel like one thing after another. Every attempt both you and Midoriya make falls flat. You plan a birthday party for Midoriya, only to fly out on a impromptu business trip hours before. Midoriya makes reservations for the grand opening of this fancy sushi restaurant, but ultimately stands you up because he fell asleep on the couch. He tries to come home early to surprise you, but you’re out buying groceries for the week.

Conversation between the two of you becomes as nonexistent as the plans you try to make. What were once joyful exchanges about the past or eventful tales from your jobs become surface level questions about the weather or if either one of you were going to be home for dinner - with the answer typically being no. It feels like another game of pretend with Midoriya - only this time, you’re pretending like this relationship is on the right track.

Everything comes to a headway on a Tuesday morning. Midoriya is out of bed and out of the apartment. Typical. You didn’t even hear him come in last night (or early this morning). But you notice a text message from Kirishimia at six in the morning. Less typical. Urgent meeting at the heroes commission. Turn on the news when you wake up.

The headlines jump out onto the screen as soon as you turn on the TV.

DEVASTATING EARTHQUAKE STRIKES. TOP OVERSEAS PRO HEROES REQUESTED FOR REINFORCEMENTS.

The footage is horrible. Buildings toppled down, rubble everywhere. People digging through. Children screaming. All the things of nightmares, not unlike the disaster you remember from your childhood - from the Liberation War all those years ago.

It’s footage that continues to be displayed over social media and over the city as you get ready for work and take the subway to the office. It’s still there when you turn on the TV in your office when you show up to work.

“It’s horrible,” Roni, your friend from the finance department, mutters, arms crossed over her chest as she joins you to watch. “The hero commission is probably trying to figure out which heroes to send over and which ones need to stay here in Japan.” She turns to you. “Any news from Deku?”

The mention of his name makes your stomach churn. Truthfully, you haven’t spoken to Izuku, really spoken to him, in weeks. You don’t even remember the last time you existed in the same space together. You clear your throat. You check your phone with a weight in your gut, knowing that there won’t be any messages.You hate that your suspicions are confirmed. “Nothing.”

He’s probably at the same meeting as Bakugou and Kirishimia, along with all the other top heroes.

It is a few hours of tense silence in the office. Both for the fate of which heroes will travel abroad and if your bosses will be part of that departure.

The aforementioned bosses return a few hours later, confirming that they will not be sent away. As part of the top five pro-heroes, they are tasked with staying. “Because some others at the top volunteered to leave. The commission wants to make sure at least some of us are still here holding down the fort,” Kirishima clarifies.

You wring your hands nervously. “What about Deku?” you ask.

Bakugou is noticeably quiet, something you pick up on. “You should go home,” he says instead. Then, he trails off into something softer. “That damn nerd doesn’t know when to stop.”

Your eyes widen, your heart picks up, and you leave. You practically race home to your apartment, to your home.

Izuku is packing when you arrive.

You slam the door. “What the fuck are you doing?”

For a moment, your Izuku peaks through the cracks. He jolts, looking startled and wide-eyed. But when he realizes that it’s you at the door, that facade disappears. You are facing Pro Hero Deku now, the hero who has just volunteered to fly away from here, away from you. “My flight is leaving soon,” he says, returning to packing.

“You’re leaving,” you echo. “Just like that?”

“You saw the news, didn’t you?” he challenges. “Those people need me. I have to help them.”

“Without asking me?”

He pauses. “This isn’t something I need a second opinion on.”

You clench your teeth together, trying to swallow the hurt. You’ve heard the stories from Bakugou about Izuku during the Liberation War - about Izuku barrelling headfirst into tracking down All For One alone, without his classmates or his support system, without regard to himself. His warnings suddenly feel like a lifetime ago. “A second opinion?” you bite. “I’m not a fucking doctor, Izuku, I’m your girlfriend. I thought we were a team. Shouldn’t I have a say in this?”

He throws his clothes on top of the ones he has already folded in. “What is there to say? How do you expect me to stand aside when I have a way of helping these people? How could you understand, when you don’t have the power I do.”

Ouch. You never thought he’d pull that card. Just because you don’t have a flashy quirk doesn’t mean that you don’t want to help people, it doesn’t mean that you don’t care. But your anger turns into sharp words that leave your lips without warning. “Fine,” you snap. “Do whatever the fuck you want. You’re really good at that.”

He glares at you. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know anything!” you protest loudly. “Don’t pretend like you haven’t been home in weeks, because you haven’t been here. Not really, anyways. Did you know this is our first conversation in days? But not just that. You’ve been standing me up, ignoring me for months. I thought we could eventually talk about this when things at work quieted down. But things have quieted down. All the other heroes, all your friends, are having date nights and friend nights. But you aren’t. You still aren’t here with me. You just stay out there, taking one police case after another.”

“You knew what you were doing when we started going out,” Izuku snaps back. It’s like you’ve both been holding back on each other, only waiting until now for the dam to break. “I’m the number one hero now. My quirk comes from All Might, and so do his responsibilities. I can’t always be here.”

It’s all coming out now, you think vaguely to yourself. The anger is overpowering the hurt you should be feeling. “I know that, and I’m not asking you to always be here,” you say sharply. “I’ve always said that I just want you to consider me and care about me. But I can see that something like that is impossible for you to do.”

Stop, your mind whispers. Anyone with eyes could see that Izuku cares. He cares more than anyone else on the planet. That’s why he’s here. That’s why you’re here. That’s why you’re in love with him, and that’s why it hurts so much.

“You’re right,” he finally speaks hollowly. “How can you expect me to neglect my job? Because that job, and the people that need me…” he pauses. “Are more important than what’s here.”

The next words you were planning to say die down in your throat, as you both are left alone in the silence of what you’ve just said to each other. What is there to say after all that?

That’s when the hurt settles in, the insecurities threatening to swallow you alive. You know that you’ve also said some terrible things, but the knowledge that Izuku has confirmed your worst fears renders you mute. That you, for all the love in your heart you hold for the man in front of you, will always see you as second place in his life.

“Fine,” you whisper, refusing to see the empty look in Izuku’s eyes. Not like you can see it anyways with the tears fogging up what’s in front of you. “Go do whatever you want. Save the world just like you always have, Deku. But you should know that if you get on that plane, I’m done. If you get on that plane, it’s over between us.”

You remember to grab your keys off the counter before walking out the door.

You don’t know how far you walk, or for how long. The nighttime bustle ignores your sulking as you continue down the sidewalk. You pass by night clubs, convenience stores, other apartment buildings - but none of those matter. All you know in your heart is that this might be the end of you and Izuku. And the last thing he would remember you saying is that he doesn’t care.

You stop in your tracks. How could you say something like that? Izuku is the number one pro hero because he cares, and he has been a consistent source of comfort in your life because he cares. Was it really okay for you to give him such an ultimatum when you never said you could make him choose between work and you? Maybe you can return back, apologize, and try to talk things out. Perhaps he didn’t mean what he said, just as you didn’t mean what you said.

You run back to the apartment. Had you walked further than you thought? Your lungs burn with air, your legs ache as you run up the stairs, and through the front door. “Izuku?” you call out. “Izuku, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I said those things…”

But the apartment is quiet, empty of Izuku and his immediate belongings. He’s gone.

How could he just leave? Izuku may be petty, but never aggressive when upset. Especially when something as big as this serves as a roadblock to your relationship. Especially when you don’t know when you’ll see him again.

On instrict, your hand goes to your back pocket to check your phone but it’s not there. You pat yourself down a few times, but come up to the same conclusion. No phone. Did you have it with you when you left? You swear you left the office with it in your bag.

Your bag. It was thrown by the door upon first arrival. You tear into it, rummaging through laptop, files, notebook and planners before producing the damn thing. The screen lights up.

9 missed calls from Izuku <3

Izuku <3 (6:03pm): the driver is here. I wish we had more time. I’m sorry for what I said. I’m sorry I have to get on this plane. But people need me. I can’t just stand aside.

Izuku <3 (6:03pm): I hope we can talk soon

The lump comes back and doesn’t leave. It makes the tears come fast and hard, the gasps leave your throat as you throw your phone somewhere faraway before curling up against the door. Because are you not someone he cares about? Don’t you deserve to have help from him?

You bring your knees to your chest, feeling the bitter loneliness stronger than you’ve ever felt before. You always knew that Izuku was a hero above and beyond. The pair of you have been dancing around each other for as long as you’ve known him. You really assumed that things would be alright once feelings were sorted out and Izuku showed up that night all those months ago, promising a commitment to you. But you were naive. Feelings were not enough to enact the selflessness needed to love a hero.

Just before you fall asleep that night, you vaguely remember crawling onto the couch. Your body carries a heavy weight that lots of tears usually bring, along with a sore neck and back. You sit up feeling groggy and tired, immediately searching for your phone. Although the intention is to check the date and time, you still feel disheartened when you notice Izuku has not called or texted since his previous message.

You do, however, have some texts from Bakugou.

boss bakugou (9:46pm): Hey, call me when you get this. I should have told you about the nerd, but thought it was better you hear it from him. Hopefully everything has worked out.

boss bakugou (9:46pm): Or whatever. I don’t give a shit what happens to you two.

boss bakugou (9:46pm): I’m mostly kidding.

boss bakugou (11:02pm): Did Deku leave????

You blink, reading the messages many times over because your tired mind cannot process it normally. You debate reading the message, or just ignoring it and also skipping work while you’re at it.

you (6:34am): he left

Your fingers hover over the keyboard.

you (6:40am): it’s over

You should know that Bakugou would be awake at this time.

boss bakugou (6:42am): Still want to come into work?

A part of you doesn’t want to. But a tiny part of you whispers that you should.

you (6:54am): of course

Despite your reassurance, there is a numbness that comes with hopping into the shower and washing away the messiness of yesterday. Because no matter how long you stand underneath the water, you cannot wash away the words and feelings.

Because was this really the end of you and Izuku? He really did leave, finalizing everything with his choice - picking the world over you. Implying that you aren’t as important as his job and the people who need him is a bold claim. It’s not something one can just make up on the spot and not mean.

Getting dressed is harder than you thought. You have to put some spoons in the refrigerator to help with the puffiness of your eyes. You have to step into your bedroom for the first time since Izuku left to gather some clothes. For some reason, the reality of what exactly you’ve gone through with Izuku doesn’t hit you. It makes you numb, sure, but it feels like these are problems someone else is going through.

Someone who is not you, as you leave your apartment and somehow manage to find your way to the Riot Ground agency.

Kirishima and Bakugou are in the lobby of the building as you enter.

You aren’t going to speak first, and the heroes in front of you seem to know that. “The nerd really left?” Bakugou asks.

You really thought you wouldn’t cry, especially after crying last night and determining that you were fine enough to work. But somehow, external forces bring up the feelings and the lump in your throat returns. You tuck your hair behind your ears, internally cursing as tears start gathering in your eyes. “Well,” you start, unable to help the way your voice catches, the way it breaks. “He made his decision clear last night.”

“Man, he was just like this when we were kids,” Kirishima grumbles. “Always putting others before himself. I just never thought he’d do that to you.” He looks at you. “I’m really sorry. I hope he didn’t say anything stupid. He was going a little crazy during that meeting.”

“He…” you gasp a little under the weight of your tears, hoping that neither Kirishima nor Bakugou will comment on it. “He said… our relationship wasn’t important.” You sniff. “I mean… I also said some mean things. But… I really… didn’t think… he’d leave without saying… goodbye.”

Bakugou wordlessly passes you a tissue while Kirishima guides you down the hall into his office. Neither of them press you for details as you sit in front of Kirishima’s desk, trying to calm down.

“Deku isn’t thinking about himself right now,” Bakugou says quietly once your gasps have died down and the tears have stopped. “When he sees that people need him, and he knows he can help, he’ll self-sabotage himself. That doesn’t excuse what he said, but he likely isn’t thinking clearly.”

You nod slowly, not sure if you’re acknowledging Bakugou’s words or just trying to get a handle on the overall situation. “I don’t know what to do,” you whisper.

Kirishima nods. “It’s a lot to handle. And you don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for.” He shakes his head. “I’m not sure what anyone would do after hearing words like that.”

What would be the next step anyways? A text from Izuku first implies that perhaps moving the conversation along falls onto your shoulders. But what is there to say? Hey Izuku, I know you said this isn’t important to you and you left for another country for an undisclosed amount of time even though I said our relationship was over if you left. Anyways, how’s it going?

So rather than think about it - you wait, wondering if the right moment will ever come.

And you wait.

But you never seem to find the words to say.

Midoriya Izuku is away for a year and a half.

Your phone remains empty of his texts, his calls, or his love for the entire time. But you see him everywhere, especially on the news where the world is praising him for yet another save. Whether it’s digging people out of the rubble, or helping other countries with villain cases, or teaching society how to rebuild their communities after disasters.

He’s in his element. His tinge of sadness is probably the knowledge that he couldn’t save everyone, you think to yourself. Always watching him on your phone, or on your laptop when a breaking news notification comes up.

You’re sure he’s happy with his choice. After all, a year and a half with no contact is quite telling about his decision. Yours too, because you never mustered up the courage to ask how he was doing. You never talk to him.

Yet, you hear about him enough. Not just through the news, but through your boss and colleagues. It’s hard to avoid your pro hero ex-boyfriend when you work in the hero industry and so happen to have two bosses who have known the aforementioned ex-boyfriend since high school.

For the most part, both Kirishima and Bakugou don’t mention Izuku. They keep their opinions to themselves with everyday that goes by. They didn’t say anything when you started showing up to work without the necklace Izuku had given you, when you removed the matching phone charm, or when the couple's picture you had framed on your desk went into the trash.

It’s a line, however, that Bakugou crosses when you give him a box of Izuku’s things - the things he didn’t bring abroad with him like his extra sweaters, books, his favorite All Might mug, and that aforementioned necklace. “Listen,” Bakugou had said. “I know things have been hard for you, having to see that nerd’s face everywhere. But I’m sure it’s been rough for him. Why don’t you give him a call?”

“What is there to say?” you had returned softly.

Bakugou had rolled his eyes. “How about you start with saying sorry? I’m sure he also feels the same.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Would sorry be enough to make up for what you said? Would sorry be enough to make up for what he said? Would that be enough to repair the underlying issues of your relationship?

It’s a quiet year and a half. You move out of that old apartment, into a newer but smaller one. You work, eat, and sleep. You see friends on the weekends and watch dramas on the weekdays. Eventually, you stop watching the news every night. You stop getting notifications about Pro Hero Deku on your phone, which is why it comes as a big surprise when Kirishima approaches your office on a random Friday morning. He leans against the doorframe, folding his arms across his chest.

“He’s coming home.”

Your stomach drops without meaning to. A name doesn’t need to be uttered for you to know who exactly is coming home. You continue typing out your email, doing well to ignore that feeling inside of you. “Is… is that so?”

Kirishima nods, eying you worriedly. “The repair efforts are finally done. Deku refused to return until he knew everyone was okay.”

Of course he would, you observe. “I-I’m glad to hear that,” you muster softly.

Out of the corner of your eye, Kirishima is still watching you. “Ochako and Iida are hosting a welcome back party for him. I wasn’t sure if you’d be interested…”

“Probably not,” you say, eyes not leaving your screen. “But thanks for the invite.”

Kirishima makes a noise. “Hey, I think that Katsuki and I have been as hands-off as possible about you and Izuku - but don’t you think it’s been long enough? Why not just talk about your problems instead of avoiding them?”

You look at him for the first time since he stopped by your office. “I’m not avoiding anything,” you point out. “Midoriya said what he needed to say. I said what I needed to say. Besides,” you look back at your screen. “It happened. He’s moved on. And so have I.”

Kirishima walks until he’s standing right next to you. He leans back against your desk. “You’ve moved on, huh? Even more reason to go, right? That’s what a friend would do, isn’t it? Support your other friend who is returning home after a year?”

“He has plenty of other friends,” you retort. You’re not even sure what you’re typing out anymore, but it’s better than looking at Kirishima. He’s likely disappointed in your decision. “He wouldn’t miss seeing me.”

Your boss makes a noise of protest, but doesn’t say anything. He ends up leaving for an upcoming meeting, saving you the trouble of his further pestering. Not ever seeing Izuku again, you decide, would be the best option.

Unfortunately, life doesn’t turn out that way. Because three weeks after Midoriya Izuku’s alleged return, there is a knock on your door.

And you, expecting a package, opens the door. Your stomach drops. “I-Izu- I… Midoriya!” you choke out, your heart suddenly feels like it is launching itself into the sun. Your stomach doesn’t fare well either. You swear it feels like it’s being wrung dry. Your mouth opens and closes a few times, eyes flying all over him as if trying to make up for the year and half you haven’t seen him in person.

He’s different. His hair is a little shorter. It still has that curly texture at the top, over his forehead, but is that an undercut in the back? Oh dear. Today he is wearing jeans and a sweater with SWEATSHIRT in typed kanji. Well… some things are still the same. His eyes are still that deep forest green color. Today, they are sad. But they are wide, also looking you up and down like he is seeing you for the first time.

“Hi,” you exclaim after realizing neither of you have spoken words for a concerning amount of time. You try to ignore how distant, how light your voice sounds. You eventually manage to close your mouth. “Sorry, I…” Your thoughts are scrambling. “I was expecting a package…”

He seems to have found his voice. “O-oh!” he returns, holding up a box towards you. “That must be this. It was by your door.”

You try hard not to look at him as you reach over. You cradle the package, glad to have something to distract you as you fiddle with the edges. The first time you’re seeing Midoriya in a year and a half, and you are uselessly mute. You do open your mouth, but only to say something stupid. “Seems like the pro hero stuff didn’t work out, if you’re a delivery boy now.”

Midoriya blinks, quiet, and you curse yourself.

You close your eyes for a moment, opening them to look at him. “Sorry, that was stupid to say.”

He tries to smile. But it’s soft, sad, and doesn’t reach his eyes. You hate that you notice right away. “Not at all. C-Can I come in?”

You inhale slowly, tucking the package behind your back as you open the door wider for him. “Sure.” You watch carefully as he enters your apartment. He leaves his shoes on, but lingers at the entrance.

His eyes take in the new apartment. “I like the new place.”

“Thank you,” you say. You place the package on the small table near the door. “Midoriya… what are you doing here?”

He whirls around. “I’m actually here on business. Kacchan asked me to pick up some damage report.”

“Oh!” That was unexpected. It’s hard to tell if it’s unwelcomed or not that Izuku actually has a reason for showing up. It’s also hard to tell if Bakugou was actually too busy to come over himself. But it seems like a waste to ponder on that. “Oh, yes. That. I can grab that for you right now.”

You walk further into the apartment. Midoriya does take his shoes off this time to follow you. “Sorry for just showing up, by the way. I probably should have called you but…”

You start digging through your work backpack. “Why are you apologizing?”

“W-Well,” he stammers. “I know Kacchan sent me here on official business but… I don’t know. I don’t want to make it seem like I’m crossing a boundary or anything. I know Kacchan gave me your address, but still.”

