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kayjaywrites · 8 months ago

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Like Bugs in a Rug: Chapter One

Summary: Azriel Shadowsinger, mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, was head over heels in love with you for years. Everyone in the room could see it, except for you of course. A series of connected one-shots.

Chapter Word Count: 6,350 Chapter Music Inspo: End of It - Friday Pilots Club

Chapter Content Warnings: fluff, some cursing, one bed trope, awkward but wholesome communication, AFAB Reader, Reader (You), some details about Reader's appearance but overall vague, canon plot spoilers as this is canon compliant-ish, reader low key being thirsty for Azzie

Note: Hello! Welcome to my first fic in like 10 years! This idea came about when I was having a hard time falling back asleep. I sometimes draft fanfiction when i'm trying to sleep. I don't often remember the plots come morning, but the memory of this one remained intact enough for me to jot down. I’m thinking this update is gonna be the longest chapter because it's both prologue and the first chapter, but I have terrible self control with word count limits. So I guess we’ll see what the next chapters bring, but they may be shorter!

Enjoy me 2am fugue state musings, there are likely typos~

XxXx

Prologue

It was all worth it. The decades of patience and silent suffering. The centuries of loneliness paying off just as you lost hope of ever leaving The Court of Nightmares. You and your father, Kier, expected a typical visit from the Inner Circle. The High Lord would threaten your father to keep him in line, you’d go unnoticed in the back of the throne room monitoring the interaction. Just like every other time they visited.

Except, the High Lord and his Inner Circle asked about you like you were the reason behind their visit. You had clocked the visit as odd as soon as only Rhysand, Feyre, and Mor arrived. The absence of both The General & Shadowsinger at the same time a rarity. Despite being related to Rhysand and Mor, you didn’t think they knew your name, so when they asked Kier about you, by name, your heart damn near fell out of your ass.

They wanted you to leave Hewn City to work with them. A Courtier of the Night Court, working alongside Nesta, Lady Death herself, of all people. They wanted you to start immediately now that the war with Hybern was over. Relations between Courts were strained, and upon learning of your talent, the High Lord deemed it a waste for you to be hidden away down here. He and the Inner Circle believed you did not belong in The Court of Nightmares. To anyone else, having the High Lord speak so highly of your child would have been an honor.

It was the most furious you’d ever seen Kier. Which was saying something. His emotions grew volatile in a blink of an eye, outraged by the absolute gall of the High Lord. How dare he come to his city and tell him that you weren’t meeting your full potential down here? At some point Kier stood up, snarling at Rhysand and the others like a wild animal. Kier, so lost in his anger, let his mental shields falter. Just for a second, but it was more than enough time for your powers to draw his wayward thoughts to you, like a magnet, his unspoken intentions seeped into your own mind. You were always terrible at blocking him out when he got like that.

Power. Kier's thoughts whispered to you. A spy for him in the Inner Circle.

It disgusted you how predictable your father was, his intentions were always about how he could best use you for his own gain. It was the driving force behind your excessive training habits, desperate to protect yourself from the toxicity of his intentions. The more you failed at keeping him out, the more you hated him, and by default hated yourself.

Rhysand was right, you were wasted down here, and it wasn’t that your father didn’t see that, he didn’t care. He wasn’t furious with the High Lord for taking another daughter away from him, he was mad about losing a tool.

Well, your father could rot down here alone for all you cared.

You felt a lot of things in that moment. Intimidated by the prospect of working with Nesta, unsure of Mor’s morals and the rumors surrounding her, apprehensive of Rhysand and Feyre’s power, and not to mention all the unknown dynamics between the rest of the Inner Circle. But, despite all that uncertainty, you did not feel nervous about leaving Hewn City with them.

The first task Kier ever appointed you was to report on Rhysand and his Inner Circle’s intentions every time they visited. Either they all had flawless control over their mental shields, or their icy behavior was an act from the beginning. You never dared to share your suspicions with Kier, your father only wanted ammo for his hate, and he never took kindly to evidence that didn’t support his biases against High Lord Rhysand.

It felt a little too much like blind faith and a hunch for you to be 100% comfortable with the decision, but you decided to put your trust in these strangers anyway.

You would take the job.

Not to be a spy for Kier.

Not out of some duty to your High Lord or older sister.

It was time to live your life for you. Consequences be damned.

But, the focus of this story was not about moving to Velaris with Mor and getting to know the Inner Circle. It wasn’t about how much you rock as a diplomat for the Night Court. It wasn’t about how good it felt the first time sunlight touched your skin upon leaving the underground city. It wasn’t even about how you and Nesta became best friends. However good those stories may be.

However, this story is about Azriel Shadowsinger, and how the mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, fell head over heels for you without you ever picking up on it. Yeah, that’s right, the girl who struggled to control her talent for hearing unspoken intentions never puzzled the pieces together. For literal years everyone else in the godforsaken room could tell the Spymaster was in love with you, except for you.

...one year and a couple months later....

It all started with an argument with Rhysand a few assignments into your career as the Night Court Courtier. You felt like you could handle traveling between Courts without needing an escort, especially if you’d be meeting up with Nesta at the destination anyway. Rhysand did not agree, basically threatening to ground you if you didn’t allow someone to accompany you.

That was how Azriel had become your full-time travel partner. Rhysand appointed Azriel as an additional escort in case Nesta was pulled away.

You’d take this to your grave before ever admitting it, but Rhysand wasn’t wrong to be worried. There had been a good number of times where just that had happened. Nesta would be working the other side of the room, and having Azriel lingering nearby eased your nerves. Prythian was a vast Realm, and Rhys had been right in worrying about your adjustment.

It didn’t take too long for you to adapt once you had visited all the different Courts a few times. Yet, Azriel continued to go out of his way to accompany you to events. The first obvious sign of his affections for you came a little over a year into your career.

The event was in a small Day Court town on the border of the Night Court, just under a day’s travel from Velaris on foot. Home to one of the libraries hit hardest by Amarantha’s looting, the entire town was celebrating the return of a sizable chunk of the stolen volumes. The gala was advertised to be a quaint dinner and cocktail hour. You suspected that scholars and book enthusiasts would be the bulk of those present. Although interested in going, Rhysand had High Lord duties to attend to that involved Nesta and the other Archeron sisters in the Summer Court. With a promise to fill everyone in on anything of interest, you packed a small overnight bag and waited for Mor to arrive home. You never developed the ability to winnow, so you needed someone to bring you.

Fussing with your hair in one of the numerous mirrors decorating Mor’s walls, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. Your time in Velaris, just over two years, had already begun to sooth a deep sadness you hadn’t realized had settled under your skin. It was obvious in the gentle way you gazed at your reflection, the healthy flush of your cheeks, and the warmth of your thoughts. Velaris looked good on you, and as you smoothed a hand down the shimmery sapphire blue fabric of the dress that clung to your curves, you thought the new formalwear looked good on you too.

Giddiness bubbled up in you at the idea of modeling the new dress for Mor. The excitement felt foreign still, after spending centuries believing Mor didn’t care to know her own little sister. You never thought you’d ever get the chance to gush over dresses with her. Kier hated everything Mor represented, and was cruel to her in ways that made you feel lucky in a perverse way. Your father may have manipulated and alienated you, filling your head with lies about your older sister, but it was never public. Kier made sure everyone in the Court of Nightmares knew that Mor was a useless whore and a traitor.

When Mor became a core member of the Inner Circle, and Rhysand put her in charge of Hewn City, you would wait for her to acknowledge you during her visits. Decades turned into a century, but the same hope would always rise up when Mor was due for a visit, only to be crushed when she ignored you. She never paid you a second of her time, just a fleeting look in passing as if you were another spectator. Knowing that she wasn’t ignoring you out of ill intent stung more, because you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her.

Kier may be your father, but that didn’t mean you had to be a fan of his intentions. You never believe the rumors he spread about Mor.

And then, the big reveal came. It turned out that to Mor, you were just another spectator. Mor didn’t know she had a younger sister at all. Keir hid you so well that no one realized you were related to him. A detail that made you feel so small when it came to light. You were just the shy woman in the background, taught to be pleasant when spoken to, a pretty little wallflower the rest of the time.

Later, when you asked about who first realized your identity, you got mixed accounts from the Inner Circle. Rhysand insisted that it was he who put the pieces together first. Stating that it came to him suddenly after Azriel submitted a report from a surveillance mission detailing an overheard conversation between you and Kier about your talents. Rhysand claimed that your powers reminded him of a variation of Mor’s. The rest of the Inner Circle credited Feyre for noting the resemblance between you, Kier, and The Morrigan the first time she noticed you loitering at the back of a council meeting.

When the truth was confirmed, and you agreed to go with them, Mor wept. She vowed to never leave you alone in The Court of Nightmares ever again, even for a second. That promise was your first experience with making a deal in the Night Court. Your clear surprise at the intricate tattoo that branded itself over the center of your sternum clued Mor, Rhysand, and Feyre in on how out of touch you were with common lore from your own Court. Mor wasted no time in winnowing you out of there after that. The both of you had heard enough of Keir’s nasty sneers and low-blow comments to last a lifetime.

Now, Mor’s cozy little home was also your cozy little home, if not a bit tight for two people. If someone asked you a decade ago if you thought you’d ever have a relationship with Mor you would advise them to seek out a healer.

And yet there you were, vibrating with things to tell her, anticipating her arrival with an almost goofy grin when…Azriel of all people winnowed into the living room.

Perplexed, but not totally disappointed, “Oh!” you said, clearly taken aback. “I was expecting Mor.”

Azriel huffed a low chuckle, dimples bracketing his amused half-smile. “Sorry to disappoint.”

You looked him over, dark circles under his eyes, droopy eyelids, posture leaning forward in a slight slouch. “Az, didn’t you just return from a long mission? Why aren’t you resting?”

“Wanted to escort you to the Day Court Library Gala, of course.”

The tenderness in his voice had warmth bubbling up from your chest. “That is very kind,” you started, making sure to meet his gaze so he knew you meant it, “but you look so tired, Az. I’ve visited the Day Court a bunch of times now and only need someone to winnow me there. As much as I enjoy having you accompany me to these things, I don’t want you to stretch yourself thin on my account. I’ve got this.”

“I know you’ve got this,” came his immediate reply, “as you’ve pointed out I’ve been gone for a few weeks. What if I offered to escort you because I missed you, hm?”

Despite yourself you felt a flush of heat in your cheeks at his teasing. You refused to use your powers on anyone in the inner circle, unwilling to violate their privacy without explicit consent. But you didn’t need your powers to read Azriel’s sincerity. It made it hard to meet his gaze, you turned back to running your fingers through your hair in the mirror, taking a moment to compose yourself. “Well alright then, I don’t think I can do anything more to tame my hair, we should be off then.”

You felt Azriel at your back, a gloved hand coming up to gently grasp your elbow, guiding your arm down as his hand trailed down the bare skin of your forearm to hold yours, turning you to face him. “Stop fussing, you look stunning, this dress is new, right? I think the color suits you.”

You smiled. “Thank you, I suppose you would like this color, now that I’m thinking about it,” with your free hand you held up the skirt of the floor length dress to the siphon on his wrist, marveling at the color match, “it looks like I did it on purpose.”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he pulled you closer into an almost embrace. “We should go now. Wouldn’t want to miss the opening speeches.”

You suppressed a shudder. Definitely from the way his breath tickled your ear, and not from the way his voice sounded as he tucked you into his chest. “You hate opening speeches.” You pointed out, remembering all the times he complained about how boring they were.

“I do, but you like them.” You’d never said as much aloud, but you did enjoy listening to people talk about things they were passionate about, and opening speeches tended to be just that. Of course the Spymaster had noticed.

If Azriel saw your smile before you hid your face against his leather-clad pec he didn’t let on. You pulled your hands free and looped your arms around his middle, clasping your fingers together under the base of his wings.

“I’m ready then, thank you for coming with me.” Your voice was muffled, unwilling to tilt your head up to talk to him in case your maddening blush was there. It didn’t seem to matter how many times you winnowed with Az, your whole face would go cherry red. Something Cassian never failed to poke fun at whenever he witnessed it.