Perhaps he is overstepping. For a moment, memories of his neglect, of your words, flash through your mind. But where you once felt hurt now feels distant and foreign. “Not at all,” you reassure, producing the file and looking up at him. “I mean, we’ve always… been friends, haven’t we?”

If Midoriya is bothered by your question, he doesn’t show it. He smiles again. Yet, once more, it does not reach his eyes. “Yeah. Of course.”

The silence feels like something dangerous. Izuku looks deep in thought, and it makes you panic. So you cover the distance and extend the folder towards him. “Here you go.”

He takes it. “Thanks.” A pause. “So, uh, how have you been?”

You rub your hands, definitely giving away the nerves. “I’m alright. Still working at Riot Ground, which is nice. I actually have to manage people… which is fun, but also nerve-wracking because there’s a team that relies on me to distribute tasks and be on top of everything.”

“Well,” Midoriya starts. “You’ve always been really organized, so I’m sure you’re doing great. Kacchan and Eijirou always have nothing but praise for you.”

You nod in agreement, not really thinking as you open your mouth to continue the conversation. “It’s nice that you kept in touch with them while you were away.”

You shut your mouth but it is too late. The words have already been spoken, and you regret it at once. Why? You were content playing pretend, just as you assume he had been - but now you’ve gone and opened your big mouth. Even worse, you forgot to run your thoughts through that filter in your brain.

Well. Not much you can do about this now. You’ve threatened the fragile peace of pretending, and now there is not much you can do independently. You pause in your movements, refusing to look at Midoriya. Instead, you stare at the wall behind him.

But it seems like you underestimate his kind nature. He doesn’t rise to the bait. From the corner of your eye, you see his nod. “I talked to them occasionally,” he starts softly. He pauses, long enough that you look at him. He’s staring back. “I just wanted to make sure things were alright back home.”

Your eyes widen, lips part. What exactly does he mean by that?

Your silence reads like an open invitation for Midoriya. He steps forward, opening his mouth - !

His phone rings, startling both of you out of whatever trance you were pulled into. You look down, shuffling. Midoriya jerks back, face shuttering before pulling out his phone. “K-Kacchan,” he grumbles.

Noises on the other end of the line. Bakugou, likely reprimanding him for taking too long.

After a moment, he jolts. “A-ah, you’re right! Sorry Kacchan. I got the files, I’ll head back over soon. No! No… there was no trouble. Okay.” He hangs up, looking at you. “That was Kacchan. I, uh, I should go.”

You nod. “Uh, yeah. No problem.”

He moves to make his leave. You follow behind just to see him out, but he turns around before he can leave. “Hey, so. Since I’m back… don’t be a stranger, okay? If you need anything, I’m here.”

Oh, a tiny voice whispers in your heart, fuck. He’s really continuing this game of pretend.

Valid. Izuku has never been good at confrontation. Neither have you, so you give your best attempt at a smile. “Thank you… Midoriya.”

His fingers twitch, but leaves soon after.

Pretending that you were always just friends with Midoriya is strange, but unsurprisingly normal considering your history with him. Now that he’s back home, his unexpected visit to your apartment seemed to enforce something: he’s willing to fake it as much and for as long as you are.

It starts small - hesitant texts he sends sharing something from patrol that remind him of you. Texts that transition into asking about your day, or inquiring about a show you mention. Naturally, you are hesitant to return the effort. But a small part of you, the small part that is soft on him, is elated that he is back and actually wants to talk to you.

“Of course the nerd would still want to be friends,” Bakugou scoffs. “You clearly don’t know your own boyfriend that well.”

“Ex,” you interrupt sharply. “Ex-boyfriend. And sorry I don’t have years of experience handling Midoriya like you do. Usually, when things end badly with an ex, ignoring each other is the bare minimum most people expect.”

“Well,” he snaps back. “You idiot. Deku isn’t like most people.” He quiets down when he sees the guilt on your face. “What are you going to do now? I heard you were invited to Todoroki’s party.”

That is true. Shouto himself extended the invitation to you through a text message you were surprised to get. After all, most of your friendships with the Izuku’s old classmates have slowed down a fair amount post breakup. In general, you’ve never been too big on attending gatherings of any kind. But since you and Izuku have reunited (i.e., you guys are just playing house rather than actually talk), it leaves you (once again) in a gray zone.

You settle with just trying to stay aloof. “I was invited, yeah.”

Bakugou glares at you. “What? You’re suddenly playing coy? You going or not?”

You shrug. “I don’t know!!”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s just a party. It’s not rocket science.” He pauses. “You should go.”

“What are you, my consciousness now?” you retort hotly.

“Okay, fine,” he spits. “Go. Or don’t go. And deal with a paranoid Deku who is stupid sometimes but not stupid enough to know when you’re avoiding him.”

You glare at Bakugou for a little longer, really hating how smart he is in spite of his brashness. You’re not really sure you can handle a confrontation with Midoriya right now, and you know that he’ll try to ask questions if you don’t show up. Especially because you know that he knows that Todoroki invited you himself.

“Fine, fine. I’ll go just for Todoroki,” you say, defeated sigh and all. You pick up your phone to look at the time. It’s 4:30, almost time to leave work for the day. “I’ll go home first to drop my stuff off then head over, I guess.”

“No,” Bakugou snaps, grabbing your work bag from the corner of your office. “I can see your tricks coming from a mile away. I’m not leaving you on the off-chance you’ll go home and pretend to be sick. We’re leaving now.”

“No, wait, BAKUGOU!” you exclaim, frantically trying to shut off your electronic belongings and gather the items on your desk that need to go into that work bag. “This doesn’t even involve you, why do you care so much?”

Bakugou whirls around in the doorframe of your office. “Because if that nerd tries to talk to me about you one more time I will blow his face off. We’re going.”

You try to act as if Bakugou’s words have lit a fire of meekness inside of you as you follow him out of the office. “A-Are you sure we need to leave now?” you fight weakly. “K-Kirishima isn’t even back yet!”

“Shitty Hair is patrolling until later today. He’ll be late,” Bakugou explains, practically shoving you into his car. “Besides, the sooner I get there, the sooner I can leave.”

You huff. “Your intentions are definitely in the right place there, Bakugou.”

He sneers at you, before turning up the radio and leaving the two of you in silence. It’s a bit of a drive to Todoroki’s house. But in Bakugou’s presence, you’ve never felt the need to speak words to fill the space. He’s enjoyed the quiet as much as you. However, today the quiet fills your mind with questions. Was it really okay for you to be at this party? Would your presence make things awkward? Was Midoriya going to be there?

Bakugou pulls up to Todoroki’s house soon, located in a quiet wealthy neighborhood away from the city. Despite the wealth that you feel in the air, Todoroki’s house is rather discreet and combines modern architecture with a traditional style. It’s beautiful - you’re simultaneously flabbergasted and impressed by how rich Shouto Todoroki is. With the high bamboo and trees, you almost don’t notice a gate on the property, unlocked by a code that Bakugou knows by heart. There’s a sizable driveway, filled with a few cars and a familiar figure that makes your heart both sing and drop.

Midoriya is in what you assume to be his car, scrolling through his phone. His gaze lifts when he sees you and Bakugou pulling up. For a brief second, his eyes widen when looking at you. But by the time Bakugou parks and you’re hauling yourself out of the car, that glint in his eyes is gone. He’s also out of his car as well, walking over to meet you halfway.

You immediately write that previous look off as nothing. Instead, you smile and wave as you approach Midoriya. “Hi Midoriya, did you just arrive?”

He smiles over at you. “Yeah. I was just answering a couple emails before you guys arrived.” He glances over at Bakugou with a look that is surprisingly… pensive? “Hi Kacchan.”

Bakugou grunts in greeting as he immediately starts making his way to Todoroki’s house.

You cast one last look at Midoriya, who is already looking at you. Feeling the awkwardness start settling in, you turn and follow after Bakugou.

There are more people at the party than you originally thought as Todoroki opens the door to greet you. You weren’t sure what to assume, only knowing that Shouto Todoroki is a relatively private person - but there is his entire class from the UA hero course and people you can only assume to be his family. Additionally, there are people you recognize from his agency - sidekicks and his manager, who (thankfully) you know.

Besides that, you are completely on the outside.

Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea.

Still, Bakugou’s warning about Deku is too prevalent to back away from. Besides, you think bitterly, you yourself had said it best to Midoriya. You’re friends.

You see Midoriya entering the house right behind you, and immediately make a beeline down the hallway. In your mind, the excuse is that you need to use the restroom. But asking Todoroki himself would subtract the ten minutes you’re banking on to find it. You’re not sure how long you’re going to be at this party. But every minute away from an unfamiliar crowd would be best.

You do manage to find a bathroom at the end of the hallway, telling yourself that no one is out there wondering where you are as you fix up your appearance in the mirror.

When you open the door, Mina is on the other side. She appears to be looking for something, until she sees you and you realize she’s looking for someone. For you.

She exclaims your name, bounding towards you. “I thought I saw you!!”

You shouldn’t be surprised that Mina is here, but your heart feels a little lighter knowing that you know another person. While dating Midoriya, you’ve had a few lunches or general hangouts with his old classmates. Everyone was always very friendly in that ‘this is my friend’s girlfriend’ type of way. From your memory, Mina was the someone who treated you more like a friend rather than Midoriya’s girlfriend.

“H-Hi Mina,” you manage, trying for a small smile. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” she says, mirroring your smile. “How about you? I… heard what happened.”

“O-Oh really,” you reply, going stiff.

“Yeah, from Izuku. I didn’t know right away that you guys had… broken up,” Mina explains. “I was also sent overseas after that big earthquake. But I’m sure it must have been challenging. Frankly, Izuku is an idiot for what he did!”

You soften slightly. “Well… I wouldn’t say he’s an idiot. I think he just had to do what he thought was best.”

Mina smiles. “You’ve always been so nice and understanding. I’m glad to see that you’re doing well though! We should celebrate that.”

You blink. “What do you mean?”

“By letting me get you a drink, of course,” she exclaims, taking your wrist and dragging you back down the hallway. You catch Midoriya’s wandering gaze, but ignore him in favor of Mina taking you to the kitchen. She boasts about the soju and sake that Todoroki let her bring before the pair of you take a couple shots together. It leaves you warm, fuzzy, giggly, and prone to wandering around.

Eventually, as Mina gets caught up in her own group of friends, you find yourself in the backyard of Todoroki’s house - the shishi-odoshi hitting the rock and bamboo echoing in the quiet night, the sound of your shoes crunching against the sand underneath your shoes. Todoroki has a little bamboo garden in the corner, fixed with a bench and other flowers whose color reflects off light from the house.

Still cradling the mix Mina had poured for you, you take a seat on the bench.

It feels like you’re sitting there for hours before you hear shoes crunching against the sand. You jolt, whirling in your seat and heart dropping when you see that it’s Midoriya himself making his way towards you.

“M-Midoriya,” you stammer, tearing your gaze away first and staring down at your drink. “Did the party get overwhelming for you too?”

He’s quiet as he takes a seat next to you. “Sort of,” he answers vaguely. “I also noticed that you weren’t with Mina anymore. I guess, I just wanted to see where you were.”

You look at him. “You… knew I was hanging out with Mina?”

He looks back at you. “Of course. I remember that you guys would talk whenever you hung out with my friends. Did you have a good time with her?”

“Y-Yeah, we were just catching up,” you return, laughing softly. “I know it may look like it, but I wasn’t avoiding you or anything.”

“You sure?” Midoriya asks. “Because it felt like every time I tried to look at you, maybe get a hello in or something, you would look away or run away.”

Your hands suddenly feel wet and nervous. “M-Midoriya…”

He sighs. “And that’s another thing. You don’t call me Izuku anymore.” He looks sad again. “I thought we were friends. But you call me by my last name and you avoid me and you…” he trails off, seeming to try and hype himself up for something. “Are you with Kacchan?”

You blink, taken aback. “Am I what?”

He gets nervous again. “Are you… dating Kacchan?”

“No,” you reply dryly. “I’m not with Bakugou. He just drove us straight from the office. You of all people should know that I wouldn’t date my boss…” you cut yourself off, looking back down and frantically trying to figure out a way to end this conversation. “You know,” you say, just speaking words at this point. “You don’t need to be out here keeping me company. I’m sure your hero friends are more important than this,” you try to joke, but it comes out more serious than you were hoping. Your drunken words seem to unveil something unconscious inside of you that you thought you’d move on from. Goddamnit.

Midoriya doesn’t say anything, as the reality of what you’ve said sinks in. You really hadn’t meant for it to come out that way. But here you are: drunk, cold, hurt, and feeling stupid.

So you laugh, a hollow sound. “Wow, how much alcohol did Mina put into this? I better go find her and ask because this shouldn’t be allowed…” You’re standing up from the bench, leaving your drink behind, those internal red lights telling you to run despite your outward attempts to look composed.

In fact, you are about to run because it’s just too awkward. But Midoriya calls your name, softly. And you, always drawn to him, just have to look back.

He stands, slowly walking towards you. “I don’t know why I said those things. But I’ve always felt awful. I just never had the guts to apologize earlier.”

You wring your hands. Was he really taking the bait now? He must have been drinking too. But his gaze is clear enough to tell you he’s taking this seriously, and you’re too scared to run away. So you speak quietly. “I know why you said that. And you do too. It’s because you love your job. You can say that you’re sorry but I’ve always felt like you put everyone else’s needs before mine or yours. So… don’t say you’re sorry. Not if you don’t mean it.”

He’s quiet long enough that you turn around, about to return inside before Midoriya speaks again. “I was being selfish,” he announces, reflective enough to stop you. You turn around. He walks right up to you. “I thought about you everyday while I was gone. Hero work has always been important to me, yes, but you are my dream. You’re who I want to be with, who I want to love. I was stupid to take advantage of that.”

Your lips part, a sensation filling your body. Is it relief? Perhaps, anxiety?

You don’t pull away when his hand reaches out, waiting a moment as if expecting you to pull away. When you do not, he gently cups both your cheek, a movement so soft and warm that your heart melts a little.

But… it doesn’t feel like enough. His touch alone cannot heal the wound you’ve unknowingly covered for a year and a half. Without meaning to, your eyes water. “What… What do you want, Midoriya?”

He exhales softly, brushing a thumb along your cheek. “I just want to be with you.”

That makes the breath catch in your throat, making you realize you are actually torn between that relief and anxiety. Relief that he feels the same. But anxiety because you don’t know if that is enough. “I feel like I’ve waited for you my whole life. But I don’t know if I can believe you.”

His face falls as his eyebrows furrow and he closes his eyes. He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. He breathes you in, breathes out. “I know,” he whispers. “After all that, I don’t know if I’d believe me either.”

His eyes look disheartened and full of guilt. So much so that you cannot help but gently touch his nose with your own. “I’m not entirely innocent either. I said some mean things to you that night too, and I’m sorry. I should never have said you don’t care - that was wrong of me.”

He pulls away a little, but his hands are still on your cheek. Still sad but a little bit of hope glimmers. “No, you weren’t wrong for saying that. Once things calmed down overseas, Kacchan called me and gave me a lot of shit for what I said to you. I should have stayed, or talked things over with you. I’m sorry.”

You inhale soft, feeling a weight lift off your chest and no longer feeling like you have to make a run for it. “It’s okay.” You smile a little. “I know I just said I’d have trouble believing you. But… I do believe that.”

He laughs a little, more like a tiny exhale. His eyes are carefully watching your face now. “I’m glad.”

Well, you think to yourself, now that everything's out in the open, it’s probably time to ask the important question. “What does this mean for us?”

He hums softly, hands leaving your cheeks. But he does not pull away, likely trying to enjoy this moment as you are. His hands travel down to your waist, keeping you close. “I didn’t say all those things hoping we could try being together again. But I do want to say that…” he thumbs at the skin of your hip, always needing to be touching you. “I’m here. Really. I want to be here for you and for however long it takes you to believe me again.”

Your gaze flickers between his eyes, feeling the sincerity of his confession. “Thank you,” you reply softly. “I want to believe you again, and I want us to work together on that. I just think we need more time.”

It’s neither a full rejection nor a full commitment - but enough where Midoriya grins brightly. “I’ll give you all the time in the world.”

Honestly? At first, you think Midoriya is full of shit. Not in a bad way. Just in a tentative ‘is he really going to follow through’ perspective. You’ve always believed in Midoriya as a person. But considering the history, the daily ins and outs have required a little more work.

Midoriya had been away for a year and a half. You may not know his favorite food anymore or his favorite movie or his favorite song to fall asleep to. But something you haven’t forgotten about him is that Midoriya always tries.

Texts become more frequent, as Midoriya grows more eager to repair that bridge between the two of you. Surface level questions about your day turn back into similar text conversations of how things were when you were dating. He still enjoys checking up on you, asking about your day, and recalling memories that actually make you smile whilst reading them. Despite his behavior, he never actually pushes questions about your relationship.

He trusts you to communicate, just as you start to trust him once more with your thoughts, feelings, and insecurities. You go from pretending to be alright with Midoriya to actually being alright with Midoriya. And it doesn’t fill you with doubt. It leaves you content, happy to be where you are with him.

It comes to a headway about six months after Midoriya returns home - and you get injured at work.

It’s nothing serious. You sprain your ankle after missing a step going down the stairs at the office. Most of the heroes you could have called were out fighting some big villain on the other side of town, so the agency itself was empty of any heroes or sidekicks. Hence, your friend from finance drives you to the hospital. A couple hours of waiting, and you are admitted and immediately given ice packs, a pillow for leg elevation, and a recommendation from the doctor to get an x-ray scan to ensure no broken bones.

You decide to give Kirishimia a call after your x-ray, reassured by the doctor that the turnaround time for the results would take a little over an hour.

You almost regret trying to give him a call, considering what he was doing at the moment, but are surprised to hear him pick up the phone on the last ring. He calls your name, confused. “What’s going on? Is everything okay? I’m still caught up in the fight. More support has arrived so I think it’s wrapping up soon. Luckily we’ve been able to contain the damage but the first aid station is packed right now.”

“Eijiro, I just wanted to let you know that I’m at the hospital. But I’m okay.”

“What? The hospital? What happened? Is everything okay?” Kirishimia calls. “Do you need me to head over there?” A pause. “The police just arrived so I really do thing the fight will be over soon. Not every hero has to be present for the paperwork. I can come over right away.”

“No, don’t,” you say. “I’m fine, it’s just a sprain. I already did the x-ray scan and am waiting to make sure nothing is broken.” You smile. “It’s alright, Eijiro. Focus on what’s more important - protecting the people.”

Kirishima makes a tiny noise of protest, but seems to find some validity to your point. He is needed much more where he is. “Okay, fine. But call me when you hear the results.”

You nod. “I will, thank you.”

He hangs up, leaving you in the silence of the emergency room ward in a bed surrounded by a curtain. The waiting is long, leaving you with only your phone to occupy you. You watch some of the tailend of the big villain fight. Luckily, the damage was limited to just one of the skyscrapers due to all the heroes that rushed onto the scene. You catch sight of some familiar faces, of this echo of green lightning and immediately jump to thoughts about Midoriya. How was he doing? You hope he’s doing alright. He’s supposed to come over tonight, so perhaps you can ask him how he’s doing then. That is, if you’re able to be released from the hospital in time.

You’re about to take a quick nap before you hear the doors to the emergency room fly open. At first, you assume it’s a patient since you are, after all, in the emergency wing. But then someone is exclaiming, “Mr. Deku, please calm down! If you just tell me who you’re looking for, I can tell you where they are. Please don’t disturb the other patients!”

Deku’s name feels like a bolt of electricity running through you as you push yourself up to your forearms, trying hard not to apply pressure to your ankle as your eyes train themselves on the edge of the drawn privacy curtain.

Suddenly, Midoriya appears, wide and imploring eyes that immediately zero in on you with laser sharp focus.

“Midoriya!” you exclaim. “What-?”

“Are you okay?” he asks, quickly walking over to stand next to you. Without warning, he takes your face in his hands. Eyes search your face, likely searching for any signs of anything physically or emotionally out of the ordinary. “What happened? Where did this happen? Who took you here? Did you drive here yourself?”

“Midoriya,” you say carefully, firmly, watching the way he closes his mouth to let him speak. “I’m okay. I just hurt my ankle at the agency. H-How did you know I was here?”

He sighs, releasing his hold on your face. But he moves down to your hand. “Kirishima told me. And… it’s like with anything I do. My body moved on its own and suddenly I was running here.”

You frown up at him. “But weren’t you in the middle of a villain fight? You just left?”

His thumb is rubbing your hand. He shrugs. “We had a lot of help. The damage was at a minimum and things were wrapping up anyways.”

You look down, still lost. “But you love finishing up cases. You love reassuring people and always needing to make sure that other people are okay.”

His movement ceases, a time of silence he takes to kneel next to your bed. “Hey, look at me,” he says softly. You, helpless, look at him. “I know I was really bad at expressing this back when we were together. But I need you to know that you’re part of those people too. Not just that, but you’re the person I want to reassure the most and the person I need to make sure is the most okay. I’m sorry if you were thrown off by my arrival.”

“No, not at all,” you reassure quickly, tightening your hold on his hand. “I was surprised, but in a good way.”

He brightens at that, straightening up and kissing your forehead. “Okay. And I’m glad to see that you’re okay. Are they going to release you soon?”

You nod. “I think so. I got an x-ray, so a doctor will be giving me the report soon. They just want to make sure that nothing is broken.”

Midoriya brings your hand to his chest. “Can I wait here with you?”

You give him a private smile. “I’d like that.”

So Midoriya sits on the bed with you. Neither of you talk about his confession or what it means for the both of you. You just sit and joke around like no time has passed. He’ll occasionally fuss over your ankle, but it doesn’t last long. The doctor comes around and confirms no broken bones. He follows it up with strict orders to rest for the next four to six weeks before allowing you to leave.

The doctor comments about how nice it is for your boyfriend to take time off from heroing to see you off. You smile, hold Midoriya’s hand, and try to sort through the butterflies in your stomach.

Four to six weeks later, you take the subway to Midoriya’s neighborhood. His house is a place you’ve been to once, solely for work purposes so you still have the address on your phone. To be honest, you’re not even sure if Midoriya is home in the middle of the day. It’s Sunday, his new day off (or so he’s told you), so you imagine that he’s likely home resting. You hope so anyways.

Well, only one way to find out. You knock on the door with one hand, using the other to balance the tray of breads and desserts you’ve just picked up from that expensive bakery in the city. If he isn’t home, you might just have to leave it on the front steps…

The door swings open, revealing Midoriya in his casual attire of jeans and a shirt that says SUNDAY on the front.

You make it a point not to stare at the shirt in favor of looking at Midoriya’s frantic look. “Hi,” you greet cheerfully, holding up the box of pastries. “I wanted to bring you something.”

“Baby, what are you doing?” he asks, dragging you in by the waist. “You just got out of the hospital, you shouldn’t be walking right now!” He’s pouting cutely. He’s been more generous with his touches and nicknames since your return to the hospital, and it’s put you on a hopeful high where maybe… perhaps… he’s down to go out and give this another shot.

“I’m fine, Izuku,” you say mindlessly, not trying to fight your way out of his hold. You just hold up that box of pastries. “I was on strict house arrest orders from my boss and got daily visits from a certain someone so not only am I very well-rested, I am antsy. I’m not allowed back at work so it’s only right that I get a little bit of exercise. And I know how much you love this bakery and… are you okay?”

You stop because Midoriya is looking at you with that soft smile on his face - the same kind of smile he’d wear before telling you something important.

“No, it’s nothing,” Midoriya brushes off. He just takes the box from you and rests it on the table near his door. “You just called me Izuku.”

A little bit of your cheerful disposition from before vaporizes. “Oh. Um, yes… I did.” You gaze up at him. You were speaking a little too freely. Even though you and Midoriya are in a really good spot, there are still some things that haven’t been firmly established yet. Like, for example, what the specific label of your relationship was. “Is that too much? It sort of just slipped out, I’m sorry…”

“No, don’t apologize,” he says hastily, wrapping his arms back around you. “I guess with what happened between us and your trip to the hospital… things have just been feeling different.”

“They have!” you say, a little relieved. So his question wasn’t for disappointment, it was just curiosity. Again, you’ve underestimated his kindness and his love for you. But you refuse to back down again. “I… actually came here for another reason.”

His gaze is still trained on you.

You keep your head up. “I’m here to ask you out.”

Midoriya tilts his head, not fully understanding. “You wanna get lunch?”

“No, no, I meant… like, I want to go out with you. Date you. Try being your girlfriend again.”

His eyes widen, bringing you closer to him. “Are you serious? You… you want to try dating? You… believe in me now?”

His words from Todoroki’s party flash in your mind: I just want to be with you.

You nod. “I really believe in the things you’ve been doing to balance your life out more. I know you’re doing those things for yourself, and seeing you make the choice to take a day off or seeing me at the hospital made me happy. It makes me want to try being with you again, knowing that we’ve grown enough to put in our best effort.”

Midoriya smiles at that, big and bright as he cups your cheeks. “I promise you that I’ll never make you regret this.” And you, filled with so much love and hope for this, kiss him. He kisses you back, firm, simultaneously scooping you up in his arms.

You gasp out against his mouth, that shock turning into a fit of giggle. “Izuku, what are you doing?”

“I’m protecting your ankle!” he points out playfully. “Want to come down?”

You pretend to contemplate. He’s lifting you up so easily. “Hmm, actually no. Maybe I’ll just stay here and let you lead the way.”

He leans up towards you, signaling what he wants next. You indulge him easily, leaning down halfway to press your forehead against his. He closes his eyes, breathes you in. “I definitely intend to,” he says.

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #mha writing #bnha writing #mha smut #bnha smut #mha fluff #bnha fluff #midoriya imagine #midoriya fluff #midoriya smut #midoriya izuku fluff #midoriya izuku smut #traci writes for mha

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waynes-multiverse · 8 months ago

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Rehab – Chapter 6

Series Summary: Thanks to Soldier Boy, the CIA was able to develop Project Bloom under the fierce leadership of Grace Mallory: a final cure to Compound V and a hopeful end to the supe epidemic three years after the explosive incident at Vought. A secret rehab facility in Upstate New York is supposed to help former heroes find their way back to humanity. The catch, though? Soldier Boy has never fucking agreed to any of this shit and is surely not happy about being powerless for the first time in his goddamn long life.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, language, nudity/smut, a dash of fluff, a huge cup of angst & hurt

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: This one reeks of drama, guys! I feel like I just came back to get yelled at... Welp, let the screaming begin! 😂

Feedback is my fuel 🖤

<< Chapter 5 || Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Chapter 6: bad things

“No, no, no! Don’t shoot him! He did nothing wrong!”

The desperate exclamation rings in Ben’s ears, loops through his mind in circles. His muscles freeze, don’t dare to move or even twitch. His breathing stills; his heart pounds like it never has before. A violent thunderstorm in his chest. It’s so loud he almost forgets he’s not bulletproof anymore as he stares down the barrels of three guns. Then he remembers neither is Y/N.

She’s not his goddamn shield. She could get hurt, and the thought causes the blood in his veins to jitter. He can’t lose her.

His feet begin to move and shuffle in front of her, pushing her gently behind his shoulder. Y/N slots behind him and firmly takes his hand. He can feel her eyes on him, but with one brave swallow, Ben just faces the threat and concentrates on the problem in front of him, ignoring his wildly beating heart.

“Y/N, what the fuck happened here?” Derek prompts, brow creased in stern confusion before his eyes land on the lifeless human body by their feet. “Is he–” The nurse doesn’t finish the question, just stares some more at the corpse on the ground, trying to piece the puzzle together as he waves the gun in front of Ben’s face, which causes some general uneasiness in his gut. Fear of dying is an entirely new concept to the former supe, to say the least.

“Uh-huh, yeah, pretty sure,” Y/N confirms and swallows harshly, unnoticeably squeezing Ben’s hand. “I-I killed him.”

“You? Really?” Derek cocks an eyebrow in clear disbelief while Ben’s heart jumps wildly in his chest. He can hardly believe it either that she’d take the fall for him. Who in their right mind would do such a thing? “Is that what I’m gonna find on the security camera footage?” the nurse questions further.

“Shit,” Y/N curses, and it almost sounds like a damn sneeze by the sheer force of it. “Forgot about that…”

Ben’s green eyes wander up to the ceiling, finding several cameras resting peacefully above, tucked away in dark corners like spiderwebs. How has he never noticed them before? Have they really been there all this time?

“Okay, fine,” Y/N admits with a frustrated sigh as her defense crumbles like an unstable house of cards around her. “But what you are gonna see on that footage is Colt assaulting me, alright? He tried to rape me. Ben just came in time. He fucking saved me.”

He fucking saved me.

Ben stares at her as if he can’t quite believe it himself before witnessing the first dark purple bruise form on her upper arm. That bastard. Then anger boils in his chest once more, swapping over the edge of the pot into his throat. He’d kill the guy who dared to hurt her all over again. No regrets.

“Did you really have to kill him? Couldn’t just knock him out and let us fucking handle the rest, huh?” Derek barks with a brow of annoyance this time.

“Got carried away,” Ben mutters in defense and clears his throat, locking his jaw tight.

“Carried away, hm? Typical,” the nurse spits, unamused and impatient. “Powers or not, you fucking supes think you can do whatever the fuck you want. Never care about collateral damage or anyone else. It’s always about you. News flash, buddy – in the real world, we just don’t go around and fucking kill people!”

Ben shares a quick look with Y/N and licks his lips, swallowing thickly. What is the best course of action here? The nurse seems pissed, and he guesses threats won’t help, least of all empty ones. Thinking back to therapy, one idea suddenly pops into his mind.

“Look, I’m-, uh, I’m sorry,” Ben admits, albeit it’s a lie to keep him alive. Again, no regrets. But Dr. Morgan’s ‘an apology goes a long way’ rattles through his head, even though he’s aware people never truly forgive. And as he learned a long time ago, every good lie always contains an ounce of truth. That’s what ultimately sells it as believable. “I lost control for a second. I-, uh… I didn’t like seeing her get hurt by that fucking dick, alright?”

Derek’s eyes fix on Y/N, keeping contact for what feels like a goddamn eternity. Are the two of them holding a silent conversation? But Ben knows they’re friends, and judging by the nurse’s look of concern, he doesn’t approve of Y/N getting hurt either. As much as the staff seems to hate him, everyone loves Y/N here, which ultimately might be his saving grace. It’s all about checks and balances in life.

And then, with a somewhat irritated eye roll, the nurse lowers his gun and gestures for his colleagues to do the same. Sighs of relief leave both Y/N and Ben as the tension disappears with the immediate death threat, their shoulders falling.

“You guys can go,” Derek tells his companions. “I’ll handle it.”

The two other nurses nod in unison and vanish down the corridor again, probably to resume their earlier posts. Ben’s still not sure if they aren’t actually CIA and the medical training is just a sham like everything else in this rehab center. He’s slowly starting to catch on.

“You know I have to report this back to Mallory,” Derek announces then, drawing the attention back to him.

“Please, you can’t do that. You know what will happen then. They hate him,” Y/N reasons, and Ben tries not to be offended by her honesty. Truthfully, he’s pretty sure as well that he ain’t the government’s favorite person on this planet.

“Just out of curiosity… what exactly will happen then?” Ben dares to ask, although he can take a good guess. Still, he’d like to have all his facts straight before pondering his next move.

“Chair,” Derek shoots straight without missing a beat, not an ounce of sympathy gleaming in his eyes.

“Or lethal injection if they feel gracious,” Y/N murmurs bitterly.

Yup, Ben guessed correctly.

“But he didn’t do anything wrong. He doesn’t deserve to get punished for it,” Y/N insists. It warms his cryo-frozen heart that she’s fighting for him. Has anyone ever done that before? He can’t remember, but it certainly feels good. “If Mallory finds out, she’s gonna use it as an excuse to get rid of him. God knows she’s been waiting for that chance probably since he got here.”

“And what the fuck do you want me to do about it?” Derek twitches his shoulders high.

“Lie,” Y/N suggests bluntly. “Just tell her I killed the guy after he attacked me and delete the footage. She won’t care if it was me. Hell, she never cared enough before when someone died. She won’t care now either.”

“She might if she finds out he was involved,” Derek counters and motions to the ancient superhero.

“Well, as far as you’re concerned, he was never here, alright?” Y/N asserts and stubbornly folds her arms over her chest to make her stance clear. She won’t budge. She’s a headstrong one, after all.

Derek seems to know that fact as well and heaves an exhaustive sigh. Another eye roll follows. “Fine,” he grits. “I’ll deal with the body. Clean him up,” the nurse orders grimly and then stomps down the hallway.

Returning with a first-aid kit, Y/N closes the door of her room behind her, finding the fallen supe and former hero sitting idly on the edge of her bed.

He’s twisting and playing with his thumb in his lap before one finger reaches for the split bottom lip and collects a drop of blood on it. He hisses and then frowns at the scarlet red stain on his pad, the tip of his tongue darting out to lick at the wound and surely being able to taste the iron. Fascinated with what his green eyes find, his fingers continue to play with the injury, although it seems to burn, judging by the various flinches of his facial muscles.

“Feels weird, huh?” Y/N joins him with an amused smile, settling down next to him on the mattress. His eyes land on her as he rests his hands back into his lap and watches as she dabs some disinfectant on a cotton ball.

“A little,” Ben admits sheepishly and winces when the rubbing alcohol connects with his open wound. He tries to swat her hand away, but Y/N remains stubborn and unbothered by his action.

“Hold still and stop being a baby,” she orders him, giggling. “Accepting medical help doesn’t turn you into a girl.”

“I’m not a–… Fine.” Ben sighs his defeat and allows her to patch him up. Admittedly, it feels kind of nice to be cared for, especially by the girl he likes – a soldier and his nurse. He determines he can live with that mental image.

Once his lip stops the bleed, she proceeds to wrap an ice pack in a clean dish towel and holds it up to the left side of his face.

He huffs. “I don’t need that fucking shit.”

“Your black eye heavily disagrees with you there, stud.” Y/N giggles, a teasing smile playing on her lips as if she finds the whole torture damn amusing.

Ben pops an eyebrow in bewilderment. “I’ve got a black eye?”

“Yep, big one, too,” she confirms and gently brushes a few strands of sandy blond locks out of his face. She then grabs a small handheld mirror from her bedside table and holds it up for him.

Gobsmacked, he studies his face, pinches and squeezes the skin between his fingers, and causes deep wrinkles in his brow like someone who’s stuck in the wrong body. Freaky Friday.

“Fuck me.” He gasps in fascination and snorts. “I’ll be damned...”

Y/N grins, amused. “You look like you’ve been in a real fight, champ. First one?”

“In this century, yeah.” Ben chuckles softly, nodding. “First one was in my sophomore year, 1934.”

“Wow.” Y/N whistles lowly and laughs. “Sometimes I forget how old you truly are. Lemme guess, you got into a fight over a girl?”

Ben smirks widely. “Now, how did you know?”

“Seems to be a common theme for you,” Y/N muses and chews on her lower lip, her cheeks heating up even in the darkness of the room. Lowering the ice pack from his face, her fingertips gently trace the swelling. His skin feels sufficiently cold to the touch. “That should help for now,” she determines and sends him a smile. “Thanks for saving me. You might not have been a true hero back in the day, but you certainly were mine tonight.”

Ben swallows hard at that and wets his lips, head bobbing in pensive rhythm as he averts his gaze to the fluffy rug under his bare feet. “Well… Wouldn’t have been necessary. It was my goddamn fault, after all. If I hadn’t–… Well, I-I guess what I’m trying to say is… I shoulda known better. I’m sorry, Y/N. Honestly. I’m truly sorry.”

Y/N nods quietly next to him, accepting his admission of guilt and the included apology. Truthfully, she thought the day would never come that the Soldier Boy who slumbers deep inside of him would ever admit to any wrongdoing, but she knows better than letting her surprise show. “Why did you provoke him?”

Ben presses his lips tightly together and shakes his head, his Adam’s apple bobbing harshly with the words he’s swallowing down as he refuses to answer. Y/N’s hand reaches out and settles on his shoulder blade, tenderly caressing his back. Ben grabs it and kisses her knuckles apologetically. “I suppose monsters can’t escape the skin they’re in. I’m a fucking asshole. There’s not much more to it.”

“Yeah, true. You can be a real asshole,” Y/N agrees with a laugh, playfully teasing him. He meets her gaze with a raised look, hoping there’s more to her statement, though. “But you’re also a lot of other things, too,” she adds finally.

Ben swallows, keeping his green eyes fixed on her with a gleam of curiosity. “Like what? Mind naming a few ‘cause I don’t really know who I am. Not anymore.”

Y/N bobs her head and rests her chin on top of his broad shoulder, offering him a smile while her fingers brush through his soft hair. “I do. I know who you are.”

“Yeah?” Ben finds her eyes and cocks an eyebrow. “Could you by any chance enlighten me as well? Help a fella out here, huh.”

“Well, for starters… You’re an incredibly bad singer. Like, really, really, really awful. Disastrously lousy,” Y/N teases him, to which Ben rolls his eyes and pouts his lips, which hide a smile behind it. “Most of all, I honestly wish you’d stop singing that damn Cass Elliot song.”

“It’s an awesome song! Your generation just doesn’t know how to appreciate great music anymore,” Ben grumbles defensively. “This is truly the reason why the world’s going to shit…”

“Oh, we do, old man. I’m all for the classics – just as long as you’re not singing them.” Y/N laughs and presses a soothing kiss to his cheek to balance her criticism. “But you’re funny. I’ll give you that.”