Azriel wrapped his arms tightly around you, your body now flush to his. You focused on the sound of his wings rustling as he tucked them in closer. Anything to distract from the way your pulse spiked when you felt his lips brush against the crown of your head, his hold on you gentle, yet firm and protective as darkness folded around the both of you.

XxXx

Neither you nor Azriel realized the issue with your room reservation until much too late. Upon arrival in The Day Court the both of you hurried to the event. The gala wrapped up around midnight, and like most of the other guests staying in town, you and Azriel retired back to the nearby Inn. With your strappy heels in hand and a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, you felt positively bubbly. Paused in front of your room, you let Azriel rummage through the small black purse at your side for the key. After almost leading them into the wrong room, Azriel took it upon himself to find the correct room and unlock the door.

Minutes later you were still trying to suppress a smile at how Azriel reacted with such mortification when he realized you’d led them to the wrong room. The mental image of the great Shadowsinger so frantic in his efforts to stop you from further jostling the doorknob, had you letting out a laugh before you could stop it.

“It’s not funny.” He grumbled as he swung the wooden door to your room open, leading you inside. You were on the verge of poking fun at him some more when you caught a glimpse of the interior layout. Right, you had RSVP’d expecting to attend the gala alone. The realization sobered you up real fast.

The room was small, burgundy curtains concealing a sizable window, antique desk with tourist flyers stacked in a neat pile on top. A queen sized, four post bed situated in the middle of the room.

“I’ll take the floor—” Azriel started saying.

But you interrupted him. “—you should have the bed.”

“Absolutely not, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady sleep on the floor while I hogged the whole bed.” He nodded, as if the conversation was over, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at him.

“There’s not even enough space on the floor for you to stretch out Az. The room is basically only bed. It’s fine, I can use my extra clothes—”

You inhaled sharply, tensing at the thought of your overnight bag, left forgotten back at Mor's apartment. Your eyes darted to Azriel, meeting his gaze out of the corner of your eye, and you knew you didn’t need to say anything about it as he scoffed under his breath.

“You forgot your bag.” He observed.

Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair, your tight dress feeling like it was constricting around your chest as you contemplated sleeping in it. “I did indeed forget my bag.”

“We could just go back, we don’t have to stay here for the night.” Azriel pointed out, but the thought of cutting the trip short caused a ripple of disappointment to drop in your stomach.

“Or,” he continued with a hint of amusement, “I have an undershirt beneath my leathers. I changed before I met you at Mor’s, so it’s relatively clean. I was going to sleep in it tonight, but I would sacrifice my shirt for you if it meant you’d stop frowning like that.”

If you thought you were anxious before, Azriel’s suggestion sent your anxiety through the roof. You had always found Azriel attractive, even when you were still living in Hewn City. Who wouldn’t? That attraction grew into a bit of a crush when you first arrived in Velaris. He treated you with such care as you adjusted to living above ground, quiet, patient, and thoughtful.

Once it was apparent that you would be working closely with him you shut that shit down. You and him had spent a lot of time traveling together the last few years, always with separate sleeping arrangements, and never sharing clothing. You went out of your way to respect his privacy, give him space, all in hopes of being someone he one day could trust, like how you trusted him.

You could handle one night, sharing a bed, borrowing his shirt. That wouldn’t totally backfire on you in any way, right? Nodding to yourself once, you tried for an air of confidence as you talked around the nerves that have bloomed in your chest.

“Okay,” you agreed, “but if I change into your shirt you definitely can’t take the floor. I won’t let you sleep shirtless on the ground while I’m all tucked in and cozy in bed. I’ll only take up a sliver of it by myself anyway.”

He opened his mouth to object, his intentions written in the way his brow furrowed at you. But you barreled on anyway, “So, we share the bed tonight. Are you comfortable with that?”

His mouth snapped shut, eyes studying you for a tense moment as if you may be tricking him. You clasped your hands together in front of you, the longer you waited for him to respond the clammier your palms felt. Each second felt like an eternity and in no time at all you found yourself scrambling for a way to play off your idea as a joke.

Of course he wouldn’t want to share a bed with you. What in the world had you been thinking?

Maybe you could blame it on that deliciously fizzy drink you downed before leaving the gala, say you weren’t in your right mind. Pretend to not remember in the morning, as if this wasn’t going to be a moment you cringe about decades later. Would you be able to just laugh it off? Would Azriel be chill enough to let you live this down? You were probably so screwed.

He was still a little tense, but just before your panic truly took root Azriel began to nod his head like he...agreed with you?

“Yes, I think that is the most logical solution. The bed can definitely fit two.” Azriel finally said, and you tried to keep yourself from gaping at his response. But your surprise must have been all over your face because he went on to say, “I didn’t suggest it myself because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Wiping your hands down the front of your dress did little to help with the sweat. The pit that had been taking form in your stomach churned, your dread morphing into jittery nerves.

Then, as if you weren’t having a nervous breakdown right in front of him, the handsome lunatic started striping his leathers off. Dept hands tossing his gloves to the desk, he unclasped the chest pieces of his leathers, they fell to the floor with a thud. Then, the promised black undershirt was up over his head, and you were drinking in all his tattoos and corded muscles like you were a tactless teenager instead of a 300+ year old female.

A flash of movement from him, and you flinched when his shirt hit you square in the face. It was so big it draped over your head. You made a disgruntled noise, ignoring how delicious the shirt smelled as you removed it from your face, “Hey—!”

“If you’re done gawking at me like you’ve never seen a shirtless male, you can get ready for bed first.” He headed further into the room, collecting his chest piece off the floor and approaching the desk to place it with his gloves. He turned to face you, his butt propped against the desk as he gestured to the door his wingspan had been blocking from view. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, flexing his biceps, and you almost swooned at the sight. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Your fist tightened around the shirt, fighting the urge to toss it back at him out of spite. Embarrassment felt like hot iron under your skin, so instead you snapped your attention to the door he had pointed out–the bathroom. You knew you’d averted your gaze much too fast to seem unaffected by him. He chuckled, and you glowered at him as his head tilted to the side, watching you with a bemused expression. He looked about ready to comment further, but you waved him off with faux-annoyance and an exaggerated roll of your eyes. Clutching his shirt close to your chest, you escaped into the bathroom.

Subtle.

Pressing your back to the door, it closed under your weight. You paused there for a moment to focus on your breathing, your frazzled mind going a mile a minute. This was all so far out of your comfort zone, it wasn’t even funny. You never had to deal with handsome males in The Court of Nightmares, Kier didn’t let you socialize long enough for it to even be on your radar. Dating hadn’t quite made your list of top priorities upon arriving in Velaris either.

What little experience you did have was with a male named Allistair. You’d met him at Rita’s within your first year above ground. It was a fling of sorts that lasted a few months before you decided casual dating wasn’t for you. He was a perfectly adequate lover. At least you think he was. He was also your only lover. A nice enough companion as you acclimated to your new life. The times you had been intimate with that male had left you feeling…bereft. Seeing Allistair shirtless had been nothing like seeing Azriel shirtless.

And Azriel calling you out for ogling him so blatantly? Mother have mercy.

So now you were just expected to fall asleep next to him wearing his shirt after that? The situation almost made you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The last thing you wanted was to draw his suspicion by loitering against the door for too much longer, so you moved to the sink. Maybe splashing lukewarm water on your face would reveal that this had all been a weird ass nightmare.

Cupping water into your face a couple more times, you took in the smeared makeup dripping down your face in the mirror. Definitely not a dream.

Azriel was going to think you were in love with him for fucksake.

Snatching the nearby hand towel from the rack on the wall you soaked it, and got to work on scrubbing your face clean. You had to have a little more faith in Azriel. He wouldn’t let a single weird moment ruin over a year of amicable teamwork. But your personal relationship with him felt fragile to you at best. You can't let some tattoos and abs mess up what you considered to be the most solid friendship you’d made among the Inner Circle.

So what if he was hot as hell? You could co-exist with attractive people, it was legit a part of your job. You could salvage the situation, just change out of the dress you accidentally matched to the colors of his siphons, put his shirt on that smelled so strongly of him it gave you a headrush, and face him like you hadn't just been drooling over his naked chest.

You know, simple.

The hem of his t-shirt landed just above your knees, and the comfort you found in it was criminal. The black fabric was very soft and so baggy that you worried the wing slits in the back would shift forward in your sleep. It could reveal a little more than what you’d considered 'tasteful side boob'.

Resisting the urge to fuss in the mirror (because it wasn't like you were trying to look cute for anyone, right?), you exited the bathroom clean faced and a bit more settled than when you had entered.

Your bravado, however, was short lived. Azriel faced away from you in only his underwear, the rest of his leathers added to the pile on the desk. He was organizing his various knives on the bedside table closest to the main door.

He looked over his shoulder at you. Totally not catching you checking out his butt in the tight underpants. Cauldron boil you. Would it be weird if you marched yourself back into the bathroom to try the whole “not affected by sexy, almost nude Illyrian warrior” thing again?

Azriel inhaled sharply, and you snuck a glance at him. His attention was back on his knives, but there was a tension to him, almost like he was brooding. There might have been a light blush over his cheeks, but you felt weird analyzing him anymore than you already had out of habit. You clocked the change in his body language for what it was the instant he saw you in his shirt. Clenched jaw, tense shoulders, spine ramrod straight, wide eyed before averting his gaze, elevated heart rate–classic signs of attraction. Reactions he clearly didn’t want you to notice.

"I'm taking this side." He informed almost absently, patting the mattress. Leaving you with the window side.

You wandered to the desk to avoid observing him further, wishing that you could turn off the part of you that always seemed to be prying for more information. And then you felt it, his thoughts getting louder, his emotions growing wilder, reaching out to you. You slammed your mental shields up hard, a gross feeling taking root when it was too late.

Protect. Azriel’s intentions conveyed to you. Protect. Comfort. Provide. Here you were invading his private thoughts without his knowledge, while he was concerned with your wellbeing. What was the point of all that effort Rhysand put into teaching you how to better control your mental shields? It never worked when you needed it most. The failure stung, and you had to busy yourself with folding your dress in a neat square so you had something to keep your hands from shaking.

It was quiet for too long, and you struggled with recalling what he had said to you before you’d lost control. Something about the bed. "Sounds good to me." You decide on saying, placing your dress next to his leathers.

Azriel didn’t seem to find your reply out of the ordinary. Small mercies.

"I'll be out in a few minutes, then." His voice was rougher than before, and it sent chills down your spine. As soon as you heard the bathroom door click shut you scurried into bed. You couldn’t get under the covers fast enough, pulling the blankets up to your neck with a hefty sigh of relief.

It felt awesome to be laying down after such a long evening on your feet. Too bad you couldn’t enjoy it more, instead drowning under waves of shame. Maybe you’d never get a full handle on your powers. Maybe the Mother was teaching you a lesson in this life? You couldn’t fathom what the moral could be. You wanted more than anything to be able to mind your business.

You wished you could turn your brain off. Alas, even your guilt couldn’t stop you from reflecting and organizing what you’d just observed. Not only had you heard his intentions, but you also felt them. Unlike the sweet warmth of his thoughts, his gaze had felt like desire and bad decisions.

He didn’t seem like he was actively seeking to bed you. You reasoned that you were also an available female wearing nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties. You could only imagine how all of that must have chafed against his Illyrian instincts. Rhysand had once mentioned that Illyrians were possessive and protective at best, controlling and jealous at their worst.

Surely those possessive instincts were what you were picking up on, then. You were covered in his scent after all. That was the only logical explanation for his reaction, his instincts were telling him to protect you because you were vulnerable and wearing his clothing. Even if it didn’t quite sound right to you, it was the only explanation you were willing to entertain. You were barely friends, there was no way Azriel wanted to court you. The thought sent a fleeting pang of disappointment through you that you refused to examine.

Whatever. There wasn’t anything you could do to make the situation less messy right now. You were exhausted, and stewing on scenarios that would never amount to anything real was unlike you.

Snuggling further into the sheets, you decided it was best to just pretend you hadn’t noticed shit. The damage was done, Azriel wasn’t dumb, he at least knew he had flustered you. You weren’t going to draw any more attention to that tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever. Everything about this night was a fluke.