His face lights up at her words like a kid’s on Christmas morning, the pout disappearing. “Yeah? You know Bob Newhart once wanted me to perform with him,” he boasts.

“Oh, I bet he did,” Y/N replies with a smile and doesn’t let him catch on to her little act. “You’d probably would’ve stolen the show. You’re hilarious.“

His cheeks blush at her words, and he subtly tries to get rid of the sudden fluster by clearing his throat. “So, uh, what else?”

“You’re a great lover.” Y/N smirks, and he matches it. “Fantastic, truly. You rock my world like no one else does.”

“Yeah? I mean… damn right, I do.” Ben grins widely, his large palm running up her thigh and squeezing the flesh as he cheekily wiggles his eyebrows. “And I guess you’re easy to please, sweetheart,” he adds and shrugs her compliment off with feigned coolness, but his impossibly reddening cheeks give away his true feelings on the subject.

Y/N then swallows, looking into his juniper eyes. “You’re also a very caring man,” she admits and catches the surprise in his orbs. “If you want to be… sometimes… under certain circumstances…”

Ben snorts, chuckling. “Okay, got it.”

“You really are my hero,” Y/N repeats her earlier sentiment then, and before she can overthink and change her mind again, she leans closer and presses her lips against his, catching him off guard. Her heart jolts out of her chest.

A moment ticks away on the clock.

Ben counts each second until he reaches eleven, surprised his brain even works that well with all the fireworks exploding in his ribcage. He cherishes every second, too scared to fully kiss her back in case it scares her away.

Still, she draws back all on her own and retreats, a breathless smile dancing across her moonlit features. The tip of her nose nudges his as she rests her forehead on his, encouraging him to go on.

“You sure?” Ben checks. She nods with eagerness, and like lightning, his palms cup her cheeks like a treasured pearl, fingertips tracing the outline of her mouth. His lips crash against hers like a stormy wave hitting a rocky cliff – violent, ambitious, and wild.

His lungs wring for oxygen as he swallows and sucks her plush bottom lip between his. She opens her mouth wider for him, allows his tongue to slip inside and taste her. He savors every drop like a parched man finding water in the desert.

His hands roam. One lands on the back of her neck, the other on her waist. He pulls till she falls into his lap and straddles his legs as he explores her warm cavity with his wet lips and his thick tongue, ignoring the stings his wound causes. She’s salt, but the urge to keep kissing her, devouring her, is stronger than any pain that surges through his body.

Then, he stops and swallows the biggest lump of a lifetime, swallows like he’s never swallowed anything before. He takes a deep breath and says, close to a whisper, “I love you, Y/N. I really do.”

Y/N makes him feel happy, makes him feel like a kid again, like flying could be possible. Like everything could be possible. Maybe he could prove himself to the CIA and Mallory. He’s done great on his outings so far. No body count or outbursts. Maybe the two of them could get out of the clinic together. Maybe they could have a future together, after all. Things can change. He could change.

Ben smiles from ear to ear, his heart full of love. A love that’s visible in every crease on his face and tangible in every bone of his body.

“Ben…”

His happy smile fades like a ghost and joins the dead as he witnesses the rainbow of sheer horror and regret spreading on Y/N’s face. He pushed the wrong button, and now it’s all going nuclear.

“I think you should go,” she says quietly and averts her gaze.

“Go?” Ben’s brow furrows as he scoffs, nostrils flaring with a mix of anger and disbelief. “You’re not gonna say it back, even though–“

“Even though what, Ben?!” she snaps. “Even though I told you a thousand times what this was? Even though you knew we’d never be more?”

“But–“

“No! No buts!” Y/N’s voice is louder now as it fills with anger. She jumps up from the bed and starts pacing the room. Her throat closes. Her heart pounds a million beats. It suddenly feels like some supe sucked all the air out of the room, and now there’s no oxygen left to breathe. Desperately, she runs a hand through her hair and looks at Ben. “You don’t even know what love is. Let’s face it – the only person you ever loved was you and only you.”

Ben clicks his tongue and rubs a palm through his beard. Then, he rises from the bed and walks to the door. He knows when he’s not wanted. He knows when it’s time to leave. And yet, he still tries. If anything, he’s always been a fighter, even when the world didn’t appreciate it.

Resting his hand on the doorknob, Ben takes one last deep breath and glances back at Y/N. “You sure you can’t love me? Not even a little?”

He knows the answer, knows what the truth really is. He’s unlovable. Maybe he’s also a masochist and takes pleasure in torturing himself. Or maybe he’s simply a hopeless romantic – old-school.

Y/N sighs and shakes her head, her voice bitter. “No. I don’t love you. No one can.”

Ben’s fought battles, other superheroes, parents, ex-lovers, and friends. It’s not the first time he’s hearing this, either. Yet, it still hurts the most.

“Okay.” Ben nods in defeat and harshly swallows down the hurt in his entire body. “I guess thank you for your honesty then.” He forces a weak smile to his lips. “You’re wrong, though, by the way… I do know what love is.”

As the door closes behind the broken former supe, Y/N realizes what she’s done. She wants to run after him, tell him she’s a better liar than him, and nothing of what she’s said was the truth. That she’s never been happier than when she’s with him. That she wants everything that he wants. That she does love him for fuck’s sake.

But why should she give him false hope and placate him? He’s had enough of that his whole life. It’s better to rip the band-aid off right now. There’s no future for them. That’s the real lie. The CIA will never let him go. Y/N knows that, and Ben should know it, too. He deserves to know.

So, she stays mum and lets him go.

The rational part wins in the end and keeps her feet frozen to the ground, even though it shatters her heart.

Fourteen hours, thirty-three minutes, and fifty-one seconds.

That’s how much time has passed since Ben left her room last night. That’s also how long Y/N has thought about their conversation, replayed it bit by bit in an endless loop.

It’s also the same amount of time that regret could fester in her heart.

Maybe the world isn’t black and white, after all. Maybe it’s okay to live in the gray. Maybe it’s even healthy to hope. Maybe it’s essential for a human’s survival.

Y/N’s knuckles knock on the door of Room 11 like she’s done so many times before. It almost feels like a full circle moment.

Five months ago, she could’ve never imagined becoming friends with the narcissistic asshole that resides in that room, much less falling head over heels in love with him.

Yet, here she is.

Her ears then pick up a set of strange noises, moans and groans that echo out into the hallway. Her stomach churns, her gut already knowing what’s happening inside before her brain and heart can catch on.

Determinedly, she opens the door and storms in. As expectedly, she finds the former green-eyed superhero standing at the end of his bed with blonde Daisy on all fours on the mattress. Needless to say, neither of the two is dressed.

Y/N’s mouth fills with spit – or bile – she can’t really tell. She wants to simultaneously scratch out her eyes and brand the memory into her brain as a reminder to never trust someone again. To never be this stupid again.

Far from stopping any action, Ben continues on with his movements as he recognizes her. He even looks her dead in the eye. If he’s taken aback by her presence or feeling caught, he doesn’t let it show. Instead, a wide, cunning and petty smirk spreads across his cheeks.

“Hey, sweetheart, c’mon, get in here,” he says and slaps Daisy’s rear with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “Join us,” he extends his invitation, his voice laced with something wicked and vile.

Y/N doesn’t respond. She might have even blacked out for a second because a minute later, the door is closed again, and she’s back in the hallway with no memory of how she got here.

Inhaling and exhaling a few million deep breaths, Y/N lets the calm wash over her and feels clearer than ever before. Clarity and closure. She’s finally got it.

She rips off the green bracelet around her wrist and pretends she doesn’t feel like the biggest idiot that ever walked this planet. Truly, she should thank him. It’s the push she needed.

“It’s time,” she decides.

As the door slams shut behind Y/N, Ben pulls out and mindlessly shoves the blonde back onto the bed. Everything went according to plan, but why doesn’t it feel good?

Revenge always made him feel better in the past. It always scratched the itch and patched the hole in his heart.

Y/N was supposed to get jealous, maybe even start a hot and wild catfight with Daisy over him. She was supposed to realize what she lost – what he was goddamn worth.

Instead, she looked sad, though, and he feels like utter shit.

The blonde is complaining and yapping about something as he gets dressed, but Ben doesn’t register a single word of what she says, his mind too focused on Y/N that everything else just sounds like white noise. Daisy then leaves angrily, but he doesn’t care, either.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

Eighteen hours, nine minutes, and forty-two seconds.

That’s how much time has passed since Y/N left his room and caught him red-handed. That’s how long he thought about what he’s done like the worst prison sentence in history. It’s the amount of time he’s decided to let things cool off. If there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that neither of them are good when things get heated.

Ben knocks on her door, but instead of an answer, the door just gently falls open. As the century-old supe steps inside, he doesn’t recognize the room anymore.

Gone are the lively furniture and homey vibes. White walls, white floors, bleak windows, and an empty bed greet him.

Well, almost empty.

On the bed lies something Ben recognizes in an instant. It’s the green friendship bracelet he once gifted her, a piece of paper rolled inside of it like a scroll.

Bye, dude.

Ben crumbles the paper in his fist and throws it on the marbled linoleum, not wasting a second as he races to the nurses’ station and finds Derek.

“Where is she?” Ben snarls and plants his palms forcefully on the counter. God, does he wish he’d have his powers right now. He’d make the Earth shake in its core.

Derek, however, doesn’t even glance up from his trashy tabloid as he turns another page disinterestedly. “Where’s who?” “Y/N! Where is she? Her room is empty!”

That seems to catch Derek’s attention. He puts the magazine down and meets the former supe’s gaze. “Oh, uh, she left.”

“I know that. I can see that,” Ben grits patiently through his teeth. It’s hard being nice and polite when you truly want something. “When’s she coming back?”

The nurse wrinkles his brow. “Never,” he replies. “Didn’t she tell you? She finally left. For good. I say good for her. Was about time.”

Ben swallows. She left? Without him? Without saying goodbye? Without even telling him?

A part of him is happy for her. He wanted her to get out of the clinic and live her life to the fullest. If anyone deserved to, it was Y/N.

Another part, though, is shocked she left so easily without flinching. Without looking back and seeing him in the rearview mirror.

“Where’s she now? I need to see her. I need to tell her something,” Ben demands urgently. “Can you take me to her?”

“Nope, sorry. No more outings for you, Casanova,” Derek tells him. “Orders from the boss. With Y/N gone, you’re not allowed out anymore.”

“What?!” Ben stumps.

“Yeah, I know you didn’t realize this, but Y/N was protecting you. Without her, there’s no more privileges for you. Understood?” the nurse informs him indifferently.

Ben grinds his teeth, his furious green eyes locking on the door to the outside and then drift to the keycard hanging from the nurse’s white chest pocket.

Fast like a lightning bolt, Ben rips the card and makes a run for the exit. Screams for security, alarm bells, and red blinking lights start to fill the halls. But he’s almost made it. He’s so close to freedom, he can taste it on his goddamn tongue.

If he were naked and still had superpowers, it would feel like deja-vu.

Except the last time he broke free, no sea of arms slung around him and held him back. He screams and fights and shouts and hits. He can feel the cool prick of a needle in his jugular, feels the poison flood his veins.

And then, it all goes black.

Chapter 7: make up sex

I know, I know they're both idiots. What d'you want me to do about it, huh? "Fix it! Fix it!" Yes, I hear ya... 😘

Since it's been a few months, I'm renewing the tags. I still linked the old one for this part as not everyone surely caught that I'm back. Join the new tag list here!

TAGS:

Everything Jensen Tag: @akshi8278 @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24

Series Tag: @nancymcl

Old Series Tag: @deans-spinster-witch @iamsapphine @jessjad @suckitands33 @ladysparkles78 @spalady26 @zepskies @syrma-sensei @muchamusedaboutnothing @deansbbyx @stoneyggirl2 @zannemes @foxyjwls007 @leigh70 @fromcaintodean @roseblue373 @globetrotter28

#rehab #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy/ben #the boys season 3 #the boys #the boys fanfiction #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy smut #soldier boy fanfic

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manicpixiefelix · 10 months ago

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head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 8.

Summary: The fallout of arguing with Oliver, not fighting with Farleigh, Felix hooks up with your not-girlfriend, and so you provide comfort to his sort-of-ex.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: someone makes a move on the reader while they're very very drunk and the reader is far more sober, but it doesn't go past kissing, if that's something you're possibly concerned about.

A/N: 5424 words. welcome back. this one goes many different places in the span of one night. the farleigh of it all. the annabel of it all. im worried this one might feel OOC so id really like to hear if there's anywhere i could improve on my characterisation, what worked, what didn't?? as always unedited, and as we're nearing the end of the term (in the fic) we only have a few chapters left at oxford before we get to go to saltburn!! LOVE YOU ENJOY!!

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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"Didn't have to do that," Felix sighed from his desk, head bent low over his textbook. It's the first thing he'd said since Oliver left. You, still on his bed, picking through a textbook for a class you both share, found half-shoved under his bed, look up.

"Do what?"

"That thing with Michael What's-His-Name's file," it almost sounds like guilt in his voice, but he still isn't listening to you, "you could get in real trouble for having that."

In swift movements he stands, and you catch the sight of his scowl despite how he doesn't turn it upon you. Once again he's sitting on the floor, back to the foot of the bed, lighting up another cigarette, legs crossed in front of him.

"I'll put it back tomorrow." You're not used to Felix disapproving of you, it's a kind of discomfort you want to shake as quickly as you're able to. After a moment you add, "I know it's not really Ollie's fault, I shouldn't have -"

"I don't want to talk about Ollie right now." He's focused on balancing his ash tray on his knee, watching it with such intensity it's as if he's trying to define life's secrets from it.

"Should I go?" Murmured, almost like you're afraid of anyone hearing it, even Felix. It hangs, golden in the hazy heat of the afternoon.

"'m not the boss of you," Felix mumbles softly, head low, again his words coloured almost with guilt. You know he will never shake the quiet shame he sometimes is hit with when he remembers the way people often perceive the relationship you two share; too close, too loyal, too imbalanced.

But you've never cared; you will never treat him differently, never want for anything but his happiness, never beat the canine allegations. One day you hope you'll convince him that's okay.

So instead of leaving, you close the textbook and stretch yourself out across his bed, laying the on your belly with your head resting at the foot, by his. Your hand rests on his head, running your fingers through his hair.

Felix breathes out a lung full of smoke. He doesn't look at you. He leans into your touch and closes his eyes. The moment is a quiet one, tension thick and choking and full of things neither of you can talk about.

It's the strangest afternoon you share in a long while, one full of silence and the slow, mind numbing sound of pages being turned and the scratch of pen against paper.

"I'm gonna get ready to go out tonight," you say softly, finally breaking the silence when the courtyard outside is every shade of gold and orange in the sunset. Felix just hums in acknowledgement from his desk, "Fi?"

"Yeah," he huffs, dismissively, still looking at his notes. You've got the file in one hand, doing up the buttons of the shirt you'd forgone in the afternoon heat of his dorm room, but had to wear back to your own.

"You want me to text Oli?" You watch him grow tense at the name alone.

"Yeah, maybe, I don't know," he mumbles, almost forcibly nonchalant, despite the hard line of his shoulders that hadn't been there moments ago. Then, as if to clear the moment, he sits up straighter, turning to you in his desk chair with a look of determination in his eyes, "India still into me do you think?"

"I know India's still into you," you can't help but snort, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Would you be totally cut up if I -" he doesn't even need to finish before you're rolling your eyes.

"She'd be thrilled," but your smile softens a little, even as you shake your head with exasperation, "she's all yours, Fi."

Perhaps it's the fondness with which you acquiesces to his arguably selfish request that makes him take in the full exchange that had just passed. Felix takes a moment, tension and expression dropping as he turns pensive for a moment, unable to look you in the eyes. After a beat, you turn to the door, fully intending on letting the moment pass, but you hear Felix stand.

He doesn't say anything as he approaches you, still wearing that rather grim, thoughtful expression, but he wraps you up in a hug. He holds you as close as he's able, and after a beat of surprise, you gently drop the file to wrap your arms around him in return.

I love you. I'm sorry. All the tension from the afternoon drains away in this hug, in him pressed against you, leaning into you, breathing deep and even and steady. Pressing your face against his shoulder, you give him a brief kiss against his warm, golden skin, and hope he can feel your smile too.

The hug breaks, but still he holds your face for a long moment. He's smiling again. I love you. Thank you. He kisses your cheek quickly.

"I'll catch you at the King's Arms, yeah?"

"'course, Fi," you assure him with a warm smile of your own.

Back in your own dorm, that single moment of warmth unfortunately can't overwrite the entire afternoon of sickly tension. Looking at Oliver's name in your contacts, you frown. You should text him, invite him, Felix told him he would -

"Yeah, maybe, I don't know."

You don't text Oliver.

Annabel also isn't at the King's Arms that night. Of course you know why, the answer sits across from you with his arm around your not-girlfriend, but part of you still kind of feels bad for if the sweet redhead ever finds out.

"What are you sulking about?" Farleigh's smug voice in your ear, Farleigh's arm around your shoulder, Farleigh's cigarettes you keep stealing, Farleigh who you've tucked yourself up against for the night.

"'m not," you try insisting, frowning at the lighter that's clearly out of fluid and refusing to relight your cigarette. He gives your shoulder a squeeze.

"You sure, Peter Pan? Where's your shadow?"

"You don't give a shit about Oliver," you snap a little too quickly, both frustrated by the situation you're trying to ignore, and the useless lighter, but Farleigh reads right through it and practically cackles. Still, he wraps his other arm around you and squeezes you against his side with glee, even as you try to protest.

"Ooh~" Farleigh teases, poking your side with a wide, fond smile, "trouble in pauper's paradise?"

"That's fucking mean," you rib him none too gently, but he actually snorts with laughter. The lighter still won't bloody well start.

"I feel like you're fucking edging me with that lighter, fuck," Benji, from Farleigh's other side, smacks your lighter out of your hands and holds out his perfectly working one.

"Thank you, Benny, that was pissing me off," Farleigh says with a satisfied smile, his laughter having died down. You, finally take a draught on your cigarette, grateful for the warmth, and the nicotine as it hits.

"Could kiss you, Benj," you finally let yourself smile, "someone remind me to get a new lighter," you add, leaning across Farleigh without hesitation to plant a kiss squarely on Benji's lips after he'd wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, teasingly at you at your comment.

"We'd fascinate psychologists," Farleigh chuckled, but his voice is warm and fond, and Benji turns back to his conversation with Alicia and Jake on his other side once the moment had passed.

"Probably," comes out distracted, however as your teasing mood drops and you look to your phone. Should I have called Oliver? But when you look up, across the table, you see warmth and fondness in the way Felix looks at India, enraptured by whatever story she's telling. With one arm around her shoulders, he lets her distractedly play with his other hand, leaning into her, all attention on her. Making her feel like the centre of the universe, the way only Felix knows how to do. India glows in a way you've never seen before, lighting up under his direct affection, beautiful and elated, maybe even a little bit flustered.