Azriel returned from the bathroom, and you kept your focus on fluffing your pillows. Sitting up you tossed an extra pillow onto the floor, and you could feel as soon as his eyes landed on you that some of his…instincts…were still acting up. You pulled the comforter back up to your neck as he got into bed next to you. Turning on your side to face him you were determined to be normal. No more awkward gawking allowed tonight.

He stretched his arms up above his head, his joints popping a million times as he groaned in relief. You couldn't help chuckling at him, the fearsome Shadowsinger of the Night Court, doing something so mundane.

Scooting further onto the bed, Azriel rolled over to meet your gaze, his wings tucked close to his back as he settled. Most of his wingspan spilled over the side of the bed anyway. He surveyed you, eyes lingering along your tired but genuine smile, and you saw the stern tenseness slowly leave his body. "You sure you're comfortable with this?" He asked.

Your smile turned a tad warmer. This male was just so kind, so different from what you knew in Hewn City. "I am, I trust you Azriel." It was the truth. You didn't have friends growing up, and although you may have a long way to go before Azriel truly called you his friend, you considered him a dear (sexy) friend.

Your words seem to settle something in him, and you could have sworn you saw something almost affectionate flash across his face. You blink, and it's gone, but the fuzzy feeling it left in your chest remained.

Like he sensed your mushy thoughts, he ruined the moment. "So I have to ask you something, it’s serious.”

Your brows raised in bemused interest, the scenario with him wishing to court you snapping to the forefront of your mind again. He’d always been very attentive to you, but in a worried protective way. You’d never picked up on any romantic intentions from him before, and he’s not the type to make a decision like that on a whim. The chance was small, but you couldn’t 100% rule out him wanting to ask you out. Could you say no to him? Would you even want to say no? You’d never considered this as an option before!

He held your gaze, as if for dramatic effect and then with the seriousness of a top notch spymaster he asked you, “You have seen a shirtless male before...right?"

Maybe it was a mistake to consider this male kind, he was a menace all along.

You had never rolled your eyes so hard at someone. Unbelievable.

Turning away from him with enough force to toss your hair in his face, you are rewarded with the sound of his indignant grunt.

"Can you turn the light off please?" You snap, unable to rein in your annoyance. Unsettled by how it tasted almost like rejection.

"You didn't answer my question." He goaded, and you fell right for it.

"Yeah, because it's a silly question." You fire back.

He hummed at your response, "Doesn't seem like you think it's a silly question."

You would rather swallow your own tongue than admit to Azriel that you’d seen shirtless males, but he had been the first you’d enjoyed seeing shirtless.

Done with the line of questioning, you blindly flung your arm back, swatting at him. He startled at the contact, and he exhaled a scoff when you didn't stop flopping your arm at him after the first blow.

He caught your wrist, stilling your flailing. "Fine, fine, I'll drop it," He let go of your wrist, “for now.”

You shifted to burrow further into your pillows, totally not dwelling on how his big hand wrapped around your wrist made you feel dainty. The texture of his scars hadn’t made your heart skip a beat either. Nope. Not at all.

"Could you shut the light off please." You asked again with more venom than you intended. It bothered you how easy this male could get under your skin. He wasn’t even trying.

You felt his weight shifting, the bed frame squeaking a bit as he moved. "Anything for you, Princess." He shuffled a little more, and then the light went off, casting the both of you in darkness.

The nickname made you grimace into your pillow. No one had ever called you that before, and you really didn’t want it to catch on.

You felt him return to the position on his side facing you. Some moments passed in loud silence, and although you were the one that let the conversation drop, the residual tension in the room was killing you. There was no way you would be able to fall asleep, and you would bet that Azriel was stewing in the tension too.

"Az?" You whispered. His response was quick like he’d been waiting on edge for you to speak, "Yes?"

"Goodnight." And you found yourself meaning it. You hoped he got some sleep tonight despite the turmoil he had so effortlessly sowed in your stomach with his teasing. The prick.

You could practically hear the mischief in his voice. "Sleep well, princess."

Ugh. Your stomach coiled, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. Very dangerous. It was an inappropriate reaction, and you wrote it off as stress. However as hard as you wished to forget it, you wouldn’t be forgetting how Azriel had made you feel that night anytime soon.

Even your racing thoughts couldn’t stop sleep from finding you, putting you out of your misery.

And if you woke up to the sounds of song birds that morning, your face pressed against Azriel's neck, your body sprawled atop him while he slept on his back, then that was your business. No one would know if you relished being in his arms a few minutes longer than necessary. You wouldn’t confirm nor deny if one of his hands had looped through a wing hole of his borrowed shirt, his fingers resting just under your breast.

And so what if it had been the best sleep you'd gotten since leaving Hewn City. And if Azriel seemed more well rested than usual on your return to the Night Court, you certainly didn't notice that either.

XxXx

Next Chapter

#azriel x reader #acotar #azriel x you #friends to lovers #slow burn #one bed trope #one shot #one shot series #azriel #my writing #kayjaywrites #like bugs in a rug

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liillyliilly · 4 months ago

Text

Halo

oikawa tooru x reader words; 10249 synopsis; He'd always been in love with her, it just took her a long time to feel the same.

When Oikawa was sixteen, she was eighteen.

“I swear you have a halo, just look at the way the sun curls itself around the edges of your hair. You have a halo around you.” She sat next to Oikawa and used her hands to create an imitation of a camera or frame that focused on how the sun backlit Oikawa.

The greenery of the hill they were pausing at, resting from a walk, was vibrant. The breeze filtered through the blades of grass and made a scent of earth linger around them. A setting sun was the backdrop of their conversation, she used it to flatter him.

He was so annoyed with her when she did that, his ambition was overwhelming for those around him but it never scared her off from him.

He wonders when that would change. It was a thought that remained; when would he cross a line and she would view his hunger as repulsive instead of laudable?

Oikawa scoffs, “You may think I’m an angel, but in reality, I’m just a drop in the ocean. Nothing special. One amongst many.”

“But just being counted among those many is still special. If the ocean didn’t have millions of small drops contributing and doing their part it wouldn’t exist in the first place.”

He bites his tongue. His deflections never worked on her.

She was older than him by two years, and she was best friends with his older sister. Oikawa also claimed her as a best friend.

Despite her being the younger of the duo, she was an outstanding example of poise and maturity in contrast to his older sister who was more like him, rash and immature. Oikawa could care less for his older sister’s other friends, but he loved it when she would come around. She could turn any moment into something special and memorable for him.

The halo moment with her happened when he started high school, while she was beginning the end of her journey in high school as a third-year student. His sister had already moved out and was living with her fiance.

While it was annoying that the older Oikawa sibling had asked her to watch over him, he didn’t mind her walking him to school in the mornings and her waiting at his volleyball practices to take him back home. She would always do homework or sit outside the gym and read with her headphones on.

“Let’s keep going, your mom is making katsu curry tonight.” She brushes off some grass from her school uniform, reaching out a hand for Oikawa to take so she can pull him up from the ground. He did have a halo in her eyes.

He tugs her back down, so she’s almost in his lap, “Ten more minutes.”

He likes it when she’s close to him. He’s sixteen, but he hopes that she could see beyond that. He hopes she doesn’t make this year the year she gets a boyfriend. She’s gone on dates with younger guys before, albeit, only one year younger than her. Maybe she’d make an exception for a two-year gap.

She takes her hand back from him and shoves him playfully. “You have five minutes and then we need to go.” He nods his head, staring at the mountain range that sits nearby.

She sighed, and laid back onto the ground, hands behind her head and legs crossed over each other. Her eyes were closed and she was soaking in the way the air cooled down slowly but surely as each second passed and night overtook day.

Oikawa tilted his head, resting his temple against folded arms that were lying on his knees that he had pulled up close to his chest. He just watched her.

When he was seven, she was nine. He’d felt ill when he heard that she’d be going camping instead of coming over to his house to spend time with his sister for an entire week. Just the thought of her being gone was agonizing.

That’s why during family dinner he declares a plan.

“I’m going to ask her to run away with me. It’s the only solution.” His face is covered in food and his mouth is full of mashed potatoes.

The older sister spits out her apple juice and laughs loudly. The mom chuckles from behind her napkin. She reaches over and touches Oikawa’s arm, “Honey, she’ll be gone for a week, and then back to keep playing for the rest of the summer break.”

Oikawa drags his hand down his face and complains. “That’s too long.”

His sister perks up and starts picking a fight with him, “You just want her not to leave so you can keep staring at her when she comes over here.” She makes a kissing face and puts her hands on her cheeks.

He turns red, calling for his mom to see what his sister is doing to him. Oikawa’s mom spent most of that week counting down the days until the soothing presence of a nine-year-old girl returned from camping in the woods.

Oikawa had spiraled down to the depths of volleyball sooner rather than later.

If he wanted to be the best, then he’d need to work harder than everyone else. Hours poured into practice, studying, focusing his lens on only volleyball.

In his second year of high school, he sustained a knee injury. He bottled it in. For a sport that was meant to be so much fun, he was in agony over his incapabilities at that moment. You play a sport for fun, you enjoy something for the love of it. If that was the case then why did he feel so utterly destroyed?

It wouldn’t be a problem, but when his mom took him to the doctor, the doctor said it was a stress fracture. He’d been playing too intensively for too long and would need a few months of recovery if he wanted to play the rest of the season. The antiseptic environment struck him as unloving. Medicine never understood the reality of sports, the deep driving passion that wasn’t bound by science.

Even if he couldn’t do serves or jumps, he could still run. He could still stay up late watching games of his opponents. He could still linger around practices and work on his tosses. He broke some rules and did receiving practices as well. But he made sure to take Mondays off, he only did low-intensive workouts on Mondays, long walks, and extensive stretching.

Maybe it was his fault for being addicted to volleyball.

His mom called her over one night when he refused to respond to his mom’s requests for him to go to sleep. She was at college now, her first year. She enjoyed what she was studying, and she liked that she had freedom. There was still a sense of responsibility for Oikawa Tooru that she carried.

Her best friend was married now and had given birth to Takeru who was growing up faster than expected.

When she got the call asking if there was anything she could do or say to get Oikawa out of his funk, she drove over and told the worried mom to go to bed, and that she could handle it.

Could she handle him, could she mitigate the tension in his soul? She knew that Oikawa loved volleyball and that his injury had made him bitter. When his actions began to worry others though, she drew a line there. Nothing was worth the hurt of worrying.

She knocked on his door, but he didn’t respond. She opened the door, and saw him at his desk, pen in hand taking notes of a volleyball video. It was of him playing against a rival school, each time he saw something he didn’t like he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and gritted his teeth.

She picked up his desk clock. Lightly beginning her approach to tell him to back down from his focus, “You never seem to look at the clock anymore, it’s nearly two in the morning. Tooru, you’re going to make yourself sick with all the time you spend watching those videos.” She tried to get him to look at the timekeeper in her hand. He pushed it away and she set it back on the counter.

The prodding she performed struck a cord in him.

“I can’t practice? I can’t analyze games? Do you want me to be a bad volleyball player?” Oikawa set the pen down, rubbing his eyes which felt dry and strained. The words he intended to come out as inquisitive came out accusingly instead.

“That’s not what I’m saying at all. You need to incorporate more moderation into your life. This obsessive hyperfixation on the gap between your dreams and current reality is driving you to the brink.” She rubbed a hand on his shoulder, trying to lull him away from the desk and towards his bed.

There was no use in focusing so intensely on the gaps between desire and truth. She thought he would see reason. She wanted him to understand that he needed to recover more fully before diving back into volleyball. There was nothing more important to her than helping him find out that life isn’t built upon strenuous achievement to get to the end, because the goal line was always being moved. How could Oikawa expect to get anything accomplished if the footing he was gaining would keep changing?

Oikawa slinks away, pulling his chair closer to the desk, and his face closer to the screen, “It’s the dreamer and reality face-off. And I’m losing. I’m losing and you can’t see it.”

She leans over and shuts his laptop, he spins around to her with a scowl. She puts her hands on each of the arms on his chair, boxing him in with her surrounding him from all sides.