There's not even a hint of jealousy at the sight of them. All you know is how much you love your friends, and how happy and beautiful they look together in this moment. There is contentment, satisfaction, like a job well done... Farleigh might have a point about the psychologists.

Speaking of - Farleigh grabs your chin and tilts your face to look at him. Immediately you smack his hand away.

"Stop that! What is that? What are you doing?" You squawk at him immediately. Again, he grabs your chin, frowning, intent upon gazing intensely into your eyes. This time you let him.

"I'm figuring out what this is," he mutters like he's deep in thought. You let your gaze roam for a moment, hoping he gets whatever this is out of his system. You wiggle your chin in his grip, and it's enough to prompt more of an explanation, "if you're not sulking, then I don't know this -" rolling your eyes, you smack his hand away.

"Fuck man, I'm not sulking," you insist, remembering your cigarette and taking another puff, glad it hadn't gone out.

"You've been weird lately; angry - ranting," Farleigh made sure to stick to your cover story despite having seen through it the minute you'd tried out the other week, "you and Felix have had some weird vibes," he takes the cigarette from you, and you settle yourself against him further.

"Fi and I always have weird vibes," you pointed out with a little smirk, keeping your voice as low as he was, glad he didn't feel the need to publicise this discussion too broadly. Farleigh snorted, but shook his head.

"You, sure," Farleigh conceded, handing back the cigarette, "but," he leans in, leans into your with a knowing, dangerously sharp smile, his hand coming to rest on your thigh, "Felix has been weird about you," his voice slides along the word weird as his hand slides up your thigh, as if to prove a point, before sitting back. Giving you a moment to recover, Farleigh sits back up like nothing happened, letting go of your thigh and taking a drink. He gives you a squeeze, arm still around your shoulders, "or hadn't you noticed?" Back at regular conversation levels like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Across the circle of your friend group, Felix's gaze momentarily flicks to you as India's in the middle of some kind of enthusiastically rambling. Gaze briefly passing to Farleigh, he then looks back and raises an amused eyebrow in silent question. The smile you give him is instinctive and warm, a silent answer. He mirrors the smile for the briefest moment before his attention returns to India.

Of course you'd noticed the change.

"Of course I've noticed." Your gaze dips; you become fascinated with your drink for the moment, trying to brace yourself for whatever comment you knew Farleigh had coming.

"Surprised he hadn't put you on a leash."

You elbow him hard in the ribs. He retaliates by flicking you repeatedly in the forehead. Its a blurry mess of frustration and elbows after that, pulling hair and wet fingers in ears and trying to sink nails into each other's soft sides, all squabbling and cursing and insults not made for polite society.

"- you put your fingers near my mouth I'll bite them off!" You holler even when he's got his arm around your neck in a kind of choke hold, which is around the time the two of you are pulled away from each other.

The rest of the table is staring at you both, while you and Farleigh straighten yourselves up, a little flustered at the many incredulous stares you were getting.

"The fuck was that about?" Felix, of course, is the one to voice the question the others all had. You look to Farleigh, his expression mirroring yours; no malice, no frustration, like nothing had happened.

"Bit of horseplay," you shrugged easily, meeting Felix's eyes, tone bright and chipper. He looked unconvinced.

"Just two dudes being guys," Farleigh's tone was light and breezy as he settled back into the booth, and you alongside him, letting him once more sling an arm around your shoulders.

"Guys bein' pals," you agreed with a nod. Farleigh pats your head for emphasis. The group thankfully decides that they've had enough of the weird moment to go back to their own conversations. Felix was the last to focus back on the conversation he'd been having with India and Alicia, narrowing his eyes as he looked between you and Farleigh.

Before turning his attention entirely away, his gaze fixes on you. There, in the very slight tilt of his head, the look in his eyes, the way his jaw tightens, you see his concern for you. You lean your head back on Farleigh's shoulder and let yourself relax, let yourself give him a genuine, reassuring smile. It's enough.

Farleigh clears his throat.

"It was either that or tell him you said that," you explained under your breath, to which Farleigh nodded in understanding, hand running up and down your shoulder idly as he reached across the table for the communal fries, bringing the basket closer to you both.

"And you don't want to tell him because you know I'm right," Farleigh is back to smug, but at least this time you can join him in his amusement.

"No, but I'm humouring you because I'd like to talk about how good I'd look in a collar," picking up a chip, you eat it with a grin as Farleigh rolls his eyes. After a moment, however, he comes back with this contemplative look, still amused, but eyes narrowed and searching like they had been earlier. You eat another chip and tell him to put his eyeballs back in his head, "seriously, quit looking at me like that, Farleigh -"

"He has been weird-weird," Farleigh says like he's agreeing, though you tell him you have no idea what the fuck he means. Taking a deep breath like he was ramping up to something, Farleigh looks across the group to Felix, before looking back at you with a kind of put-upon smile, "I say this only as someone who's know you for like, more of my life than I'd like to admit -"

"I love you too, go on."

"- so I kind of think that it might not look that different to anyone else, like they don't know it's not your usual brand of weirdness," he wets his lips, giving you a look like he's not even sure if he's meant to be saying this, like he might be letting you in on a secret you're not supposed to know, "he's been really hot and cold with you."

Of course you'd noticed.

"I slept with Oliver."

Beside you, Farleigh appears to go through all five stages of grief at once.

"You make it very hard to be friends with you sometimes," he says, shaking his head. You, however, are focusing on how many chips you can eat in a rush rather than think too much about the topic at hand.

"That mean," you tell him flatly, mouth full of potatoes, "you're being mean again."

"You chose to sleep with Oliver, that is a choice you made; I'm gonna be mean about it, you've earned it, you know you have -"

"Remember," you gave him a shit-eating grin, "how the next time we went drinking after that costume party, you spent a full half hour in the beer garden ranting about how stupid you thought Ollie's costume was," you ate another chip while Farleigh narrowed his eyes at you with barely concealed contempt, but you powered on, "and it turned out that you thought the costume didn't do him justice, which then -" your grin grew wider, "became you ranting about how his eyes are too blue, and why does he dress like that when we can all see his arms, imagine if he wore a shirt that fit!" You gleefully recounted, even as Farleigh's mouth flattened into a thin line, like he's bitten on a lemon, but he couldn't look you in the eyes.

"Hey, that's not what I -"

"And then -!" You spoke over him, "you forgot where you were and tried to take an angry nap in the bushes."

"I don't -" a flustered Farleigh squirms for a moment in his seat, unable to look at you, "remember that, and," he turned a faux serious look upon you, "if you tell anyone I said that, I'll tell them you're lying."

"I'm just saying," you shrugged, "don't act like you don't know part of the reason why I slept with him."

"Fine," Farleigh rolled his eyes, allowing his flustered frustration to ease. After a moment of contemplation, of watching Felix, he hums quietly, thoughtfully, "that can't be it, right?"

"What can't be it?"

"If Felix was going to start being jealous it wouldn't be over Oliver."

"See, that's what I thought."

"So he is jealous?"

"I don't know," you say quietly, still not quite sure how to feel about it; Felix had taken the news fine when you'd told him, he hadn't seemed any different, but of course there'd been a change. Why now?

"That's really stupid of him," Farleigh finally says, dismissively.

"It is, isn't it?" As you try and laugh, your heart's not in it. You look at your phone again, another wave of that strange discomfort that you'd been feeling lately washing over you again. You can't stay.

Everyone's surprised by your early departure as you say your goodbyes. You cite the need to study hard tomorrow, giving hugs and kisses as you start the short journey back to your dorm. Felix murmurs that he loves you and a cheeky thanks in your ear and you know he's talking about India. You kiss his cheek, and then you head off.

Nothing had seemed off when you'd told Felix.

"You look like you're about to burst into song; what happened to you?"

"Something happened!"

"Am I meant to guess?"

"No, no- I mean, like how nothing happened between me and Ollie a few months ago; something happened!"

"Something happened between you and Ollie?"

"The something that didn't happen last time -"

"I don't remember last time, Y/N, you're being so cryptic, I love that you're excited but -"

"Yes, Ollie and I slept together. Finally!"

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"No, good 'oh', promise!"

"Didn't sound like a good 'oh', Fi; is everything alright?"

"Yeah, of course, sorry Y/N, I promise, I'm just... I don't remember you being this excited about a hook up... and I don't think I was excepting it to be Ollie, you know? Was he really that good?"

"Let me put it this way, it was the kind of good that none of our other friends would believe if I told them."

"Fancy that, Ollie knows what he's doing; good for you."

"Great for me."

It wasn't particularly vulgar or explicit, you'd had far more in depth conversations about your various hook ups, Felix had seemed as happy for you as he always did with these kinds of stories. But he'd started looking at Oliver different, you'd noticed it. That too is when he became the clingiest. Farleigh was right; on nights out with Oliver around, Felix threw out any pretence of subtlety or person space. Felix acted like your boyfriend.

But then, any other night, any other group situation, it was like any other day. Sometimes he'd barely even glance at you. Hot and cold.

You're so in your head on the walk home that you barely register someone sitting at your door until you all but trip over them.

Annabel.

She'd been crying.

"Fuck you." Is how she greets you.

"What are you doing here?" A twinge of pity, a twinge of guilt, to see her obviously distraught at your doorstep. She gets unsteadily to her feet, swearing at you again. Reaching out to steady her, she surprises you by lunging at you, grabbing you.

"You were there, weren't you? With the rest of them," Annabel's gripping your collar, makeup smeared with tears and eyes red-rimmed, "with him," lips still inches from yours, her gaze unfocused but searching, "I can fucking smell it on you- you- you and rich boy-" but she stops for a moment, expression falling to confusion, "Farleigh?"

"Annabel -" you ease her hands off of your collar, partly confused, but mostly pitying.

"Why do you smell like Farleigh?" She sounds almost like a lost child, refusing to let go of your hand as you pulled out your keys. God she looks so helpless, tears still welling in her eyes, vodka bottle mostly empty by her feet.

"Why are you so good at telling what Farleigh smells like?" You countered with, swinging the door open. At this, some of the righteous indignation fires up in her again, flouncing into your room.

"You all went to the same boarding school, you've all got these same habits, and same but different scents you cling to," she's scowling at your dresser as you picked up the vodka bottle and brought it into your room, shutting your door. You watch her for a long moment, see how she analyses everything you have there, perfumes, colognes, makeup, skin care, little bits of paper rubbish - she picks up a bottle and flicks off the lid, not caring where it landed amongst the rest of the things there. When she sprays it, she seems to almost relax amongst it's mist. Of course. It's Felix's favourite, Felix's scent as she'd so aptly described it, for when he'd spend the night.

"Of course you have his too," she says faintly, almost derisively.

Allowing your attention to finally drift from her, you start getting ready for bed, heading to your closet to hang up your jacket.

"You all need to mark your territory," she spits, out of your peripheries, you see her move away from your dresser and pick up her vodka again, "need everyone to know who you own, who we all belong to -"

"Anna, that's not -" you sighed, unsure of where any of this was going, but not liking it either way. As you search your drawers for pyjamas, you felt her gentle hands on your hips. Jumping at the sudden touch, when you spin she braces herself against the drawers with hands either side of you, while your hands become trapped, the last bit of resistance between her chest and yours.

"I smelled like you both for weeks," she murmurs, gaze roaming your body, almost hungry, landing back on your lips, "you remember that? I should- I should- should have been fucking sickened," she admits, voice a low whisper, the hunger turning needy, turning into almost a whimper, "the things I want you both to do to me make me sick to my stomach," her lips inch closer to yours, shared breath, heat in the air, "of course I know what the fuck you all choose to smell like, I can't get it out of my fucking head," you should lean away but there's something intoxicating about her rage, her desperation, her desire, "Our Annabel, that's what he'd called me, what you'd -" and she kisses you, vodka still wicked and bitter on her tongue, all but panting into your mouth as her hands find your hips again.

But it can't continue, you can't let this go on. As you lean back to free your arms, to hold her back, she takes advantage of the opportunity to slide her hands beneath your shirt, cold and nimble against your belly -

"Could've been my Felix -" she mumbles, as if in a trance, eyes hazy and full of both tears, like she was looking into a memory. The minute her fingers find your fly you grab her hands firmly. It takes you a moment to regain your composure, to remind yourself that she wasn't in her right state of mind, that she probably didn't even know what she was doing or saying -

My Felix flares bright and hot and possessive in your mind. My Felix.

"Ow," Annabel's noise of pain brings you back to reality, but thankfully it seems the shock to her system brought her back too. Looking down at your vice-like grip on her wrists, she looks back at you as you let her go, embarrassment in her eyes as she perhaps realises some of what she'd been doing.

"I'm not sleeping with you tonight, Anna," still, your voice is gentle. She huffs an embarrassed little laugh, starting to sniffle again. Again, you remind yourself that this poor girl just got her heart broken by your best friend, and decided to deal with that by drinking an entire bottle of vodka. You'd committed to showing her some compassion tonight.

"I know." The tension drops, and she just leans her head forward to rest her forehead on your shoulder. You can't help but hug her, feeling the heavy way she sighs as you're giving her a reassuring pat on the back. The two of you stay like that for a very long few minutes until you hear her start crying again.

"Do you wanna borrow some pyjamas?" You ask softly, and feel her nod.

The rest of the night is quiet after that, taking care of this distraught young woman who got her heart broken by your best friend. It reminds you of nights you'd spend with Venetia back at Saltburn.

Annabel sits on your bathroom counter patiently, ankles crossed, watching the way you focus as you wipe off her makeup with meticulous care. When you take off her necklace, you coil it delicately on top of the nice clothes she'd been wearing, now sitting on top of her shoes by your door. At first she tries to wave you off when you offer to brush out her hair -

"There's -" she hiccups; the full bottle of vodka has finally hit her, but still she tries to shake her head, "too much hairspray, it'll be a hassle -"

"I'll be gentle," you told her softly, assurance in your eyes and a warm smile on your lips, "if you'll let me." Annabel melts under that gaze, sitting in borrowed pyjamas, face clean, cross-legged on your bed in the lamp light. You treat her with the gentlest care, brushing out her hair while you can still hear her occasional sniffles; she sits as primly as she's able, only apologising once at the start for it's length. You assured her it's fine.

"You scare me sometimes," Annabel mutters into the quiet, voice watery. For a moment, you pause.

"Me?"

"Both- both of you. You and Felix," she sniffles again, "and Farleigh too now, I guess," you can tell she swallows thickly, voice catching in her throat. When she tries to dip her head, she can feel the way you're still holding gently, still working, and she apologises faintly. Carefully, quietly, giving her space to organise her tipsy, upset thoughts, you continue to brush out her hair.

"Never met anyone like you, you know? Didn't think people like you guys existed. You're always everything; the most without even trying," she takes a deep breath, but it's undercut by a faint sob that's almost a chuckle, "I kind of think you don't even know what I mean- you especially, you know?" You... don't.

You brush, only giving a faint apology, but all she does is fidget, the words spilling unrehearsed from her, things she's clearly been bottling for far too long -

"Felix is everything everyone wants, and you're everything everyone wants him to be," she says it so forlornly, "the sun and it's fucking warmth," then, almost disgusted as she spits it under her breath, "I think about how he's never going to fuck me the way he looks at you while he's shitfaced, how sick is that?"

With a few more strokes her hair is brushed out, and without even thinking you start to braid it. Annabel's dissolved into tears again, her face in her hands, but you're just careful not to tug on her hair too hard as her whole body shakes with them.

"He never gave a proper shit about me, did he?" Annabel sobs as you're tying off the braid. The minute it's done, she turns and throws herself into your arms, sobbing against your chest, "I'm just another fucking girl to him!"

"He still loves you as a friend, I'm sure; you know how Fi is-" you pet her shoulder carefully as she clutches your shirt for dear life.

"I don't wanna be his fucking friend! I gave him my fucking heart and now he's probably got his dick in that slag India, who said she was my friend!" Spitting her words with fury, with venom, she looks up, but only sees a look of pitying apology in your eyes; she's probably right. Lip curling, she throws herself back on your bed, hands covering her face once more, "he doesn't fucking care," she groaned, fury turning poisonous with resignation, "I know he doesn't care; if I thought he truly cared I would have fucked Oliver -"

"What?"

"- Felix is so fucking fickle, god, seems like he doesn't even care about Oliver anymore, I should have- should have -" she continues on, but breaks down crying again. Getting off the bed, you leave for the common room for half a moment, filling it with water.

"Drink this," you instruct, sitting next to Annabel on the edge of the bed. She scowls, but follows your orders easily, even if she can't properly look you in the eye. The water seemed to have at least helped, as her crying quiets down as you refill the glass in your bathroom sink.

"I feel like shit," she mumbles, watching you come back into the room and place the cup on her bedside.

"Well you look pretty," you tell her teasingly, trying to lighten the mood even a little as you gently pinched her cheek. She does not appear to find the humour in the moment. Still, you turn off your lamp and climb over her into the bed, "please don't throw up in my bed or on my floor."

"I know where your bathroom is."

The two of you kick off the neat duvet but pull the thin, luxurious sheet over you both.

"Thank you..." it sounds begrudging as she says it. You tell her it's no stress, sitting up for a moment in order to open your window a crack, let a breeze in overnight, but still hear her when she says, "you're a bad friend."

Still sitting, you take a deep breath, sighing as a silhouette in the moonlight.

Annabel is more astute than you possibly gave her credit for in this state; amongst all her felt injustices, she'd never once asked about how you felt about Felix fucking India, your well established not-girlfriend. Because somehow she knew, perhaps even that you gave your blessing. You'd never been a cruel person as long as you could help it, but you'd made peace with your priorities too long ago to start apologising for them now. So yes, you'd taken Annabel in for the night, but she knew in her heart that you were partially at fault for her despair in the first place. You both knew.

Enabling Felix was never really about making anyone else happy.

"I know."

Something about your admission seems to be enough for Annabel, however. When you lay back down beside her, she curls up against you, tucks herself all along your side, arm around you, head on your chest.

The next morning, Annabel moves silently around your dorm. When you wake up, all that's even left of her presence is the empty cup of water on your bedside. No kind of note, no text, she'd made sure she didn't even wake you before leaving.

Fucking Christ, what a bloody week did yesterday feel like, is all you can think as the mid-morning sun slashes through your barely parted curtains and paints your chest with light.

You consider sleeping in, consider that you'd definitely earned it after yesterday, but then your phone starts ringing. It's Felix. He sounds grim.

"Hey, can you get over here? We need you."

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton x reader #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick imagine #felix catton x y/n #oliver quick x you #oliver quick x y/n #felix catton x you #felix catton x you x oliver quick #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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starrayblogs · 11 months ago

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Not So Rock-Hearted || Floyd (Trolls) x Reader

a/n: AHH, HAPPY NEW YEARS/EVE EVERYONE! i decided to get this chapter finish, so you can start off the new year with your favorite emo troll :3 hehe, anyway have a fun read! likes/reblogs are appreciated, and asks are welcomed

tags: @brights-place @crowleysthings

✩ previous chapter

vi. The Energy Shifting

You watch Floyd tune his guitar to his satisfaction while you sit on the floor, holding your guitar in front of you. He runs through the strings for the final time before smiling and settling down in front of you.