“You are losing. You’re losing yourself. Tooru, you’re losing because you aren’t taking a step back to enjoy life right now. You think you’re losing, but no one else is playing this game with you.” She moves a hand and points to his bed, “Get out of this chair and go to bed, you dumbass.”

He feels bad that she’s here instead of in her bed sleeping. Her hair was messy and riddled with tiredness, her clothes were pajamas with a jacket over the top.

She was wearing the sandals that she got during a trip his family had taken that she went along with. When she was busy splashing around in the ocean with his big sister, he sat on a towel watching the way the water made her glow from the sun’s reflection on her skin. If only he’d gotten in the water instead of playing by himself and tossing volleyballs into the air, trying to reach the sunlight from his place in the sand.

He mumbles an agreement to her request, going to his bathroom to brush his teeth while she watches from the doorframe.

Clambering into his bed, Oikawa wraps himself in his blankets and ignores the way his body tenses up at first, but slowly eases into laying down on his bed.

There wasn’t a move from her to leave his room quite yet, but she was yawning. When she made a step forward, she stumbled a little.

He leaned up and spoke, “Can you even drive?”

Swallowing, she replies, “I’ll probably just sleep in my car, I thought I wasn’t that tired when I drove over here.” Another yawn she tries to muffle is released.

Oikawa grabs a pillow that was wedged in between his bed and the wall that it was against. He moves closer to the wall, trying to make room for her.

“Just stay.” With me.

She purses her lips. He’s still a child. He may be seventeen but he’s a child and he doesn’t know what he wants, that was her thought process. She was nineteen, she had to be the realistic one, a girl who didn’t give any kind of fake chance or inclination that would reciprocate feelings.

“I’ll see you later, Tooru. Don’t cause any more problems for your mom.”

She leaves, and he’s sitting up in his bed, hands curled up in his sheets, watching her leave.

It’s almost like she’s always the one to leave, she’s the one who puts the distance that he despises. He feels reduced to a kid. Like he’s a child that needs to be coddled and watched over. Although, he supposes his behavior did warrant a need for a babysitter.

When he was fourteen, she was sixteen. Blossoming into a young woman might have gone under the radar when it was his sister, but when it was her, he couldn’t think of anything else.

How could he think of anything else when she was right there sitting on the sidewalk making chalk drawings in a tank top and shorts? Her thighs had streaks of blue over them, and the legs of her shorts had handprints from where she rubbed off the excess chalk dust.

“Oi, Tooru! Come look at this!” She waved her hand so he’d move from his place on the porch to where she was sitting on the pavement. That’s when he noticed she’d accidentally gotten chalk handprints on the sides of her chest, standing out against the black spaghetti strap tank top. After he saw the chalk marks, naturally his eyes scanned the rest of her chest.

He almost chokes on his saliva, sticking his feet onto the panels of the front porch. “I, um, I’m good right where I am actually.” Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead and he silently prayed that his body would relax instead of shooting hot rushing blood through his body. He leaned back into the bench, trying to sink into it.

His sister knew better than that though, “Oh really? But she really wants you.” His sister had to have been pure evil, “She wants you to come over.” The slight pause between ‘come’ and ‘over’ went unnoticed by her but Oikawa hung onto the words like monkey bars.

“No, I’m sure I’m good.” He lets out a blase whistle, trying to think of anything but her body.

She throws him a thumbs up, “Sounds good.” When she goes back to drawing, her best friend leans into her ear. The laugh Oikawa’s sister lets out shocks his focus back to the pair of them.

Her eyes were darting anywhere but him and she was using a hand to slightly cover her face, using her other hand to bring the front of her top up a little more. He could’ve passed away from mortification right then and there.

When the pair of friends finally came back into the house, and Oikawa was playing video games with Iwaizumi who had come over, his ears were burning. She leaned into the living room to see what game they were playing, giving her input on the game, “Mario Kart is the best.” Her little chuckles at the way Iwaizumi was goading Oikawa had him addicted.

She laughed when Oikawa spun out of the track from spending just a little too much time looking at her rather than the screen.

Iwaizumi had left the house after an hour or so, and Oikawa’s sister was taking her turn in the tub. She was staying the night for a sleepover, waiting in the living room. Oikawa had forgotten to clean up the controllers so his mom told him to go clean up the TV area, only to be faced with her playing on her flip phone in the center of the couch.

He tried to pivot to avoid any more embarrassing exchanges between the two of them, but she told him to freeze where he was.

“Sit down.” She patted the space next to her.

Sitting down, he attempted to leave a huge canyon width of space.

She cleared her throat, “It’s okay that you think I’m attractive. Don’t be ashamed at all, it's perfectly fine and natural. As much as your sister does tease you, don’t let it make you feel gross or anything.”

He covered his face with his hands and groaned a little. The fact that they were even having this conversation made him want to go back in time and tell his parents to never have kids.

“You’re cute.” She ruffled his hair.

He blinked a few times and felt confidence flood in. “You think I’m cute?”

“Sure, you got pretty eyes and your hair is always super soft.” She crossed her legs, still messing with his hair as he slowly reclined on the couch.

Oikawa figures he’d been teased enough for one day, so it wouldn’t hurt to be just a little flirty back. “I think you should always have your hands in my hair. Feels like heaven.”

Her laughs run around his head before settling into his heart. “I’ll see what I can do about that then.”

“Great, that way I don’t have to ask you. You can just see me and know I want you to run your hands through my soft hair by default.” He wiggled his head a little from side to side, amplifying his attempt at charisma.

She just smiled at him in response.

Repressed feelings and self-loathing were most likely why his next fit was so soon after she had first pried him away from his screen during his second year. It was now nearing the end of his second year, and his injury had mostly recovered, it would never be the same knee, but it would function close to regularly again.

Much too late at night, once again, she’s knocking on his bedroom door, and he’s watching volleyball. Her voice is scratchy from a concert she attended the day before, with some guy who liked the same music as her. Oikawa never understood why people would want to date those who had the same music tastes. Maybe it was because he didn’t care all that much for music.

Iwaizumi was a music lover, and Oikawa just listened to whatever Iwaizumi played. Oikawa liked her music though. It was usually the sad kind of piano music. Her other favorite type of music was the kind of music that screams out into the universe and declares, no, demands, a presence.

She sounded scared. “Tooru. Open the door. I can hear your counterclock ticking. I’m listening to the ticking of the clock and I can’t hear you at all.” She wonders if he had escaped out the window to make stupid and rash teenage mistakes.

He sighed deeply, hoping she would hear that. She does. Oikawa had failed to make it to Nationals yet again, he had spent too much time this year working for his team to make it.

Ushijima had gone up to him and told him that Oikawa would have a better chance at making it further if he’d joined a different school. Ushijima knew nothing. Oikawa knew he was a good player, but why did every attempt to advance become reduced to another failure? Oikawa wanted to win with his team, with Iwaizumi, Takahiro, and Matsukawa. They were his team and Oikawa wanted to provide them an opportunity unlike any other.

It was an insult that Ushijima presented. The conditional offer to conceptualize the fact that Oikawa was not enough to bring his team through the games to a victory. That he couldn’t magically make a chance for them to fight on the main stage at Nationals. Ushijima had essentially told Oikawa that Oikawa was a talentless, worthless player, and if he wanted to win then he would’ve needed to join a team that could win with or without him. Oikawa was an inconsequential factor in the game of volleyball.

At least, that was how Oikawa interpreted the discussion with Ushijima after the tournament.

He’d have to work harder, he reasoned.

The door isn’t locked, so she finally enters. It isn’t quite as late as midnight, but it’s dark outside and the shadows slink into his room through the window. The moon casts a light in the center of his room.

He’s not sure if he’s crying or not. He’s cross-legged on his bed.

“Hey.” She scrutinizes his face, she can’t determine if she sees tears or if it's just the reminiscence of fear on his face. He makes a noise of acknowledgment. She sits on the corner of his bed.

He pours out his thoughts. The conversation with Ushijima, the way he feels his team looked at him, the way he hated his knee for being a physical reminder of his lack of talent.

She puts a hand on his face, guiding him to look at her.

“Do I see tears? Or is it just that the fear dwelling within you is making an annoying appearance again?” He shakes his head and uses his hand to wipe away at his face in case there are tears. Her thumb traces the bridge of his nose.

Anyone could tell that he seemed scared. But it was a deeper worry than just scared, it was a deep-rooted fear of lacking the abilities to be a good volleyball player. The ego he held close to his lungs was shattering and leaving shards, affecting his breathing.

He knew his internal locus of control wasn’t enough. He wanted to control more than was within his ability. Oikawa wanted the world on his shoulders, but he could barely balance it with open hands.

His chest starts to heave again, and his bottom lip wavers. She tries to shush him, but he lets out a strangled sob. Pulling him into her, she runs a hand on his head, soothing him by running her hand through his hair. She just keeps saying his name, pressing light kisses to the top of his head. The front of her shirt was covered in wet spots from how he had his face in her neck.

Shakily, he brings her into his lap, wraps his arms around her, and hugs her tightly.

“I’m sorry.” He kisses her with his whole heart, bumping their noses into each other. He kisses with too much force, but it conveys all the feelings he has. Love, pain, turmoil, affection.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He leans in again, but she puts a hand on his chest, putting space between them.

Patting his head, she tells him that she has to go back home. She thought that he just needed to get the kiss out of his system and that it didn’t mean anything.

When she pulls out of the driveway he yells into his pillow. His mom comes into his room and sees him hugging himself. Oikawa’s mom decides to leave well enough alone. She had only come to check on him again because Oikawa’s mom had asked, but it was all dependent on Oikawa and how he took what she said or did.

They never talk about the kiss in person. Oikawa thinks about it every day. It crosses her mind frequently enough to warrant a quick rant to Oikawa’s sister, replacing Oikawa with a differently named seventeen-year-old boy who used her as an emotional crutch.

In response to the rant, Oikawa’s sister had told her to let the boy off gently and to ghost him.

How could she ghost Oikawa Tooru though? Especially when he texted her and kept saying he was sorry for what he did and that all he wants is for them to be friends again.

She devours her pride and accepts his offer. They could be friends. Oikawa didn’t want just friendliness, he wanted love. He wanted her love.

When he was fifteen, she was seventeen. A third year in middle school, Oikawa had settled into the personality that he crafted. He wanted to be everything that a girl would like, charming, suave, and flippant. He wanted to be everything he thought she would like.

If it wasn’t for that annoying first-year genius, then Oikawa definitely would have had a chance to see if he could finally have a shot with her. Not necessarily ready to date her, but sensing if he at least was on a roster list for her.

She came to most of the games if she wasn’t busy with her part-time job or with schoolwork. He recalls how he had tossed her one of his backup Kitagawa Daiichi jerseys, with the captain’s mark and a shining number one on the front and back. He told her that if she was going to come to the games, she might as well show off who she was going to watch play.

She had said that the jersey would make it seem like she attended the junior high instead of her actual high school, he shrugged and said it didn’t matter. But each game that she went to, her wearing that jersey demonstrated how much it did matter to him. Beaming at her when he finally caught her eyes in the stands.

Oftentimes, Oikawa’s mom needed her to pick up Oikawa after practice since his older sister was out with her boyfriend. She didn’t mind going to Kitagawa Daiichi to pick him up since she liked the route to drive there. Covered in trees and a smooth straight road where she could go just a little over the speed limit and no cops cared enough to make her slow down.

Waiting at the entrance, she saw Oikawa cleaning up the gym. A black-haired boy had turned the corner and bumped into her.

“Ah, sorry.” He stood awkwardly like there was a ruler against his back preventing him from slouching at all.

“It’s all good!” She noticed his uniform, “You’re on this team aren’t you? What position are you?”

“I’m a setter.” Instinctively, the boy tries out a smile, it doesn’t look quite legitimate, but she dismisses the strangeness of it. He gives her his name, Kageyama Tobio. He questions her, “Who are you?”

She explains her relationship to Oikawa, being his older sister’s best friend. “Although, I’m another sister to him at this point.”

“A sister?” Kageyama makes a slightly bitter face, “You’re not blood-related though right?”