“Sorry that took a while.” He says.

“No worries, I know how it is.” You chuckles. “Wanna go first?” You tilt your head to his guitar, gesturing for him to play.

“You don’t want to?” He raises a brow and gives a sided smile.

“Sly pop troll.” You comment, smirking a bit and squinting your eyes. “What do I get?” You lean back.

“Hmm… Let’s play a game. For every song that we play, we get to ask each other a question.” Floyd smiles, and you hum. You position your fingers on the strings of a song you’re already thinking of.

You look back up to him, meeting his eyes with a relaxed smirk, your eyes half-lidded as you let out a short laugh. “I hope you have a lot of songs ready, Cotton Candy.” You don’t catch his eyes widening and blinking at your comment. You play the opening riff to one of your favorite rock songs for a bit before ending and looking at him again.

He claps for a bit, and you playfully bow your head. “Ask away.” He leans back, his body supported by his bed behind him.

“Hmm…” You tap the body of your guitar gently as you think before a question comes up. “Oh, what was your role in the band?” You ask, adjusting so that you're leaning your elbows on the side of your guitar.

“Oh, that’s…” He chuckles, bashfully scratching the back of his head as his eyes avert you. “I was the sensitive one in the band.” He looks back at you with a shy smile, the curve reaching his eyes slightly.

“Shut up…” You snicker, leaning a bit forward. “You were the emo one?”

“Hey, one song, one question.” Floyd points, laughing lightly as you raise your hands in surrender.

“You’re right.” You say, but one of your raised hands twists at the wrist to face him. “Then, I believe it’s your turn.” You watch as he sits up straight as your hands return to your guitar, his hands on his as well.

When his hands are in position, he glances up at you briefly before smiling and beginning to play a song. When he sings lyrics, it takes you back a bit, but it physically brings you forward in hopes of hearing him as clearly as possible (you’re psyching yourself, come on).

His voice is soft, and the song he sings is different from the ones you’ve heard from Brozone. You can tell he’s only singing the chorus because of how short his performance is, but it excites you for more later.

“I didn’t know we were supposed to be singing.” You mumble, your chest light when your eyes meet again.

“I just prefer to, but you don’t have to.” He replies, chuckling softly.

“Is that a Brozone song?” You ask, tilting your head slightly but he shakes his head as he chuckles again.

“You don’t play fair, huh?” He smirks slightly and your eyes widen a bit, your cheeks tinting embarrassingly. “It’s my turn to ask a question.”

“Yeah, yeah…” You wave a dismissive hand, clearing your throat with a fist.

“Are rock trolls really as edgy as they appear?” You snort at his question, quickly shaking your head with a sided grin.

“Maybe, maybe not.” You reply, not directly answering the question.

“Come on, that’s not an answer.” Floyd pries. You hum, your face softening when you meet his eyes, and you see how they were waiting for you to speak.

“No, not really. If anything, we’re actually pretty lazy.” You run a hand through your hair. “To you, it looks cool, edgy,” you explain. “But we feel the same things as every other troll, we’re just a little more rough up front.” You shrug your shoulders, preparing your fingers to play another song.

“Hm…” Floyd hums. “It’s a good thing that you’re the first rock troll I know. You don’t seem too rough around the edges.” Your head looks up from the guitar at his comment, raising a brow.

“Am I not cool to you, Cotton Candy?” You tilt your head.

“You are cool. I’m just saying that…” He pauses as he tries to properly form his thoughts. “I think that you’re less rough side, is just as interesting as the rest of you.”

You blink, shying your eyes away from him to the guitar. You can feel your cheeks slightly warm up as you reply, “Thanks…” You reply softly. “You’re interesting too.” You return the compliment before beginning to play a new song.

When you finish and lock eyes with his again, he nods his head as a gesture to you to ask your question. “That song you sang… Did you write that?” You ask, smiling a bit.

He chuckles. “It’s one of my many, yes.”

“I liked it. Your voice suits the song.” You say, watching him subtly place a hand on his throat for a moment as he chuckles.

“Thank you… I wrote a lot when I went on a solo career.” He follows, and your ears perk up. Now you know what to ask next. “My turn,” he says, playing another one of his songs on the guitar, his voice calm.

You clap similarly to how he clapped for you earlier once he was finished, chuckling.

“You said you liked my song. Do you really not enjoy pop songs anymore?” Your smile falters as your eyes flutter a bit, turning your eyes to the floor. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t feel like it.” He quickly reassures, and you glance at him with a weak, sided smile before closing yor eyes.

You take a breath in. “It’s fine, I was just surprised by your question.” You explain, running a thumb over a string on your electric guitar. “To answer, I don’t sing pop anymore. I’m not saying I can’t, maybe I still can, but you know…” You shrug a shoulder. “It’s easier for me to express myself with rock music now, but I’m not against other genres. I still enjoy some pop songs, actually.” You chuckle.

“Really?” Floyd tilts his head and you tut him.

“One song, one question.” You remind him of his rules and he blinks. He chuckles and watches you position your hands to play another song. “Can’t seem to follow your own rules, hm?” You smirk before glancing down to focus on the song you’re playing.

“I like that one.” Floyd comments when you finish the riff.

You smile before relaxing your grip on your guitar to ask your question. “So, you mentioned having a solo career? What happened to being in a band?” You tilt your head and Floyd’s face noticeably darkens.

His brows furrow, and his lip bites itself. He hides his eye underneath his bang again, tightly gripping the guitar. Your face softens in worry.

“Floyd? Sorry, did I..? You don’t have to answer that one if you don’t want to…” Your voice is unsure as your hand comes toward him to comfort him, but it stops mid air. You flinch it back when he inhales deeply and his face softens, raising a hand.

“It’s fine. You didn’t know… but I don’t think I can answer that yet. Maybe next time.” Floyd gives you a smile, relaxing his grip on the guitar. You frown, and he notices it. “It’s okay, really.”

“Sorry, I… I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.” You murmur, shifting to get ready to stand up. “I can go if-”

“No, please.” Floyd reaches out to you and you stiffen. “Stay.” He tells you, placing a hand on the side of your guitar to keep you where you were. “Really, it’s okay. You didn’t mean it, don’t be sorry.” He says softly, moving his bangs to show the sincerity in his eyes. There’s light in them—light that hopes you'll take his word.

You meet his eyes, but avert them to his hand on your guitar. You blink, taking a moment to think. When you look up again, his eyes never waver with that glint. “Okay…” You murmur, and his face brightens until it reaches his eyes.

“You can ask me another question.” Floyd pulls his hand away from your guitar, nudging his head gently as he leans back with a smile.

You blink as you try to think about another question. “What do you think of your brothers?” You ask, what you think is, a safe question.

“They’re the best brothers anyone could ask for.” Floyd chuckles. “We’ve had our bumpy moments, but I’m glad to finally be with them again.” He taps on his guitar lightly, and the way he answers leaves you more curious.

Your face relaxes at his smile while he thinks of his brothers. “Do you still want to play?” You ask softly.

“I’m okay if you’re okay.” You nod your head at his reply and he smiles a bit wider as he gets ready for another song. He plays a quick chorus, but his voice helps you further relax again. You stare at each other for a bit before Floyd asks his question, “Do…” He hesitates a moment. “Do you want to-”

“Floyd, are you in there?” Poppy interrupts him, asking if he’s seen you around. “It’s getting late and Barb wants to say goodbye before she goes back!”

You both turn to the direction of her voice before lowly getting up, Floyd opening the door to his pod to reveal the both of you inside. Outside were Poppy, Viva, Barb, and Floyd’s brothers on a branch right outside the pod.

“There you are! I was worried you got glitter bombed somewhere.” Barb is the first one to speak up, and you snicker, stepping out of Floyd’s pod to walk to her. “So..?” She smirks, crossing her arms and tilting her head.

You squint your eyes and cock your head to the side. “Not tonight, Barb.” She raises her hands in surrender, and you shake your head with a short laugh.

“Enjoy your weekend, alright? I’ll see you soon.” Barb holds out her fist, and you bump it with yours. “Don’t rock too hard without me.” She winks, nudging you with her elbow which makes you groan, and her laugh.

“You make me not want to go back after the weekend.” You sarcastically remark, crossing your arms.

“I’m sure you’d enjoy that extended time, huh?” She teases, and you’re blushing now.

“Get home safe, Barb.” You grit through a smile, waving her goodbye. She laughs one last time as she walks away, waving at you. When she jumps down the tree, you stop waving and keep an eye on her until she’s out of sight.

“Yay, another slumber party!” Viva exclaims, rushing to pick you up in a hug. You smile, trying to hug her back as best you can. “We’ll make peppermint candy necklaces tonight.” She whispers as she sets you down.

“That sounds great, Veev.” You smile.

“Were you guys just in here the whole time?” Bruce tilts his head and raises a brow.

You turn your head away; your blush hasn’t yet faded from Barb’s teasing. “We were just getting to know each other more.” Floyd answers for the both of you, stepping forward with a smile.

“Woah, is that a new guitar?” Clay points out his guitar, your gift, with a surprised grin. “Flexin’ that talent, I see, I see.” He nods approvingly, pursing his lips.

“It was a gift.” He glances to you, and you catch his gaze for a moment. The rest of them look amongst each other and connect the dots, Poppy and Viva giggling amongst themselves.

“Well, we better get some shut eye so we can wake up early and get straight to the fun tomorrow!” Poppy announces, receiving agreements from all over the group.

“You sleepin’ with us in the bunker tonight, Floyd?” Clay asks, catching his younger brother’s attention. The rest of his brothers had begun walking in the direction of Branch’s bunker.

“Oh, yeah, I’ll catch up in a bit.” Floyd replies, waving his hand to indicate that Clay and the rest of his brothers can go on ahead. Clay nods, making his way down the tree to catch up with his brothers.

“Wanna start our sleepover?” Viva turns to you with a grin. When your arms unfurl with a smile to answer, but Floyd speaks up again, rather hurriedly.

“Actually, I just need to ask a question if it’s okay.” He says, stepping next to you. The sisters’ eyes widen at his actions.

“Oh, that’s totally okay!” Viva replies, smiling and slipping her hand around Poppy’s arm as she looks at you. “We’ll be waiting at the pod, okay?”

“Oh…” You blink repeatedly, confused. “Yeah, okay. I’ll see you guys there.” You wave each other goodbye before looking to Floyd. You remember that he didn’t finish his question earlier. “Oh, you got interrupted by Poppy, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What is it that you were gonna ask?” You turn to face him, curious.

You watch as he breathes in deeply, looking down at his feet before looking back to you. “Remember how I said that you’re less rough side is interesting?” You nod your head slowly, and he continues. “I think that everything about you is interesting, and I was hoping to get to know you better.”

You feel your cheeks heat up again, your hand coming up to hold your arm.

“I was gonna ask…” He takes another deep breath. “Do you want to spend tomorrow together?”

You blink as your eyes widen. “What? Like… just the two of us?” You ask, and he nods with a nervous look in his eye.

“If it’s okay with you.” He smiles softly, but there’s still a nervous glint in his eyes.

You take a moment to think, your heart racing in your chest. Your blush has reached to the tips of your ears at the thought of spending the weekend with Floyd. You want to, but there’s a part inside of you that’s saying this is dangerous, that this good thing will be taken away from you. But you remember Barb’s words, and let that fear subside and hope emerge. You want this. So…

“Okay… I’d like that, Cotton Candy.” You smile softly, and the light in his eye highlights how bright his entire face morphs at your reply. You’re both happy. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

#✩ starraywrites #trolls band together #trolls floyd x reader #x reader #not so rock-hearted

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superblysubpar · 1 year ago

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masterlist | the music

Chapter Warnings: spoilers for the movie franchise Star Wars | mentions of the holiday Halloween being celebrated by others and reader enjoying it | Leigh is not my character creation, a shared character who @sweetsweetjellybean originally created & I put a little twist on for this story with her permission.

Sorry freaks, no smut this chapter - but the series is 18+ and so is my blog so skedaddle on out of here if you're not!

9.4k words | A/N: I can't begin to express my gratitude for those who've read this story & those that helped me get through writing it, especially my beta extraordinaire @sweetsweetjellybean and @loveshotzz for helping me break that pesky wall of self doubt and writer's block always. I have a big long A/N on the epilogue that's posting right after these two chapters with more sap. Thanks for being here, I love you immensely if you've made it this far from the beginning or you're just arriving 💛

In the movies, they like to make those big plot twists drag out for the protagonist to let it really sink in. Or maybe it's more for the viewers. Special effects, camera angles, flashbacks, and poignant music playing - all to make seconds feel much longer than they are.

In your experience, these plot twists are usually predictable. Of course that guy’s the villain, it was the best friend all along, he’s Luke’s father, et cetera, et cetera. You’re utterly baffled every time by a character’s lack of intuition to see it coming. You’ve booed at writing and acting and told yourself that in real life, it’s so different.

Sure, surprises happen. Reality does not care about predictability, the fragile state of the human heart, or what’s fair. You get that. People cheat, they make mistakes, they die, they lose - and there isn’t some fade-to-black-happy-ending guarantee when they do. There isn’t a countdown on the bottom of a screen letting you know there’s still time left to make it all back from whatever happened, no assurance that it’ll all work out.

To call something real - something happening directly to you - a plot twist, seems horribly wrong though. Is there another word for it? Those moments that manage to catch you off guard, that come without warning or a build up. Moments that hit you repeatedly like a knife to a chest in a slasher flick. Or feel like the instant demise of oxygen leaving your lungs as a door opens to space. That sucker-punch from a red glove to the jaw when you think you’ve just won the big fight.

What do you call that shit?

Robin’s voice is an echo, muffled and distorted as if you’re deep underwater. “Oh my god, hi! Wow, you are so much prettier than Steve mentioned.”

Who is with Steve?

Robin keeps going, putting her entire foot in her mouth, oblivious to the way Steve’s eyes haven’t left yours. You only stop staring yourself, after what feels like hours, to finally take in their intertwined hands as Robin babbles. “Wait, I mean…no, see…alright, he told us you were pretty is what I’m trying to say, but like you’re even prettier…”

Who the hell is with Steve?

Her laugh cuts through the fog and your eyes finally focus on the woman attached to the sound.

She’s pretty, just like Robin keeps saying over and over again.

Dark, shiny hair, piercing eyes that you can see - even from this distance - are a hazel to almost match his. A hypnotizing smile, curves and a confidence radiating off of her… everything you wish you were but aren’t.

She laughs again, assuring Robin she gets it (in an infuriatingly humble way), introducing herself as Leigh Kensington.

Nancy perks up at the name when Robin gasps and shouts, “Oh my god! Nance!” Robin looks back, waving her over, “Just like Legally Blonde!” Her voice attempts to lower as she sighs to Leigh, “She loves Reese Witherspoon. It is Vivian Kensington right?” The question louder and directed at Nancy again. Robin doesn’t even take a breath to let her answer though, “Which is hilarious because Steve’s mom’s name is Vivian and you’re dating Steve and you work in legal, right? And-“

Emerald glass shatters around your feet as the bottle of beer falls from your hand, the sharp shards scatter quickly, too broken to ever be put back together. Your legs turn to lead and muscles are no longer in communication with your brain as it finally makes the connection to what you’re seeing and hearing and what that means for you.

“Shit! Jesus, woman-“ Eddie jumps back from you as the glass skirts across the pavement further.

Robin finally turns in your direction at the commotion, her brows knit together in worry. Face progressively getting more concerned as it tightens. Her hand lets a bean bag fall to the board with an echoing thump. “Hey, you look-“

Not waiting to hear the end of her sentence, you will your legs to work and spin, taking off in search of literally any place that isn’t there. Your feet pound against the pavement, thuds that vibrate through the rubber of your soles all the way up to your eardrums.

It’s seconds, less than a minute, and it’s as if the entire stadium - hell, your entire world - has spun upside down. Roars to your left, the rumbling of fan’s excitement from the nosebleeds down to the field mingle and harmonize with the rapid beating in your chest. As you keep running with no real destination other than away, your shoulders bump stranger’s, meeting their frowns and scoffs with whispered and rushed apologies. The familiar sting behind your eyes forms, eyelashes growing damp as you suck in a sharp breath. No more running, you need somewhere to hide.

You’re not going to cry about this. You’re not. How could you be so stupid? How could you let this happen?

The familiar long line all women are accustomed to grabs your attention and you’re off again. Disgruntled and shouted annoyance from everyone in line echoes across the dull gray tile as you rush past them, yelling something about an emergency. You slam a turquoise door, sliding the silver latch with shaking fingers as your forehead rests on the cold material of the stall. You focus on breathing through your nose and out your mouth, this is fine. You’re fine.

A buzz in your pocket once, twice, and then a third time, and you don’t have to pull your phone out to know they’re texts from him. Despite your better judgment, you look:

It buzzes a fourth time and you lock the phone, debating just chucking it into the toilet.

The sleeve of your sweatshirt presses to your mouth as you clear your throat. No tears are falling for him, not today, not ever.

You hate Steve Harrington.

This was always the plan.

You hate Steve Harrington.

It’s not like you were in love with the guy.

Even as you think it, the panic turns to defense inside of yourself - scrounging around for rocks and bricks, reinforcing the wall around your heart you had started to let crumble for a boy you thought was worth it.

“Girl, what the hell?”

A familiar pair of red converse with writing and doodles covering any space they can, mirror your feet at the base of the stall. You step back, fingers hovering over the latch, ready to tell her it’s fine. Robin isn’t an idiot though, and you’re certain that despite your denial, she’ll take one look at you and make you spill your guts.

Her feet move closer, the familiar clink of rings meeting metal hits your ears, letting you know she’s pressing her palms to the door. Robin’s voice is softer and for one brief, horrible moment, you think she knows. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

The guilt that’s hovered over you for months like a storm cloud, releases, engulfing you completely, the promise of sunlight no longer on the horizon. Funny how just hours ago, you were thinking about Robin finally knowing, about how she couldn’t be mad, not when you were both so happy. Your gut twists. You’ve lied to your friend for so long, and for what?

“Just, um, cramps.” The lies keep on building, pushing at the dam you’ve created to keep it all from her. You’re just buying time now, the pressure is going to reach its breaking point soon and you’re worried your friendship with Robin will be washed away when it does.

At the mention of cramps, the disgruntled voices of those in line turn to understanding - muted solidarity in the form of tampon and painkiller offerings.

“Robin, why don’t you grab her some food or something? Maybe a ginger ale? I’ve got stuff in my bag and we’ll meet you all out there,” another familiar voice suggests.

“But I can-“

“That would be really great, Robs,” you interrupt her protest, pushing out the words to sound as eager as you can.