“No, no, just friends. But I’ve known him since he was in diapers.”

“Ahh, that’s why he was talking to Iwaizumi-san about what to get you for White Day.”

Furrowing an eyebrow, she thinks out loud, “I didn’t get him anything for Valentine’s Day this year though?”

Oikawa had rushed over once he saw Kageyama with her, shoving the mop into the closet and quickly getting to them. The floor was still wet though, so when she heard a thud and a string of curses, turning her head she saw Oikawa rubbing his back with a scrunched-up face.

She waved Kageyama off, going to Oikawa and crouching down next to him.

“Tooru, I think the floor is still wet.”

“No, really?” The words are laced with sarcasm. She giggles a little before giving him a hand, he takes it and stands up, still rubbing his backside.

As they made their way to her car, an old beater car that she had made into her dream car of sorts, she asked Oikawa what he was going to do on March 14th. Checking her review mirrors, and messing with the keychains she had hanging from the mirror, she backed the car up so she could get onto the main road.

“March 14th?” Oikawa faked dumb. “Nothing is happening on March 14th.” He folds his arms and settles into his seat. He wonders what Kageyama had told her during their conversation and if that had anything to do with her questioning his White Day plans.

“Okay good, I’ll be with Ito that day, so don’t have anything in mind.”

Oikawa grimaced. Ito Yuuta went to a different school than Aoba Johsai but was still way too involved in her life for Oikawa’s liking. His sister had shown Oikawa photos of Ito and her together at various hangouts.

“Ito Yuuta? The one that smells like he drowned in a forest?”

“Is that what she said he smells like? Yes, he does smell like evergreens. However, you betcha I love the smell of trees. He’s yummy.” She didn’t realize that she had begun to discuss someone she was interested in with someone who was extremely interested in her. “And his hair? Ugh, the way he gels it has me nearly weak in the knees.”

She pulled into his driveway, waiting for Oikawa to hop out. He didn’t.

“Tooru, we’re at your house?”

“Don’t leave yet, I have something for you.” Oikawa exits the car but keeps the door open so she can’t reverse.

He tossed a small box at her, and she barely caught it in her hands. She tugged at the small white ribbon on top of the blue box. “Wait!” She looked at him, “Don’t open it yet. Open it when you get home, okay?”

After he shut her car door and went to his room, he bounced his knee and waited for a text message from her.

Inside the white box was a card of course, but also a bracelet. It was a thin chain, with several charms attached to it. She picked up the card, and on the front was a legend of sorts, describing what each charm was for.

A key represented his wish for her to always have security and safety. A book charm was to show that he thought she was super smart. Her favorite charm though was the star, because he intended for it to mean how much she shined in his eyes.

The inside contents of the card were short, just about how glad he was to have her in his life. The other drafts of the card had been continually vetoed by Iwaizumi. Stealing poetry from Shakespeare would not have gotten the right emotion across. And confessing that he thought about her all the time would’ve come off as too stalker-ish. The best option Iwaizumi said was to go with the K.I.S.S method. And the K.I.S.S methodology went as follows, ‘Keep it simple, stupid.’

(tooru, thank you for the present.)

He saw that she was typing, and another message was loading.

(it’s sweet that you thought of getting me this for white day.)

He bit at the inside of his mouth. She had sent a photo of her holding up a peace sign, her wrist had the the bracelet on display.

(love you! 💛)

He sighed, falling back onto his bed. He wondered how embarrassing it would be if anyone knew he was fifteen and still kicked his feet a little to physically convey his blend of elation and how much fondness he had for her.

He hadn’t officially given her a White Day present, because he gave her the gift on March 12th. Which he thought was probably better than any sort of White Day gift. His present was special because of his simple desire to get her something rather than the bracelet being for a yearning for her to reciprocate something like a White Day confession.

The third year of high school was supposed to be his year. He bounced back from his second-year depression, using the time off of school to hone his skills, to practice being perfect. He felt as if he was close to attaining the perfection he aimed for. He still loses out on a chance to get to the Nationals. Losing to Karasuno in a devastatingly close game.

During the game, she saw him land on his bad knee and she almost jumped out of her seat. After the game, and watching how all the third years were struggling to hold back their tears, or the way that Oikawa harshly slapped Iwaizumi’s back to get him to line up, she appreciated volleyball just a little more.

When Oikawa threw his white kneepad into a garbage bin unceremoniously, she held back any comments or questions. His kneepad being thrown away was the end of a chapter for him. His mom got after him for throwing away a perfectly good kneepad, but she just gently put a hand on Oikawa’s mom’s shoulder and made an expression to not push the kneepad incident further. It’s not until a month after that loss to Karasuno that Oikawa and her get into an argument.

At the dinner party his parents throw annually Oikawa sneaks a glass of beer and sips it outside on the balcony. People chatter inside the house, talking about how much Takeru has grown up and what a lovely couple Oikawa’s sister and her husband are.

She comes out to the balcony to escape the adults asking her about her life. Too many questions about boys, books, and her future for her to have a settled stomach. Outdoor air always calmed her stomach down.

“Tooru, being naughty are you?” She puts a finger on the rim of his red plastic cup. He turns his head away to hide his blush. She just laughs a little in response.

“Are you ready to be done with high school?” She asks. Leaning over the railing, her hands clasp onto each other. Elbows splayed out on the metal railing, and Oikawa copies her so that his elbow is touching hers.

“I think so.” He answers. Oikawa takes a drink from his cup, the starchiness coating his throat uncomfortably. “I’ll be going away after graduation. Argentina.”

He wants her to ask him to not go.

“That’s amazing! Tooru, I’m so glad that you’ve found a path to follow.” Her smile betrays the way her stomach can hardly take the news. She’s just the friend of his older sister, she’s just someone who watches out for him. Why would he, a brilliant person, ever halt his destiny for her?

“Yeah, I’ll be playing for a team that I think could be fun.”

She forces another smile.

He forces a smile back. But then he gets upset. Why should he have to pretend like everything is fine? He thinks she deserves to know how he feels.

“You know, I’d be more fun if you were there too. With me.”

“You’re funny, did you know that?” She fakes a laugh, “Me in Argentina? I hate summers here, imagine how I’d react to the weather in Argentina.”

“You’d adapt. You always do.”

“That’s kind of you to say.”

He turns to her, putting the hand that wasn’t holding his drink on her hip. She tries to detach from him, but he just grips her tighter, linking a finger through her jean loop and tugging her into him closer. He loves it when she’s close to him. She relaxes into the hold he has on her.

“I want to offer you so much more than just kindness.”

Biting on her lip, it was her turn to move her face away from his stare, hiding the way her eyes kept flickering across his face and landing on his lips.

She wasn’t unaware that Oikawa felt something towards her, but she diminished his feelings as a crush that kids have on older girls. Each time they met, she realized that that wasn’t the truth. He saw her and she didn’t appreciate the way that he would look at her. He looked at her like she was his lifeline.

“I think your sister is calling for me.” Oikawa’s sister was in her old room putting her son to sleep.

Oikawa kept pulling her into him, their hips fully touching now. He ran a hand over her arm, from her elbow to her wrist. “You can’t keep avoiding me.” It’s a tone that is lightly sing-song but also carries a grittiness.

She hadn’t been around his house as frequently as of late. Using school or work as an excuse to not watch movies or let him try to teach her volleyball again.

“I’m not avoiding you.” She wriggled, trying to escape him but not putting much effort into her withdrawal.

“Don’t lie.” His tone now balances on the edge of a knife, one side was a typical cheeky silly tone, and the other was an abrasively tormented tone.

“I’m not interested in you like that, Tooru.” It was a last-ditch attempt to see how far he was willing to go. How close he was going to come to ripping apart their fragile friendship. She didn’t have any sewing materials left in store to repair what was going to occur.

He swallows thickly, eyes searing into hers. “You’re being mean.” His tone had fallen over and landed flat on the tormented side.

He lets the words sting her, not softening their blow. Oikawa wonders if she’s lying or telling the truth. It was a fine line between whether he should urge the issue to finally crack her shell or if she was being honest and she was totally out of his reach.

Managing to finally break away from the way Oikawa lured her in, she went into the main kitchen that opened into the living room where everyone was making conversation. He downs the rest of his alcohol and tosses the plastic cup into the outdoor trash can.

Oikawa doesn’t know how many more drinks he steals from the kitchen, watching her talk to people and gently touch shoulders in acknowledgment and understanding.

The moment Oikawa accidentally and drunkenly breaks a vase with zinnias, primroses, and calla lilies, his parents shut down the party. His sister heads out, asking her best friend if she needs a ride home. She says that she’s good, she’ll enjoy the February blossoms on a walk home.

Oikawa’s mom asks if she’ll check on Oikawa before she leaves. She says she doesn’t know if that would be a good idea, but Oikawa’s mom begs to differ. As it turns out, when she was outside the house, talking to her best friend, Oikawa hit his hand against the concrete wall of his house. His mom had bandaged most of the scrapes, but she couldn’t do anything about the way his eyes seemed empty.

She wonders if his aversion to her right now had anything to do with his earlier confession and her adamant rejection. Or if his anger is all due to his volleyball woes. She reasons that it ultimately has to be the loss to Karasuno.

“You’re letting yourself get bothered? You’re letting this moment tick you off and you go and punch a wall?” She’s knocking harder on his door. “Get off your ass and face me.”

“Go away.”

“You’re falling down a path that I can’t save you from. Tooru, listen to me please.” He doesn’t respond. She hears the ticking of the clock in his room from where she sits outside his bedroom door, her head resting against the wood.

On the other side of the door, he’s hugging his legs on his bed, his face on top of his knees as he glares at the doorknob where the lock is turned. His stubborn, obstinate, unyielding pride prevents him from getting up and opening the door so he can cry everything out and so she can hold him. He just wants her to hold him.

This fit isn’t about volleyball anymore, it’s about them. She knows it. The way that he sealed her into his life and now that she wants to be unstitched. He feels wounded.

She investigates. “Are you ready for whatever you’ll go through throughout your life? People will probe you, instigate you, and deride you infinitely worse than what I’ve ever said to you.” People will be able to say they love you and I can’t.

He opens the door, “No one will ever hurt me more than you hurt me. You hold so much more power over me than anyone else,” He waves his hand that’s wrapped in white cloth to emphasize his point. “You make me feel like this. Like every emotion is dialed to one hundred.”

“I can’t choose how you feel. I can’t make you feel anything.” She pokes him in the chest. “You’re a child and you’re acting like it too, get over your facade and get over your surface-level crush on me. You don’t know me and don’t you ever pretend like you do.”

He raises his hand, she reacts with a flinch. He finished the motion, he was going to run his hand through his hair. His stomach drops and he realizes that she just thought he was going to slap her.

It's a whisper of, “I’d never hurt you.”

He backs into his room, wanting to disappear from the exchange. The argument ended there.

“I know, I just reacted, it’s okay.” Hearing his barely audible whimpers, she crosses the threshold of his door. A suitcase is half-filled in the corner, with clothes hanging out of the case. A book on speaking Spanish is on top of his laptop.

The silence is cut with the shuffles of their feet on his carpet and intermittent sniffles.

His chest tightens, short releases of air paired with overzealous inhales. “I miss you even when you’re around. How is that possible?”

“I don’t know.” She sits on his bed, and he curls into her side, rubbing his nose on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. My words failed me, I’m a liar. Tooru, you know me better than my family does.”

He kisses her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her neck. Hot breath is on the side of her face.

“I need you to let me go. I’m not your person.” She wishes she was, but she felt like she just wasn’t.

Oikawa can’t help the crack in his voice, “Why do you get to decide that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers.”

“To me you do, you have all my answers.”

They begin to cry at the same time.

He replicates what he remembers her doing to him so many times. Caressing her hair and pressing his lips to the top of her head repeatedly. She seems so much smaller than him nowadays. He’s been six feet tall for a while now but only when she began to seem removed did he realize that he’s bigger than her.

“Tooru.”

He mutters in response. They had begun to lay in his bed, with Oikawa pulling blankets up to cover the both of them, his arm encasing her waist and keeping her close to him. His ceiling fan kept spinning overhead. He had his head on the pillow and wanted her to just release the stiffness in her body and soften into his touch.

“Tooru?” She tries to sit up, but he’s tired of that and refuses to let her go. She faces him, twisting around in the embrace. Both their heads are on pillows now, he keeps his eyes closed. “I want you to know that I do love you.”

He raises his eyebrows in wariness, unsure of where she’s taking her words.

“I love you but I can’t be what you want. I can be a sister figure, I can be a best friend, I can be someone you can talk to, but I cannot be a lover.”

Oikawa wanted to hug her tighter, but he was already leaving imprints on her waist that were sure to leave light bruises and tenderness the next day. All he can say in response is a hum.

As soon as Oikawa had fallen asleep, she left.

The dreamer and reality face-off was Oikawa’s least favorite thing. The way that he could dream all he wanted, but reality failed to match those expectations. People always say that the future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams, but where’s the beauty in knowing that your future is sullied because of being born in the wrong year? For being born in the wrong life this time. For being born as the person she wasn’t going to end up with.

The spring after his graduation, Oikawa was messing around with her. He had to have been. Their fight at the dinner party weighed on them, but more so on her.

She wonders if she made the right choice. Her feelings had flipped on her and she knew it. Instead of pushing him away due to her unease about the age difference, she pushed him away because she was afraid of how deeply she would fall.

All the times her friends had teased her about being a cradle-robber, or a cougar for having such a smitten boy around her, she had let those comments get to her. It was ironic, the same hyperfixation that Oikawa had for volleyball was matched in her hyperfixation on the way she was older than him and tried to always act like it too.

Oikawa decided to stay persistent. He knew that she still appreciated that quality about him. He wanted to put his ambition to good use.

He lounged without a shirt around his sister’s place when she was there to visit. He’d caught her looking at him once, or three times, and the way he could see her begin to play with her fingers, wringing them out was more than enough for him to embrace a level of confidence he hadn’t shown to her before. He was on the older end of eighteen, she was on the cusp of twenty into twenty-one.

She had been looking at pictures, trying to avoid where Oikawa took up space in the living room. It had been ten minutes since his sister had left and she hadn’t said anything to him, not even a greeting. He did not appreciate that.

If she was so insistent on being anything to him but a lover, then he would treat her like that.

Wrapping arms around her may have been the breaking point, but he committed to the final blow, “Hey best friend.” She rattled out a titter, but any move she made would result in her brushing against the bare skin of his arms, or his chest, or worst-case his stomach.

He rests his chin on her shoulder, “Oh wait, you wanted to be called sister yeah?”

She gritted her teeth, still trying to decode a breakaway moment. Oikawa’s sister was stuck in traffic from picking up some fast food. Takeru was at daycare, the husband was at work. It would be just Oikawa and her for another twenty minutes or so. She hoped he wouldn’t be so insistent to keep touching her for the entire duration until his older sister returned.

“My name works perfectly fine Oikawa.”

He turns her around, still grasping her, “Oikawa?” He tisks, sliding his hands from her back to her waist. “That doesn’t sound right to me.”

Within her shoes, she kept wiggling her toes uncomfortably.

“I know your name, and you know mine,” He lowers his voice, “So use my name.”

Shaking her head she closes her eyes.

“C’mon, it’s just two syllables. Too-ru. Your turn.”

Adamantly she leaned away from where she could feel his breath, increasing the span between them.

“Sisters and brothers use each other's given names.” He tightens his hold, one hand on the small of her back and the other on her waist still. He leveraged his lack of a shirt to see how close he could get, knowing she didn’t want to touch him. She’d let him get away with slipping around her while she stayed frozen in place.

“Stop it! We are not related!” She opened her eyes and stomped her foot a little. Her jaw was clenched and her eyes were wide.

“Good. Never wanted you as a sister anyway.” He wanted her in extremely not sisterly ways.

“Tooru quit it.”

“Why? Isn’t this what best friends do? They tease, they taunt, they play.” Oikawa grips her face, smushing it gently in his left hand. He smiles at her. His grip was so delicate but his touch was heated.

The best response had to have been dishing up what he was serving. So she slid her hand over his chest, resting on his pectoral. He could feel the vein in his neck pulsing. He drops his hold on her and takes a step back, his calf hitting the coffee table. Her step forward to him is calculated.

He wishes he was wearing his shirt now.

“We can play whatever you want Tooru.”

He stutters.

“How cute.” She pinches his cheek, then puts her hand back on his chest.

The door handle turns and she drops her hand, fixing her shirt a little from where Oikawa had grabbed at her. Oikawa doesn’t even notice her move to pick up a book and scan through the pages in the far corner of the living room.

Oikawa’s sister had bags of greasy food and she jutted out her hip, “I got the good stuff.” His sister scans the room, “Put a shirt on. Is it too hot in here? You’re red from the ears down.”

“I’m good.”

“Weirdo.” Oikawa’s sister rolls her eyes at him, “Now, let’s eat.”

Their dynamic bounced between them. Oikawa pushing and pulling in various directions, while she tried her best to stay still. He did settle down, calming his nerves.

Could say he did everything if he didn’t give one last attempt for her heart?

He’s twenty now, and she’s twenty-two. He asked if she would go on a car ride with him. She agreed. Piling snacks and drinks into her passenger side, she asked where they would be going. He sidetracks.

They end up at a beach, far along the coastline. There’s a rocky platform, but they crawl down to the sandy area, where the water laps up the seashells trying to bring them home to the cold ocean.

He postponed Argentina for two years. One month was left on his pause before going where he knew he needed to be. His club would only wait so long for him before his spot would be filled.

He sits on the large towel he brought. She’s picking through seashells, squatting by the water.

An idea runs through his head. He doesn’t let it die out. He’s just a kid after all.

He pushes her into the water with a laugh, she splashes him by lifting her cupped hands and dumping salty water over his head. He catches her by the torso, but she manages an escape and starts going further into the water, he just follows after her.

They shiver as they stand both waist-deep in the ocean. His hair is sticking to his forehead, and her teeth chatter but it doesn’t detract from the way she’s smiling.

Oikawa swims closer to her. There’s maybe an inch between them. He lays all his cards on the table when he holds her face in his hands. Goosebumps riddle the expanse of their bodies.

“Since I can’t have you in this life, I want just one more memory with you.” A shiver runs through her. Oikawa continues, “So before I leave, I need you to promise that we’ll find each other in the next life regardless of who we are?”

“We’ll find each other, in every life. Just like how we found each other in this one.” She’s quiet, but he can hear her perfectly. She’s trying to make herself seem older with her words, more mature. She grasping onto straws making it seem like she isn’t wrecked by what he’s asking.

She moves her fingers through the water, he takes his hands away from her face so he can position her hands onto his shoulders. He goes back to cupping her face. She wraps her arms around his neck and lets their bodies mold against each other.

Their clothes are soaked through, her long sleeve is getting stretched out from the waves. Sweatpants absorb the icy water and stick to their legs. His shirt is clinging to him and leaving an exact outline of his torso.

Oikawa’s a little choked up but he wants her to know what he’s thinking so he gets the words out. “Promise we’ll end up together in the next life?” He moves his head so their foreheads are touching.

“How we are right now, again?” She splays her fingers, intertwining the hair at his nape between each finger, he shudders from the contact.

“No. Like we were meant to be. Like we were made for each other. I want to find us as lovers.”

She lets the weight of her head fall into his hands and he lets out a short muted sigh of relief at how the tip of her nose hits his.

“Okay.”

His eyes flicker to her lips, she notices. He brings his head down a little, “Just once? Once where you kiss back?”

She’s softer with how she kisses than he is. She’s more experienced, but she goes slower than Oikawa expects. It’s just pecks, and he wants more. When he licks her bottom lip, it’s salty from the ocean, but he thinks she tastes perfect. He can’t help the way that he moans into the kiss or the way he grabs her thighs and makes them wrap around his hips.

It’s all in the way she’s the first one to slide her tongue into his mouth slightly.

He wants to consume each noise she makes. He hardly notices the way he runs out of breath when he starts moving from her lips to her jaw and then back to her mouth. When she backs her head away, his head keeps coming to follow hers, trailing her lips with his.

Pressing a hand right below his neck, her fingers touching his shoulderbone, she makes distance between them so she can force Oikawa to pause and get some air.

“I lied.” Oikawa’s eyes are blown out, pupils dark and filling in his irises. She purses her lips, and she goes to loosen the way her legs are around him, but he holds her where he wants her. Legs still around him. “I lied because I know I can’t wait until our next life. I need you in this life, and all the other ones.”

She goes to speak, but he keeps going. “I’ll make it work, I’ll make everything work out the way it should. I just want you to say yes. I want you to want to say yes. I need you to say yes to me because I don’t think my soul could take anything less than your entirety.”

He pauses and she opens her mouth again, Oikawa doesn’t know when to stop and the words rush out, “One more- I’ll be quick.” He steals an open-mouthed kiss, running his tongue over hers.

She rolls her eyes, and Oikawa steals another peck on her lips.

“Okay, two more.” He shrugs a little, “I’m not any sort of genius, yet, but I know that I was meant to be yours. Maybe I knew it when I was seven, maybe I knew it when you shoved that stupid counterclock in my asinine face and told me to go to bed. But I know it.”

The sun officially setting made the water so much colder, so she tucked her head into his neck, “I love everything you’re saying right now but I’m freezing.”

“You love what I’m saying?”

“I’m cold Tooru. Focus please.” He lets out a sound of understanding. It’s cute how she waddles out of the water, but he realizes he’s probably doing the same side to side penguin walk.

He picks up the towel and waves it out so the sand gets off the fibers, then he wraps it around her shoulders. He’s hugging her from behind and pressing small kisses to the side of her face. Attempting to get back up to the car with him attached like a koala is difficult but not impossible.

The engine of the car is running, and he fidgets with the heater. He has a tic where he’ll mess with the amount of air blowing, then the level of heat, and then go back to the amount of air. Each knob he twists changes the temperature until he finally settles on a lull of heat.

Her head is resting against the window, getting slightly rocked by the movement of the car on the road. The towel was still wrapped around her. Oikawa had found another one in the trunk and had it wrapped around his waist, he had forgone a shirt since the heater was working just right and he didn’t want a wet t-shirt on anymore.

“I meant what I said you know.” Oikawa had one hand on the wheel and one hand on her armrest. “I’m going to make everything work out the way it needs to work out.”

“Mm-hm.”

“I’m yours now.” Oikawa lets his smug smile roam on his face.

“Mine? No title? Not boyfriend?”

Oikawa moves the hand from the armrest onto her thigh, “The title I’m settling for is husband or soulmate. Take your pick. I’ll propose soon, don’t worry angel.”

She tilts her head up and laughs. He rubs his thumb over her knee.

In contrast to the way his hair had a halo in the sun, she had a halo made of stars and the moon. Instead of creating an outline of her hair, the night sky embedded itself and adorned her. Rather than trying to amplify her, the moon and stars realized she naturally had a halo around her and wanted to say congratulations by shining through her rather than on her.

Although she declines the first four proposals, she accepts the one right before he leaves. Oikawa would never tell her but he was relieved that she accepted, he couldn’t handle the idea of him not being around and her getting moved in on by some other guy- despite her telling him consistently that she would turn other guys down.

The ring didn’t act like a perfect deterrent, but it made him feel secure. He liked that she wore all the stuff he got her on the same hand, his ring and his bracelet from way long ago.

Oikawa sends her a new jersey almost every month, with his signature across the front near his player number. He also sends all sorts of knick-knacks he finds in Argentina. He makes a point of calling when she’s eating lunch, and he’s about to go to bed so that she doesn’t have to stay awake to answer his calls. His mom and sister get annoyed that he spends hours talking to her but only minutes talking to them. He tells them that true love takes precedence over family.

She has to chastise him to get him to actually stay on call with his mom for longer than thirty minutes.

They fight a few times about where to live. He wins the argument and she moves to Argentina once she officially graduates college.

An apartment filled with her stuff and his stuff side by side makes him giddy. But he especially gets excited with the fact that he gets the side of the bed closest to the bedroom door, and she gets the side furthest away from the bedroom door.