A pair of white tennis shoes sneak between Robin’s and the stall door - like Nancy is trying to put space between the two of you, shielding her girlfriend from any more of your lies.

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Robin starts hesitantly, “I saw this gourmet grilled cheese stand thing and-“

“No!” Fingers curling over your mouth at the severity of your interruption, you take a beat before quietly continuing, “Uh, um, actually, just some chips please?”

Your eyes close, willing the memory of your last grilled cheese away. Now is not the time to remember the man you shared it with.

How he looked at you.

How he asked you to open up, how it made you feel when he said he knew you.

How he kissed you.

You hate Steve Harrington.

The initial shock has stopped sizzling and is now a full burn, anger releasing over your frazzled nerves. What else has Steve claimed, what other things could be ruined when all you can do is relate them to him? But as quickly as the anger for him forms, you have to glance down and realize there are three fingers pointing back at yourself.

Why did you give him the opening?

“Roger that, kitten!”

You’re sure she gives a salute to your closed stall door, the red sneakers turning on their heels, her footsteps fading away. The pristine white of Nancy’s twist slightly towards the door. Her voice is quiet as she asks, “Can I come in there?”

Clearing your throat once more, you try to brush her off, “Nancy, really, I’m fi-“

“Bullshit.”

Maybe it’s the way she says the word - that a girl you don’t know all that well can see through your lies, be so sure you’re not fine. Maybe it’s because you desperately wish that you could have opened the door for Robin, to leave the football game and go drown in margaritas and dissect every little thing that led to this moment and let her tell you it was all going to be okay and boys are stupid. Or maybe, it’s the fact that you’ll never get to do that, never allowed to tell Robin, that makes you slide the latch unlocked for Nancy Wheeler.

She slips in quickly, her brown curls that are clipped in a half up-do bounce as she tilts her head quizzically at you. Her arms cross over the embroidered team logo on her sweatshirt, her blue eyes peer directly into your soul. She’s got this way about looking at you that, without saying anything, makes you want to tell her everything. An energy radiates off of Nancy, a quiet curiosity bubbling under the surface - or perhaps it’s frustration. You’re being studied, a puzzle she can’t crack.

Her lips twist as she clearly debates her words before she finally settles on a simple, “You didn’t know?”

Nancy’s question makes your stomach drop, solidifying that she not only knows about you and Steve, but that Leigh is not a new or unknown development. Your mind swirls to their argument on the beach, Nancy finding you in the bathroom - how long has Steve been seeing Leigh?

“No,” your response comes out in a half laugh, trying to cover up any feelings that attempt to sneak out and reveal too much. The toe of your sneaker scuffs at a knick in the tile as you avoid her eyes.

She tucks a curl behind her ear and sighs. Her face pinches into that quizzical look again, huffing, “He’s an idiot.”

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. You don’t want to dwell on how she connected the dots about you and Steve or how you’ve all been lying to Robin, and you especially don’t want her pity. “Nancy, I really don’t need you to comfort me. I’m fine. Can we just go?”

At the clamp of Nancy’s mouth shutting and the purse of her lips, you regret the icy tone almost immediately. Squeezing your eyes closed, you try again. “I’m sorry, I’m just…” trailing off because where do you even start? You’re mad, hurt, confused, blind-sided, the list could go on and on and you don’t care to reach the end at this moment. You force a smile, changing the subject all together, “Don’t you want to get out there and hear how incredibly little Robin truly knows about sports?”

Nancy’s lips twitch and her arms drop to her sides with a sigh. “Right, well, if you change your mind, I like to think I’m a pretty good listener if you ever want to talk about anything.”

Sometimes, people say things to say things - like they feel as if they’re supposed to say a certain thing when a certain situation calls for it. One look at the kindness in Nancy’s eyes, the small smile on her lips, and you know that is not the case right now. She genuinely, truly means she’s there to listen if you need it. Despite lying to all of them, despite barely knowing her, and the realization has tears forming behind your eyes for an entirely different reason than earlier.

“Thanks,” the word leaves you quietly. It feels small and inconsequential in return for a gesture you’re not even sure Nancy realizes the weight of.

That is, until she turns from the door, her hand hovering over the latch as she faces you again. “I should mention though, that one of you is going to have to tell Robin. Sooner rather than later. And I make no promises it won’t be me, but she should hear it from one of you.” Her tone is adamant with absolutely no room for arguing.

Your guilt tugs you down harder now, only able to nod in response.

Nancy’s head bobs once in return, silently agreeing to drop the subject unless you bring it up again, and she leads the way out of the bathroom.

You hear Robin before you see them. She’s passionately arguing her case about a new musical group that Eddie is scoffing at. Leigh holds her hand up at Eddie’s argument and begins agreeing with Robin, who beams before sticking her tongue out at him.

“Hey.”

The word freezes you and Nancy clears her throat as she makes her way towards the others. Steve pushes off from the brick wall as you turn to face him.

You’ve seen many looks in his eyes before now. When they glint with mischief and charm as he flirts, how they soften as you tell a story. When they’ve turned darker as clothes are shed and they get to roam freely over your body, taking you in like an artwork. How they seem to melt like honey all over you when you’ve found them staring and they don’t care to appear ashamed he’s been caught.

Now, they’re looking at you with far too much pain behind them that doesn’t seem fair. He shouldn’t get to look at you like that, he shouldn’t get to look sad.

Steve extends his hand, a green can with beads of condensation running down the sides of it in his palm. You ignore how your fingers touch and they way his try to linger as you take the soda from him.

When you don’t say anything, he pulls the sleeves of his maroon sweater over his fingers, the toe of his boot scuffing the pavement as his brows meet in the middle. Several pieces of hair fall over his forehead that’s wrinkled with concern, letting you know he’s run his hands through it too many times to have already broken whatever products he’s put in it.

“Can we go somewhere and talk for a sec?”

A sec.

A quick conversation, one he just wants to get over with. To tell you what? Things you’ve already concluded from his surprise today? That he’s with someone. He wants to stay friends. He never felt the way you were starting to feel for him. This was always the plan.

You’re not interested in anything Steve has to say any more.

“Game’s about to start, Harrington, maybe later.” Your tone is clipped and short, smile forced.

His brows pinch closer together as he tilts his head, the harsh line of his jaw flexing. “Really? Cause the way you ran off and that tone could have fooled me.”

“I’m fine, I don’t know exactly what you’re hearing, but if you have something you’d like to say, by all means Steve, let’s hear it.”

Steve closes his eyes and a long breath leaves his nose, “Please-“ his plea is cut off by her.

“Hi, I’m Leigh. It’s so nice to meet you, Steven’s told me so much about you! I hope everything is okay? Everyone was so worried…”

She reaches forward, arms wrapping around you and your stiffening body.

She’s fucking hugging you.

“Uh, yeah, you…too. And yes, thanks, I’m fine. This will help.” Untangling yourself from her, you hold up the can and force another smile. “Thanks Steven.”

Leigh beams at him, grabbing his hand and you just can’t help yourself, turning to him again. “Actually, Steven was just letting me know he had something to tell me, what was so important, buddy?”

Eddie coughs as Steve narrows his eyes. Nancy claps her hands, interrupting the tension filled moment, “Alright, ready guys?”

Robin points towards the bleachers. “I’m ready for tip off! To our seats!”

Nancy gives you a look, some sort of attempt at bringing light to the moment in front of her, before she wraps her hand around Robin’s arm and starts to walk away. “It’s kick off, hun.”

Leigh laughs as Robin lets out a long ‘Oh’, Steve and her following. When Steve glances back over his shoulder at you, the full can of soda meets the trash as you turn towards Eddie. Stealing the fresh beer from his hands, the plastic cup tips to your lips, foam slowing you down as you chug.

“Woah, woah, woah! Easy killer.” Eddie tugs on the cup, pulling it from your mouth. “From my understanding, football games are long and we need to pace ourselves. Stevie is not worth a two in the afternoon black out.”

Your mouth opens to protest and he waves his hand in front of your face, “Ah, ah, ah, you can squeeze my fingers or something whenever you feel like punching him instead.”

“Ed-“ you begin, adamant you need another drink (or twenty) to deal with the day you’re about to have.

He begins to walk away, waving his hand dismissively, “No really, I’m a secret masochist, I’ll love it.”

Your eyes narrow, hating the way your lips fight a smile that wants to meet his mood. Despite everything, you’re grateful for him and Nancy. Unsure of how to even attempt to show them how much you appreciate them. Especially after Nancy’s reminder that someone was going to have to tell Robin eventually, and these two had been lying for the both of you, keeping your secret when they didn’t need to.

Up ahead, you hear Leigh laugh, catching her head thrown back and his smile, the squeeze of her fingers on his bicep and you gulp. Your feet plant to the ground harder and you tug on Eddie’s wrist. As the group rounds the corner, heading to their seats, he turns to look at you with his eyebrows raised.

Eddie must see something in your expression because he mumbles, “Such a fucking idiot,” before he turns to the nearest vendor. “Yeah, hi, I need four very large beers. And I’m talking take your idea of large and triple it.”

This time the smile wins just a little. It’s quick to fall though, when Eddie taps his cup to one he hands you and proclaims, “If you can’t date ‘em, drink about ‘em. To the losers who break our hearts.”

“I-“ ready to tell him that’s not it at all, but his look makes your mouth close.

You don’t say it out loud, you don’t dare to speak it into existence - Eddie is wrong. You’re not broken hearted, you’re just mad Steve didn’t tell you. You’re mad that clearly they all knew, so why not you? That’s all.

Your cup taps Eddie’s again and you let the beer wash away the bitter taste in your mouth.

Screw Steve Harrington.

As the third cup of cheap beer hits your lips, you risk a glance down the line of your row again. Immediately regretting it like you have every other time. Leigh pushes the loose strand of hair on his forehead back and your eyes return to the field quickly. You’re sure your skin is turning just as green as the artificial turf, the beer making it a little easier to admit to yourself that you are jealous of the intimate moment. Your gut twinges slightly at the remembrance of only a few short weeks ago when you purposely tried to make him feel what you are now. You have no right to be mad at him.

The players blur as they move in an intricate dance only they know before anyone else. You’ve always liked sports, but today has been a good reminder as to why. Players and teams practice and memorize skills and plays that work - but there’s no guarantees. They need intuition to know when to use certain moves, to have a good defense and follow their gut and deviate from the plan when they think the other team is pulling a new play.

It’s all predictable, but not at the same time. Risks and playing with the odds, yet revolving around something incredibly low stakes like a ball in a net or getting past a painted line on fake grass. It’s also realistic. Sure, there are once in a lifetime passes like the Minnesota Miracle or a ball sinking into the net from a distance unfathomable as the final buzzer sounds - but most of the time, it’s just about who’s the best that day. Who ran faster, who slipped through someone else’s mistake. You like that the players can pour themselves into it and it’s still not going to be a win every time, because it’s just not sometimes, and that’s okay. They lose and they get up and they do it all over again. They also know that if they win, it doesn’t mean they’ll keep doing so without hard work and dedication.

Poetic to your circumstances, really. Steve was just better at the game, and you knew the eventual outcome of your deal with each other. So really, is there anyone to be mad at here other than yourself?

Steve’s laugh echoes down the line and your jaw clenches, because maybe Steve was better at the game, but he certainly wasn’t playing fair.

Yeah, you can still be mad at him.

Your eye twitches as Robin and Leigh gush over horror movies they both love, a breath you didn’t know you were holding leaving you when they head off together for a bathroom break.

His eyes actually burn your cheek from the way they stare down the row in your direction now that he doesn’t have her to focus on. Clear to you now that all you are - all you ever were - is an afterthought, something to pass the time.

Refusing to look his way, you try not to feel bad about the sigh you hear all the way from five seats away.

Oh, I’m sorry Steve, are you mildly upset that I don’t want to talk to you after you got me to open up just to blindside me?

You’re not surprised when a dark denim leg presses against your shoulder, his large brown boots landing on the open seat next to you as he climbs over. As he sits, you stand, quickly making your way down the row, occupying Robin’s empty seat on the other side of Nancy.

Steve stands, hands on his hips as he frowns. “Are you being fucking serious right now?”

Turning your attention back to the field, your knees bounce with restless energy, anticipating his next move. An intricate dance just like the players below you.

Steve climbs back over, and you can’t help but relish a little in his groan and mumbled comment about being twelve under his breath as you shimmy between Eddie and Nancy, shoving Eddie into your old seat, ignoring his grunted protests. Unable to help yourself, you smirk into your beer, watching out of the corner of your eye as Steve’s jaw clenches. Making him irritated seems only fair under the circumstances.

You’re ready for his next attempt, sure he’s going to make Nancy swap with him or come up behind you. So when he puts his foot on the chair, you move to the edge of your seat. Steve pounces, tumbling over the back of the row in front of you instead. He’s breathless, cheeks flushed pink as his hands land on the armrests of your spot. His arms cage you in as he leans over the back of the blue metal chairs, ignoring the grumbled complaints of those he bumped out of the way in his pursuit.

His face fills your vision, freckles that dot the sharp slope of his nose, the light scruff he’s let grow more highlight’s the angle of his jaw and the curve of his cupid’s bow. For a second you forget you’re supposed to be mad when you finally meet his eyes. They steal all of your attention and you hate that you can’t look away.

You hate him.

“We’re gonna talk,” he huffs, catching his breath.

“You should hit the gym.” A sad attempt to change the subject, to hurt him a little. Your eyes flit down to his lips in a mistake. You can’t look at his eyes again so you settle on his cheek, trying your best to ignore the endearing pair of freckles.

“I know you’re mad, and if you just let me explain, I-“

“You’ve had plenty of chances to explain before today Steve!”

The hush of the people around you makes your eyes close, taking a moment for a calming breath. Eddie coughs into his fist on your left and squints at the field, Nancy scratches the denim on her thigh and clears her throat on your right.

Steve’s eyes narrow, his top lip pulls in, tongue licking over it before he lets out a cold laugh, “Jesus Christ, what was I supposed to do, tell you while we’re fucking? Or how about after you told me about your parents? I-“

The beer in your hand splashes across his face as he coughs and sputters. His fingers wipe over his eyes and you stand, pushing past the gawking crowd and down the stairs.

Nancy and Eddie were right.

Steve Harrington is a fucking idiot.

You’d rode the train past your stop twice, both your airpods in and a look about you that dared anyone to even glance at you the wrong way. At the sight of the sun sinking past the horizon, you bite down on your cheek, willing your gut to stop twisting as it attaches a thing you love to him. Steve Harrington was not going to ruin sunsets for you, you draw the line at fucking grilled cheese and football.

The flick of your entryway lamp illuminates your place, the lyrics “You call me strawberry wine…” drift out of your airpod as you remove it from your ear. You’ve had enough of the universe’s poetic irony today. Tossing the case and your keys into their dish as you turn the lock on your door.

The sunset is the least of your worries, what didn’t he touch here? Your door, the coffee mugs he proclaimed as his favorites, the counter, the fire escape. You reach for the bottle of wine on top of your fridge as you click on the Instagram notification.

A caption reading ‘We just hope both teams had fun🏈 ’ below her photos. A selfie first, Robin’s bashful face filling the screen, getting her cheek kissed by Nancy. Another, this one with you - she must have caught it during bags - a shot of Eddie and you mid-laugh. The last one clearly taken after you left, the group in the stands, Steve’s sweater gone, replaced by a dry light blue t-shirt. You click your phone locked again and drink straight out of the bottle as you walk down the dark hallway. Old wood floors creak underneath your feet as you make your way to your room.

Fuck, your room.

It’s a moment that perhaps you should be crying during, do normal people cry when boys like Steve Harrington blindside them? When a man you start to break down for was spooning you fully clothed at the start of the day and getting a beer tossed in his face by the end, shouldn’t some sort of despair come out in the form of dramatic tears? Nothing leaves your eyes though as you strip the sheets off of your bed. Steve’s not worth any. No guy is.

Tugging harshly at the last corner of the fitted sheet with a frustrated grunt, you throw all of your bedding out into the hallway and slam the door. The flutter of paper on your desk as the door swings closed catches your eye, your chest tightens at the realization of what you left there.

The glow from the setting sun outside washes over the photobooth strip as you walk towards it, lit up in a perfect square of tangerine. Your thumb brushes the last photo as you pick it up, wondering how it all went so wrong, so fast.

It rips easier than maybe it should have, diminished to something small and as broken as you can make it before you toss it in the trash in your bathroom. Your eyes linger on the shower curtain and then your shampoo. The wine bottle presses to your lips again as you make a mental note, adding those to your list of things to replace tomorrow as well.

Your phone pings again, the group chat you’ve just been recently added to:

Your thumb presses the lock after turning it to silent, the dots from Robin appearing letting you know you don’t want to keep reading all of them talk. Your bare mattress stares at you as you drink more wine. They’re home. Together? In his apartment? In his bed?

It doesn’t matter, good for Steve, hope he’s happy. Good fucking riddance, right?

Opening your bedroom door, you sigh at the pile of bedding, stepping over it and making your way to your couch. Your protective wall is still standing, your armor dusted off and polished once more. It’s time to pick up the pieces, replace what’s broken, and move on from what others like Eddie may want to tell you is heartbreak, but you would argue is just called life.

And life is pain, and anyone who tells you differently is selling something, right?

Halloween season used to be one of your favorite times of the year. Parties and opportunities to dress up like someone you’re not. Evenings to be a character in a story far different than the one you were living, with lines already planned for you to say, an ending meticulously thought out. Now, however, the red fabric that clings to your body serves only as a reminder of how your life is the furthest thing from picture perfect.

Originally, when you found the dress thrifting with Robin, it had felt a little like fate. A tiny and gentle nudge from the universe in the right direction - a sign. Now, you’re sure it was actually some twisted joke. Someone, somewhere out there, is laughing it up as they play with you like a plastic doll. Because even meeting Robin, a thing you were positive was divine intervention, is now wrapped around him. Some evil force at work as they had you meet her, then him, while they cackled and said ‘Ha! Watch this! This one’ll be good.’

Your costume now a cruel oxymoron - a girl who resents love dressed as someone who cherishes it. Pretending to be a girl who loved a boy endlessly, so devoted, she claimed to die the day he supposedly did. A girl who-

“You know,” a finger pokes your cheek, “For a princess, your sour look is not very princessey.”

Robin raises her eyebrows at you, hands on her hips, orange fabric of her skirt swishing around her thighs as she turns. Her sparkly red turtleneck and shine of her black mary jane’s glint in the strobe lights that are making sweeps over the room.

You try to smile, if only for the fact that Nancy actually got her to wear the costume. Crossing your arms, your eyebrows raise as you respond, “Well, you must be a detective or something, Miss Dinkley.”

Robin rolls her eyes, but fights a smile, fiddling with the magnifying glass in her hands. When you don’t say anything more though, her big blue eyes soften as they glance up at you through fake glasses, and she reaches out and squeezes your shoulder. “Seriously, is everything okay? I feel like…” she trails off, shaking her head, at a loss for words it seems - an unusual thing for her.