Sometimes he’ll stay up much too late, his back against the headboard of their bed watching volleyball videos.

“Tooru, go to bed.” She nuzzles against her pillow a little more, her back towards him as she tries to avoid the light of the laptop screen on his legs.

“One more video.” He clicks on a replay of a match that goes all the way to five sets with commentary during each timeout instead of the video cutting to the next play.

When he chuckles a little, she turns over and shuts the laptop. “Bedtime.” She makes a fake sleeping sound. Oikawa sets the laptop on his side table, turning the table light off.

She lifts her head so Oikawa can put his arm under her head. She presses a kiss to his bicep.

“What’s the clock say?”

He slings his leg over her torso and puts his other arm across her stomach.

“It’s not even midnight yet.” She clicks her tongue and he fixes his response. “It’s 23:14.”

He kisses the corner of her mouth. When she doesn’t say anything, he gives her a real kiss. Still no response and he licks the length of her jaw to her chin. She lets out a small din of disgust.

“Fine! Goodnight Tooru.”

He whines a little.

She groans. She sits up a little and leans over him, ruining the positioning she had spent minutes working on. She rests the length of her arms on either side of his head, her face right above his.

One of her hands begins to play with his hair, which begins to twirl around her fingers, softly grazing her palm. He uses his arm to force her back down so that her chest is pressed to his, he lets out a coo to express gratification when her weight is on top of him.

“I love you, my pretty boy.” She kisses his cheek, “Handsome, intelligent, angelic, slightly egotistical-” He nips her bottom lip. “I love you, goodnight, I’ll be here in the morning.”

He’s living his dream. There’s no difference between his dreams and reality now. No gaps to fight against. Only a pair of invisible halos for the rest of their lives.

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erinwantstowrite · 2 months ago

Note

unfortunately for peter he's sooner or later going to contract the batfamily curse without hope of recovery (being bisexual)

he has no idea what's coming for him 😔 he'll figure it out slowly and painfully for everyone involved

#poor ned #ned leeds #he's so patient #(he has no idea that it'd even be a possibility)#i hope i can accurately describe the pain of being in love with an idiot straight boy who's your friend and really sweet and kind #who you also don't know is actually bisexual because his ass hasn't figured it out yet #i have the scene for peter's realization written in my head already #we've got a whileeeee #this is slow burn y'all #aka the only romance i can write #peter parker #ned x peter #bisexual peter parker #erinwantstowrite #ao3 #leap of faith ao3 #ao3 fanfic #leap of faith catch me if you can #thank you for the ask!

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calicoheartz · 6 months ago

Note

Request:

Can you make a Paige x reader inspired by from the start by laufey.

Paige adores reader. Their dads have always been good friends. So they were always together when they were younger. (as in the song) Paige is like kinda nervous around reader, not the most confident in herself. And now at UConn she is still all over reader, her confidence has improved but reader is oblivious to her feelings. (So basically a Paige pov, but you can mix it between the two)

Hope u like my request! 💗

𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓 ; 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐆𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐒

꣑୧ — summary | you and Paige had been inseparable since the two of you were younger, she's adored you since the day she laid eyes on you. with you oblivious to her feelings, how does she plan on making you see her the way she sees you?

wc ; 1k

— warnings | tiny bit suggestive if u squint , slowburn (?) , friends to lovers !

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : aww this was so sweet to write thank you so much for requesting anon! enjoy besties !

Paige’s POV :

I have loved y/n since the summer of when i was 13, I had known her for years prior to my quite obvious revelation.

Our dads had been best friends since university, so it was obvious that once the two of them had children, it was bound that we would be best friends.

I remember the first time I saw her, back when our dads introduced us at one of their weekend get-togethers. She was this bright, confident kid, always ready with a smile and a laugh. I, on the other hand, was the shy one, the one who'd rather dribble a basketball in the corner than join in on the games she loved to play.

Even then, I was drawn to her. I couldn't quite place why, but there was something about her that made my heart race and my palms sweat. She was always so kind, always so patient with me. As the years went by and we grew older, our dads' friendship meant we spent almost every weekend together. It was in those moments, watching you from the sidelines, that I realized I wanted to be more than just friends.

I couldn’t help but be a little envious when she got her first boyfriend, I mean why couldn't she see that I was right in front of her? I listened to all the heartbreaks, all the tears, and it made my heart ache knowing that she doesn't realize how much I truly love her.

Throughout highschool, the more time i spent with y/n the more my feelings manifested into something i could no longer control, everything she did and said made me nervous. The way her eyes sparkled under the dim lights of the basketball court after practice, the way her laugh echoed in the halls, the way her smile made me weak in the knees. Everything about her was magical, as if a drop of the heavens fell from the sky and somehow adorned her complexion, mesmerizing me every time I saw her.

Which is why when we both made the commitment to uconn, i knew i was eventually going to have to come clean to her. I couldn’t stand to watch the love of my life slip away between my fingers, and I knew I would regret it for the rest of my life if I never told her.

My confidence on the court has soared, and I've found my place here, but when it comes to you, I still feel like that shy girl from our childhood. I wonder if you even notice the way I look at you, the way my breath catches when you laugh, the way I can't help but gravitate towards you whenever we're in the same room.

It was just me and you, in awkward silence.

I mean how hasn't she noticed how I get quiet when there's no one else around?

But what's a girl to do? Lying on my bed, staring into the blue..

My love for her is driving me a little bit insane, I have to get this off my chest.

I'm telling you today.

Readers POV :

Paige has always been a part of my life, a constant presence that I sometimes take for granted. Our dads' friendship meant that we were practically inseparable growing up. I remember her as the quiet one, always a bit nervous, always clutching her basketball like it was a lifeline. I liked having her around, though. There was something comforting about her steady presence.

Being at UConn together has been amazing. Watching Paige on the court, seeing her confidence bloom, has been incredible. She's become this powerhouse player, admired by everyone. I'm proud of her, and I make sure to tell her often.

What I don't understand is why she always seems a little flustered around me. I mean, we've known each other forever. There's no reason for her to be nervous, right? I chalk it up to her being busy with basketball and school, but sometimes I catch her looking at me with this intense expression, and it makes me wonder if there's something more.

Paige’s POV :

Tonight, we're having one of our usual study sessions in my dorm room. I try to focus on my notes, but my eyes keep drifting towards you. You're sitting on my bed, textbooks spread out around you, a determined look on your face. It's moments like these that make me wish I could just tell you how I feel.

"Paige, you okay?" Your voice breaks through my thoughts.

I blink, realizing I've been staring. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking."

You give me a curious look. "About what?"

I hesitate, the words on the tip of my tongue. "About... us. About how long we've known each other."

You smile, a soft, nostalgic smile. "We've been through a lot, haven't we?"

"Yeah," I agree, my heart pounding. "And there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

You tilt your head, eyes bright with curiosity. "What is it?"

Before I can lose my nerve, I take a deep breath. "I've had feelings for you for a long time. Since we were kids. I was always too scared to say anything, but I can't keep it to myself anymore."

Readers POV :

I'm stunned. Paige's words hang in the air, and for a moment, I can't believe what I'm hearing. Paige, the girl who's always been there, who I thought I knew so well, has had feelings for me all this time?

"Paige," I start, my voice barely above a whisper. "I had no idea. I..."

Her face falls slightly, and I realize how much this confession has cost her. I reach out, taking her hand in mine. "I never noticed, but now that you've said it... it makes sense. The way you've always been there for me, the way you look at me."

She looks at me with hope in her eyes. "Does this change anything for you?"

I think about it for a moment, then smile. "I think it does. I think it's something we should explore."

Paige's face breaks into a relieved, joyful smile, and for the first time, I see her confidence shine through, not just on the court, but here with me. From the start, we've always been there for each other, and now, we have the chance to turn our story into something even more beautiful.

Paiges POV :

just thinking of you...I know ive loved you from the start.

a/n : mighttttt make a part 2 to this....THIS HEALED MY DEPRESSION WHFBQEHR!! as always, thank u sm for reading !

#wlw #wlw imagine #wcbb #my hcs #wcbb x reader #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #uconn vs iowa #paige buckets #paige x reader #live laugh love laufey #laufey goddess #laufey #slow burn #friends to lovers

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feyreswaterybowels · 7 months ago

Text

⭒The Silent One⭒

#2 Azriel x Fem!OC

⭒Part 1⭒Part 2⭒Part 3⭒Part 4⭒

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Cassandra decides to join the IC for dinner. Things feel weird and wrong but also…safe and comfortable. She opens up to them about her past traumas and gets to know more about them.

Warnings/Tags: mentions physical and visual sexual abuse in the recent past. describes physical violence. trauma. mute character. slow burn. protective!azriel. protective!IC.

Authors Note: All reblogs, likes and comments are welcome, appreciated and encouraged! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for the next part! Regular italics are inter thoughts while bold italics are her communicating with other people mentally.

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“Relax,” Nuala cooed as she helped Cassandra ease into the large bath, warm and floral scented.

Cassandra had never been in a bath like this. Only one suited for regular fae without wings. They had been cramped and uncomfortable and nearly impossible to bathe everywhere without hurting a wing. But this bath? It was huge and could easily fit multiple people with and without wings. It stretched all the way to one of those glassless windows where the water spilled over in a soothing stream.

She leaned back when Nuala prompted, letting her wings float in the water. It was so nice the way they felt so weightless. Nuala tilted her head back and their eyes met as she cupped her hands with water and poured it over Cassandra’s white hair. She lathered it with a nice smelling soap, massaging at her scalp.

It was difficult to lay there and relax while someone else washed her hair. It reminded her of the mistress, how when she bathed her and washed her hair it was rushed and rough and…and when she washed her hair like this she would sometimes push her head under the water and hold her there—

Cassandra bolted up with a gasp, hands coming up to wipe away the water that fell down from her hair and over her face, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She whirled around, wide eyes catching Nuala’s, trying to desperately apologize for what she had done. The female just shook her head gently.

“It’s okay,” She said, “would you like to be left alone for a moment?”

Cassandra considered this, she both wanted to be alone and have someone else around. But she nods her head. Cerridwen walked in then, a stack of something in her hand.

“Clothes for you,” she said, sitting the stack on a shelf across the room. “We will be back but if you finish with your bath and wish to dress before we return the clothes will be here.”

Cassandra nods. She doesn’t know what else to do, but the females seem to understand, offering her small nods in return before leaving the room—the heavy door closing as they leave the bedroom the bedroom.

She sinks down in the water once she’s sure she’s alone. So much has changed in such a short time and she’s still not sure if this is all real. These people…they could change any moment. Drag her from this huge room and throw her into a prison cell and use her for whatever they pleased.

Turning in the water she pushed herself towards the other end of the tub, the one that waterfalls over the edge. What she sees there takes her breath away, an audible gasp leaving her lips.

The first thing she notices is all the lights, it looked exactly like the painting she saw with Morrigan. There was so much to look at. But what she really wanted to see was the beautiful sight above that. The night sky. The thousands of stars twinkling above, surrounding a bright moon.

She could have cried looking at the sight. But not because she felt sad, she felt safe. Comfortable. Content. Like this was where she was meant to be.

Eventually she did get out of the bath, drying herself off with the fluffy white towel that was unnaturally warm. She stopped in front of the mirror, surprised at her own reflection. She looked so different from the last time she actually saw herself. Her skin that was once a golden caramel color was lighter and ashen, dark circles under her green eyes. Her white hair slicked back with water was thinner than when it used to fall in thick ringlets as a girl. Her rib cage and hip bones protruding in a way they always had but wished they hadn’t. She had wanted a thicker, fuller body like the girls she saw at the pleasure houses. A strong body like her mothers used to be. A body that could hold up her wings and maybe one day…fly.

She had gotten dressed before Nuala and Cerridwen returned. The clothes weren’t like anything she’d ever worn before. Cream colored pants that were lined with a fuzzy material that was softer than anything she’d ever worn before. The top was a matching cream, flowy top with sleeves that stopped at her elbows and buttoned up the back to accommodate her wings. The shoes were white, flat and slipped on her feet easily.