The line for the bar shifts forward and you nod, that terrible feeling still sits heavy in your stomach like a bag of rocks - you’re weighed down, to be left at the bottom of your guilt to drown. “I’m fine, Robin,” it slips out when you repeat the words quieter, because maybe if you say it enough times it’ll come true, “I’ll be fine.”

“Aha!” She points a finger in your face, “You just said be fine, implying something is in fact not fine currently and-“

“Robin,” your laugh is unconvincing even to yourself. You rub your temples as you face the bar. “Quit being a meddling kid.”

It’s supposed to be a joke, but it comes out with a little more bite than you intend and her mouth shuts quickly. It’s silent for only a few seconds though, before her shoulder bumps yours. Her question quiet, “How long were you waiting to use that one?”

Your head rests against her shoulder in a silent ‘I’m sorry’, hers against yours in an equally unspoken ‘You’re forgiven’ as you sigh. “Oh, just since you put on the costume.”

She hums and then lifts her head and faces you. “Last thing, and then I’ll drop it, I swear.”

Facing her, you swallow harshly as she stares at you with eyes that feel like they can see everything. Even more so when she says, “I know we haven’t known each other that long, but you’re important to me. And if there’s something going on…” she trails off before smiling sadly and continuing, “You can tell me, okay? You can open up and I’ll probably talk too much and offer too much advice, but comes from a place of love and-“

You hug her tightly, Robin wraps her arms around you just as fiercely as her sentence breaks off. Your response sticks in your throat, an alarming hope of ‘what if I told her?’ rising in you that you need to squash down quickly. She can’t know, despite Nancy’s warning that she should. If she did find out, you’re not certain she’d be on your side anyways. It was all your idea to lie to her, it’s selfish of you to ask her to comfort you in this situation.

Especially after you made her practically drag you to the party tonight. Eventually giving into her puppy dog pout (for a girl who easily falls for it, she has a pretty convincing one herself), your guilt all but consuming you at this point. You could put on a smile, a brave face - you could pretend to be someone you’re not, just tonight, and just for her.

You haven’t seen Steve since the football game, ignoring any sort of notification related to him in your phone. But in the process of trying to remove anything Steve from your life, you’ve removed Robin from it as well - a packaged deal. Each ignored message, each call you watched ring and left unanswered, every dodged lunch, were just more punches to your gut, pieces of your heart ripped off and stepped on. You missed Robin so much, one night out, forced to make small talk with him, was a fair price to pay for the deceit and lies - if it meant you got to see her again.

When you break away from the hug, it’s your turn for the bar finally. Both of your eyes widen at the sight of the specialty drink menu. ‘Bootini’s’ and things like a cocktail called ‘Vampire Kiss’ making both of you frown at the dollar signs next to each. You’re suddenly grateful for the tequila that’s still filling your stomach with warmth and Eddie’s insistence on taking the shots before leaving Nancy’s.

“They do have like, a regular bar, right? Cause your girl is on a budget and…” your sentence trails off as Robin smiles at something, someone, over your shoulder.

“Well, there isn’t much money in revenge.”

His voice alone is enough to make your shoulders go up, to cause your stomach to twist, but when you spin to see him, you know it’s not the tequila making the room feel fuzzy and your stomach heave.

He can’t be serious.

He is not wearing that. He’s not.

“Come up with that all by yourself, did ya?” Robin pats Steve’s shoulder and before he can reply she’s holding up a hand in front of his face, letting out a low whistle. “Hoolly cooww.” She motions for Leigh to spin who blushes and laughs, but obliges as Robin keeps going, “Miss Morticia Addams, if you wanna ditch Dingus here…”

Steve puts his hands on his hips, an edge to his tone you may have found amusing if it wasn’t because of his best friend hitting on his girlfriend. “Seriously, Robin? Are you being serious right now? Where’s Nancy?”

Robin rolls her eyes at him and Leigh laughs more, squeezing his shoulder. “I should be the one saying holy cow! Look at you two! Y/N, where did you find that dress?”

God, you hate that she’s nice.

Her dress is phenomenal. The low cut, black fabric that hugs her curves and drapes over her flattering in a way it simply wouldn’t be on you. She’s got the perfect gauzy sleeves, the rings and red lips and nails, she’s even got a rose and scissors in her hand.

You hate that you want to like this girl.

Your smile is tense, “I, uh-“

The bartender clears her throat and you point, saved by the bell, turning your back on the group. A name of one of the drinks leaves your lips and you’re vaguely aware of Robin saying something about finding the others and to not order her something with whiskey in it because he remembers what happened last time.

The deep breathing through your nose is a sad attempt for composure when you get a longer chance to take Steve in. Even with the dim bar lighting, the mirror behind the shelf of various liquors gives you a perfect view. You’re not sure whether you want to kiss him or punch him.

Steve’s dressed in all black, head to toe, the v-cut of the flowy top revealing quite a bit of his dark chest hair and you swallow, your fingers gripping the edge of the counter. You always hated how Buttercup couldn’t tell it was Westley, in fact, you hate it in any movie when a character has a mask over their eyes and suddenly everyone is unable to tell who they’re dancing with, hell who’s kissing them. If anything, the black band of fabric across his face only makes the lips below and the eyes underneath it stand out more - the curve of his top lip you can still feel under your tongue. The colors of his iris’ so distinctly Steve that you’d recognize anywhere - instead of a sea after a storm, a forest. He really went all out, even his scruff shaved to have a thin mustache, he’s wearing the black cap pushing down his normally styled and perfectly messy hair, and when you glance down, you’re not surprised to find matching pirate boots standing next to you.

His hand reaches across your chest with a matte black card - that kind that isn’t glossy like a normal one and you quickly hand the bartender crumpled bills instead, earning a sigh from Steve.

“You’re not seriously wearing that.” Weeks of no contact, and you hate that your voice doesn’t come out strong and confident when that’s all you can think to say.

Risking a glance his way, you find his eyes are already on you, his jaw clenching before he asks, “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Your inhale is sharp - how can he be this cruel? How can he act like that costume means nothing, or like the last few weeks weren’t awful? Weren’t they awful for him? To go from talking almost every day to nothing?

“Are you fucking kidding me Steve? After everything, after what you said at the game, you’re really gonna stick to not admitting what this is?” Gesturing up and down his body as you ask. He truly can’t be this much of an asshole, he can’t-

Steve shrugs. “I’m just a pirate. I don’t know what your problem is.”

Turns out, he can be.

Before you can even start to formulate something nasty to respond with, a person walking by shouts out, “Oh nice! As you wish, dudes!” Clapping Steve’s shoulder as they waltz past like it’s the 90’s and people still say ‘dudes’ to strangers.

Dude did just make your point for you at least, though.

You hold your hands out to the retreating body in a show of ‘see?’ and then childishly flip Steve off. “The case rests, your honor.”

“It was last minute and I didn’t-”

His weak and pathetic attempts at excuses fall on deaf ears as you push your way through the crowd towards the beacon of red neon announcing an exit for this god forsaken bar.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, but you don’t think it is - screw Steve Harrington for ruining a fucking bar, for ruining the word dude, for ruining The Princess Bride, for ruining everything.

Screw everything.

The sting of rejection and the quiet anger that’s been sitting at a simmer since the game rests over an open flame now. Your insides quickly grow to a rapid boil. Apathy and anger rage for the top spot as everything you’ve tried to keep under a lid steams, ready to overflow and burn.

Ignoring the calls of your name, something still makes it past your seeing red rampage of an exit, connecting the voices, aware of Steve saying something to someone, but you can’t really find it in yourself to care who or what. The cool air hits your body as you push outside, stinging against the damp skin under your eyes.

A hand on your shoulder makes you jump, his voice quiet, “Y/N-“

“Don’t touch me, Steve,” you warn, taking a step backwards after yanking your shoulder from under his fingers. Your hands balled into fists as you spin to look at him.

He runs a hand through his now uncovered hair, face fully revealed without a mask too. He watches you closely, his voice gentle, as he raises his hands up, “Look, I just want to make sure you’re okay. You can-“

“You don’t get to check on me anymore, or worry about if I’m okay, you’re not my boyfriend,” your tone scathing.

Steve’s gaze bounces over your face, his jaw hardens as the vein in his forehead dances. Somehow his voice is soft despite the bite to it, “Yeah, I know. You’ve made that perfectly clear. But I am your friend, and I -“

Your laugh causes him to break off. You gesture inside and then to his outfit. “Friends don’t treat each other this way, Steve.”

He drags his palms down his face, his own disbelieving laugh echoes against the brick of the bar. “Are you kidding me? I have been nothing but your friend! I am sorry about what I said at the game, but really, when was I supposed to tell you? And this costume…I…” He shakes his head, licking his lips as he takes a step closer to you. “Look. I should have told you about Leigh sooner, but if you would have given me five minutes to-“

“Five minutes. A sec.” Your hands move in quotation marks as you recall the conversation he wanted to have at the game too. Your face pinches into an irritated scowl as your hands drop in front of you, palms open. Exasperation laced around your words, “What the fuck is there to explain anymore, Harrington? You’re dating her and you didn’t tell me - the story is over.”

Steve stands just in front of you now, that gravitational pull at silent work again, even weeks apart unable to switch it off. Your bodies move with each other, your voices rise in sync, your chests fall with shared breaths. A different sidewalk, that same feeling of flight or fight, but you know that it’s too late this time. Even turning the heat off isn’t going to fix the damage that’s been done.

Another laugh huffs out of him, “You’d like that, right? That’s it, case closed. Y/N calls the shots and decides everything.” He shakes his head and points to his chest, towering over you, “This is all such total bullshit. You’re mad at me for something that was your idea, because you didn’t get to decide when it was over.” He shrugs, waves of nonchalance carrying his words through the air to hit you hard like a slap across the face. “You’re a spoiled brat who’s mad because you’ve lost a toy.”

Any maturity you attempted to have towards the situation has evaporated.

“Me? The spoiled brat? Excuse me, Mr. 50th floor and Daddy’s Credit Card. Take a look in the fucking mirror, Steve!”

Your chests almost touch with each ragged breath as his hands run through his hair and he pulls. A frustrated groan at your words, while the volume at which his come out becomes louder, “I’ve got plenty of fucking mirrors, why don’t you take your own advice! You’re a hypocrite. You can’t even admit it to yourself, can you? Tell me I’m wrong! Tell me you didn’t ask me for this arrangement. Tell me that the words ‘no feelings’ and ‘just sex’ didn’t leave your mouth. Tell me what you have to be upset with me for then!”

Your chin quivers at his words, the truth of them daring the tears behind your eyes to fall.

Steve gulps, his fingers dance on your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek. His eyes shine with his own held back tears, like he regrets how he said it but not that he did. His voice quiets as he pleads, “Tell me.”

He doesn’t get to look at you like that. He doesn’t get to say those things to you and then look at you like that.

What happened last time Steve Harrington asked you to open up and tell him something?

Tequila lingers on your tongue, aiding in the formation of words that are meant to sting - you want to hurt him like he’s hurting you. You bite down on your jaw, the anger and pain ready to fall down your cheeks as you remove yourself from him.

Your hands press against his chest, “You’re bullshit. This is bullshit.” A small shove as you practically growl the next words, “I’m a hypocrite? How about the fucking bathroom at that party where you told me I couldn’t have it both ways, but then you’re dating someone while getting all jealous?” Another shove, this time his fingers brush your wrists, a halfhearted attempt to get you to stop. “Begging me to open up to you? For fucking what, Steve? This costume? You…” you close your eyes and let your hands drop, letting the words do all the work now, “You’re a liar. You’re an asshole.”

Steve’s head ducks down, his fingers brushing his nose before he rolls his shoulders back. When his mouth opens, you step backwards, shaking your head.

“Lose my number, Steve.”

His eyes roam over your face, waiting, searching. He only nods once and takes his own step back.

“As you wish.”

Your breath sucks in sharply, a sob you’ve been holding in since the moment he said the words ‘Sorry we’re late’ threatens to finally crack out of your chest. You wish you had another beer to toss in his face for using those words at this moment.

It’s not said with the kind of reverence of the movie. There isn’t a narrator to let you know what he actually means by the phrase. But you know. It’s not an ‘I love you’, not like this. No, it’s merely a promise to do as you asked.

All you can do is turn away from him, hold your chin up and roll your shoulders back as you walk down the sidewalk.

There is no hopeful glance back over your shoulder, no loud smacks against the pavement made by his feet chasing after you like in the movies.

Like you said, your story is over.

'One New Voicemail':

“Hey, just thought I’d try ya, I know you’ve been busy. Um, well, Steve and I are heading to the Rocky Horror show tonight and I know he’d love someone to aid in his teasing of how totally into it I get. Right Steve?”

[muffled sounds of movement and whispers]

“Hm…yeah, I uh-”

[a clear smack to his shoulder]

“It feels like forever since I’ve seen you or we’ve done something just the three of us! Anyways, call me back, text me…beep me if you wanna reach me…ugh, sorry that was so lame, okay bye. Love you!”

If you were surviving before them, you could survive without them. It seemed simple enough.

You’ve never stayed in one place for long, friendships like Robin, Eddie, and Nancy had been left before. Friendships that were never given a chance to really even start before you were gone. The promise of any relationships packed into boxes and off to the next city. Addresses and phone numbers and notes of ‘Keep in touch’ left to collect dust until forgotten about completely.

So, it should have been easy to continue to ignore their messages. To ignore the holes in your chest, to ignore the want to call or text one of them when something happened as mundane as a stranger calling another stranger ‘toots’ in your mailroom. If Steve touched things in your life and now caused them to wilt in your memories and sights, the other three made things bloom. They breathed life into you again.

You weren’t going to let Steve Harrington take something like that away from you.

Which is why you found yourself curled into your father’s sweater for courage, walking down the sidewalk towards the cemetery with a promise to meet them there.

Orange and brown leaves crinkle underfoot before they blow across the pavement. The moon is full, the sky that deep indigo it seems to only get this time of year. Both a perfect backdrop for the bare trees that dance in the wind and the blocks lined with homes with glowing porch lights. Orange buckets overflowing with candy rush past in a blur, laughter and squeals of children echoing down the street past you.

As you make it to the black iron fence, your eyes roam the blankets and patrons occupying them in the park next to the cemetery. Apple and brown sugar meet your nose and you take special note of the mini donut booth attached to the scent. Which is where you see Eddie, shoving two in his mouth and rolling his eyes at Nancy. He spots you and grins around the sugary dough, nudging the shoulder to his right and nodding in your direction.

Robin spins and you see her shoulders visibly fall and a grin spread across her face. She says something to the other two who head in the direction of the blankets and she races through the crowd. Muffled oofs and sorry’s meet your ears as she dodges and spins around people balancing concessions.

You reach the front of the line, a sandwich board proudly displaying the original ‘The Evil Dead’ poster sits next to an older woman on a stool at the gate. She smiles at you, holding a flashlight towards the ground. “Ticket, dear?”

“Rose! Rose, she's my girl!” Robin shouts, breathless as she makes it to the gate.

“Oh!” The elderly woman smiles wider, ushering you through, “Have fun ladies! Tell Edward I’m still waiting for my hot chocolate.”

“Yes ma’am.” Robin salutes with two fingers and then grabs you in a hug. “Jesus Christ I missed you!” Her voice is loud and she shrinks in your arms as the lights of the booths go out and the crowd surrounding you turns and shushes. Her voice shifts to a whisper, “Whoops. Come on, we’re towards the back and we still have all the commercials to chat without too many nasty looks.”

Robin holds your arm in a death grip, a silent promise to not let you out of her sights and clutches so long as she can help it again it seems. When you reach the blanket, Nancy and Eddie’s conversation stops abruptly and their smiles seem painted on as they look up at you.

It’s one of those moments, those silences that are too stilted and too abrupt, letting you know exactly what was being discussed just seconds before. You wave a little, ears burning since you have no doubt about who the subject of their interrupted conversation was.

“Eddie,” Robin begins, huffing as she falls to their cushy spot with extra blankets, trays of drinks, and several bags of sweets littered around them, “Rose is fiending.”

“Oh shit!” Ducking and wincing when someone turns around and glares at him. He grabs one of the cups with a big R on top and squeezes your shoulder as he stands, “Be right back! Glad you came!”

Sitting as Robin pats his now empty spot next to her. “Can I get you anything? We have cocoa and cider, donuts, popcorn, candy corn, caramel corn, basically any kind of corn and-“

“Robin,” Nancy hums, almost singing, as she sips from a cup. She squeezes her fingers. “You have to actually take a breath to let her respond.”

“I’ll never say no to a cider or donut,” you point to the items with a laugh.

Robin grabs them and hands it to you. She whacks pillows and squishes around, rolling and frowning and readjusting.

Eventually, she sighs, content, and grabs Nancy’s hand and then a donut from your bag and knocks it against one in your fingers before taking a bite.

“Happy?” Nancy asks as Robin hums around the sugar she licks off of her lips.

“You know it. Only thing that would make tonight better is…” she trails off with a grin.

You take her words as a warning to look around, wondering where he is and mentally preparing yourself.

Nothing could have prepared you though.

It happens quickly and yet not at the same time.

Your head turns to see them walking hand in hand. A swing of fingers as they walk past twinkling lights, the breeze blowing her hair perfectly.

Nancy says “Shit,” under her breath as she sits up. When you turn to look at her with a frown, she opens her mouth but no words come out.

The movie starts.

Eddie slows down as he makes his way back towards the blanket, looking at Nancy then over his shoulder then back at you.

Robin waves her arm too much and you turn to look again, trying to figure out what you’re not getting.

Steve’s eyes meet yours and he stops, tripping over his own shoe.

Leigh waves and something sparkles on her hand in the moonlight.

Robin beams and squeezes your wrist. “Oh my gosh I can’t believe they actually came! I figured with the whole engagement thing they wouldn’t. Now it’s all officially perfect. All my favorite people together on my favorite day.”

Plot twist: Steve Harrington is engaged.

WCIL taglist:

@loveshotzz @myobmaya @sweetsweetjellybean @pastel-pillows @littlesubbyflower @johnricharddeacy @freezaz123 @selfdeprecatingnerd @big-ope-vibes @manda-panda-monium @hellkaisersangel @yogizzz @soulmatecashton @happytimeunicorns @mandyjo8719 @lunarxeclipse @buckleylips @beckkthewreck @differentdeputyfishpaper @supardupar @micheledawn1975 @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sagelittleplace @totally-bogus-timelady @steves-babysitter @fallinginlovewithqueue @aftermidnightwriting @omgshesinsane @pootcullen @definitionwanderlust @nostalgiafool @palmtreesx3 @scoopshxrrington @live-the-fangirl-life @eddiesguitarskills @mannstarkey @keepingitlokiii

#steve harrington #modern!steve harrington #modern!steve #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington series #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #we'll call it love

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