She chose not to attend dinner that night. She wasn’t sure she could stomach any food. The twins looked disappointed. Her decision had been made to gauge how she would be treated if she didn’t have dinner with this high lord male.

She didn’t leave her room the following day either.

Or the day after that.

No one bothered her. No one came to drag her from the room kicking and screaming. No one beat on the door or called her horrible names. No one held her down or forced the food into her mouth. In fact no one except Nuala and Cerridwen came to her room at all.

And when they came they would bring a small tray of food, she only ever drank the tea and ate the biscuit and left everything else. She didn’t want to take too much before knowing if she was expected to do something in return.

When she finally felt safe enough she agreed to dinner on her fourth night. Nuala bathed her again. She couldn’t help the panic that overcame her once again as the female washed her hair but she cooed at her, soothingly before getting up and leaving her to finish alone as she had the first night.

Cerridwen took on fixing her hair, drying and styling it into waves that fell over her shoulders. Once she was done and dressed Nuala put a cream on her face and spritzed her with something that smelled sweet.

When they were done she felt like a different person. She felt clean. Comfortable. Alive.

There wasn’t much time to dwell on her feelings of finally leaving the room before Nuala and Cerridwen pulled her up and escorted her down the maze of hallways.

“Just two doors down, you’ll find the dining room,” Cerridwen pointed down the hall with a small smile. Cassandra wanted to ask why they weren’t also joining but when she turned to face them they were just gone as if they disappeared into thin air.

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Walking into the dining room was a weird feeling. Cassandra didn’t feel like she belonged there. In the fancy room, with a huge table filled with foods…foods she had never seen before. The four people she had met three days ago—and another she hadn’t met, all sat around the table talking in hushed whispers.

Azriel was the first to look over. His eyes met hers and offered her a small smile. “Cassandra,” his deep voice greeted.

“I’m glad you decided to join us this evening, please come sit,” Rhysand said, standing and motioning to the empty seat next to him, where Azriel would be on her other side—Morrigan in front of her and Cassian next to her. The other female at the opposite end of the table from Rhysand.

Cassandra hesitated for only a moment before walking over and realizing that the chair was designed to accommodate wings. She wouldn’t have to sit at some weird angle to be comfortable. Her eyes meet Azriel’s, the gentle look on his face a comfort she needed. He stood from his spot, sliding the chair out and gesturing for her to sit.

She felt eyes on her as she scanned all of the food in front of her. She had never seen so much food.

“I trust everything went okay the last few days?” Rhysand asked as he took his own seat once again.

“I freaked out a little when Nuala was washing my hair…” Cassandra admitted, shoulders hunching in embarrassment.

“That’s okay, no need to be upset. You’ve been through a lot, it’s expected. Nuala and Cerridwen are understanding and won’t hold it against you. You have my word on that.”

She wanted to say thank you again but didn’t feel it was appropriate. She didn’t know what else to say so she nodded her head and looked towards that other female, freezing as she looked into glowing silver eyes. She had never seen anything so…beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

A snort to her side caught her attention and she looked at Rhysand.

“Sorry, I just heard that,” Rhysand said, Cassandra’s eyebrows pulled together before realization dawned on her. The comment about the other female… “Amren.” Rhys supply’s the name.

She looks back to the female, to those eyes that make her not want to look away.

“Hello, girl,” She greets, and it’s not a terrifying rumble, but a genuine greeting.

Cassandra offers a small smile, feeling a draw to the small female. No one else spoke so she reached for a plate but before her fingers could even graze it, it filled with food before her eyes. She blinked at it in shock, looking to Rhysand to see if he had done it.

There was a small smile on his lips as he shook his head.

“The house is enchanted, it does what it pleases. You wanted food so it filled your plate for you,” Azriel spoke, she looked over at him then back at the plate.

Oh, wow. She thought…the food had even been diced into smaller pieces as she had told Rhysand. Her eyes fell on the wine glass in front of her—she wouldn’t drink it, couldn’t, so she looked at Azriel again then around the room. Water. And just like that, a glass of water appeared in front of her.

Cassandra felt the corners of her mouth twitch up, eyes meeting Azriel’s again then Rhysands before she grabbed the glass of water.

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“It’s pretty awesome, right?” Cassian spoke, his long hair that had been pulled back earlier now fell to his shoulders.

Cassandra nodded in answer, sitting her glass back on the table. Rhys took his seat, grabbing his wine glass, silently observing the female as she reached for her fork.

“I’ve never had this much food before…”

Rhys isn’t surprised but he’s not expecting the words and they make his heart hurt.

“Eat as much as you’d like,” Rhys says warmly, watching as she scoops up some warm potatoes and brings them to her lips.

“Mm” she hums, eyes closing. “That’s so good!” Rhys doesn’t answer, he can tell she’s not speaking to him consciously, she’s just thinking, not a single mental shield to protect her fragile mind.

It’s the next bite that wipes the small mine from all the faces. No longer an exploratory bite but a ravenous one. One after another, eating quickly and without restraint. Eating in a way that meant she had been starving, had never had an adequate food supply, had never been allowed to eat more than what was given.

She didn’t speak and neither did they. None of them would tell her to stop or slow down, all having been there at some point in their lives. They had all known that hunger at one point or another. So they let her eat. And drink. And eat some more.

Potatoes. Greens. Fruit. Meat. Bread. A plate appeared next to her holding a slice of cake and she ate that too—she had never had cake before but no one else at the table knew that.

It’s only when her plate is empty that anyone speaks up. It’s Cassian that asks, “How do you feel you’re settling in?” It’s an attempt to bring about a conversation without making her uncomfortable.

Cassandra takes a slow sip of water, breathing deeply as she does before looking at Rhysand who nods in confirmation that he’ll give her answer.

“Honestly…I feel more comfortable here than I have ever felt anywhere else.”

“That’s wonderful! We want you to be as comfortable as possible,” Morrigan chimes in, excited as if she’d been waiting to talk to Cassandra for the past three days. “When we didn’t see you for three days we were worried—well I was. The boys wanted to give you some space.”

“I didn’t know what was expected of me,” she says, Rhysand repeats her and she’s met with confused frowns. “That’s why I stayed away, didn’t eat much. I didn’t know if anything would be…expected of me in return if I did.”

“You have no debt to us, Cassandra. Nothing is expected of you,” Rhysand speaks, his voice firm but gentle. “If you wish to come to dinner you eat your fill until you’re satisfied. If you need clothes you wear what you like and it’s yours to keep. Nothing will ever be taken or held against you as punishment of any kind.”

Cassandra blinks at him, feels the wetness in her eyes as she nods. There’s just one nagging question in her mind, one she needs an answer to before she gets too comfortable.

“Why am I here then?” She asks, setting her fork down on a freshly filled plate, half as full as before.

Rhysand lets out a sigh before telling the others what she’d asked.

“You are here because I received word from one of Azriel’s spies—I’ll give you a more in depth explanation on what that means at another time—that pleasure houses in my court were buying and selling females against their will,” Rhysand begins to explain. “See we have many pleasure houses in Velaris but it has always been law that consent is the main requirement for anyone involved. Those who work or visit have to be there because they want to be there.”

“So, when we got word this law had been broken, Rhys sent us out to patrol the pleasure houses,” Azriel said, drawing her attention to him, “he needed solid proof of the law being broken before he could step in. Cassian and I, we saw you there. Scared. Frightened. Clearly not there of your own free will and didn’t feel it was safe for you to stay there.”

Cassandra looked at him, taking in the shadows swirling around him. His kind hazel eyes, the blue siphons glowing on his scarred hands. Remembered how when her eyes first landed on him on the other side of those bars she had been absolutely terrified of him.

“What about the…Mistress?” She asked turning away from Azriel to look at Rhysand.

“You no longer have to call her mistress, her name is Kamari. She is still here in our cells, she’s not been harmed. We are working to gather some intel from her. Who her bosses are, where they are buying the females and any other information we can get from her. She’s been cooperative in giving us the information we need to stop this from happening to any other females,” Rhysand said, eying the female in front of him before looking to his second in command.

“Do you have any information that may help us, girl? Anything we could use against that female to get more information?” Amren asks, fixing her smoky eyes on the female.

Cassandra was quiet for a moment, thinking. Trying to piece together everything she could remember. She looks up and nods her head. Everyone seemed to sit a little straighter, their full attention on her alone.

“My father is the one who sold me to a male named Vale. Blue skin, a long deep scar across his face, black eyes…mean and very strong—”

Rhysand hold his hand up, relaying the information to Azriel and you watch curiously as one of his shadows darts away and out of a window.

“Cassandra, do you mind if I open up a channel for everyone to hear what you say to me? It will help us find these people,” Rhysand asks, she doesn’t need to think before she nodded. She wanted to help in any way she could. Help any girls going through what she did and stopping more from going through it.

“Please, continue,” Rhysand encouraged.

“The male, Vale, had bought other females. He kept me me in a dark room under his home with three other females. He—he raped one of the girls many time but not me or the other two girls. He said he would get more money for us if we stayed…untouched.” Cassandra’s stomach rolled at the memories. Nauseated, remembering the cries of that poor girl every time that man came down stairs and hurt her. She could see the anger in the eyes that surrounded her, could practically feel it radiating from them. Their fists and jaws clenched tightly, wings rigid and shoulders taunt. But she continued.

“I stayed there for a few months before he took me to that…pleasure house? I’m not sure what happened to the other girls. I think he may have kept the one he raped.”

“Do you know their names?” Cassian asks and she’s nods. How could she ever forget them?

“Seera, Juno and Neema. I believe Seera and Juno were sister but I’m not completely sure. We tried not to talk too much because it made the male very angry,” She took a deep breath, trying not to remember the time he had nearly crushed her throat for merely asking to use the bathroom.

Unbeknownst to her she had sent that mental image to them who were seething with anger at what this poor girl had gone through.

“Once I was at that place I was introduced to Miss—I was introduced to Kamari,” She continued, needing to get away from the memories of that male. “She was in charge of my training. She stripped me naked, told me I would never own a pair of clothes again. That I was to be naked and ready for any male to take me whenever they pleased. I was to learn things that would…please these males. Anytime I refused I was beaten. So, for months I watched other females pleasure males in many ways. But only watched. They said—she said I would be sold for a lot of money for being untouched. That whoever paid the most could do whatever they wanted to me. When I saw the two of you I thought—” She swallowed thickly eyes shooting between Azriel and Cassian. “I though you were going to—”

Her voice cracks and she looks away. Morrigan pushes out of her chair, walking around the table. “Can I hug you?” She asks.

All Cassandra can do is nod letting Morrigan wrap strong arms around her. Hugging her tightly. Holding her in a way that reminded her of her mother before she died. After a moment Morrigan pulls away offering a napkin to wipe her eyes.

“Cassandra, dear, we can be done for today if it’s too much to continue,” Rhysand offers gently.

She nods gently, feeling as if maybe she wasn’t much help at all. The rest of dinner is spent in silence, Cassandra hunched into herself while the other four fae think about killing everyone who hurt this innocent girl and many more.

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It’s later that evening when Cassandra slips from her room. The stone floor is cold under her feet and the satin nightgown doesn’t do much to keep the cold from her skin so she tucks her wings around her body.

She makes her way to the roof of the house, a training area the twins had told her was up here—they had also told her it was the best place to view the stars.

It’s a breathtaking sight. The wind whips her hair around as she walks to the edge. The lively city sparkling below while the endless sky shines above. Beautiful. She sighs gazing at the sight of the silver moon and tapestry of stars.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be up here at this time,” Cassandra spins around, sighing in relief when she spotted Azriel, she hadn’t heard him come out at all.

“Sorry, I couldn’t sleep. I always loved looking at the stars,” She said, grateful Rhys had made it to where she could communicate—at least with the few people here.

Azriel gives her a lopsided smile that makes her heart stutter. “No need to apologize, that's why I’m out here too. The night sky has always been…soothing.”

She turns back to the ledge as he walks closer.

“You know, my father he was ashamed to have children with wings,” Cassandra said, as Azriel watched her from the side, her white hair shining in the moonlight—those green eyes glowing again. “He kept us locked away, and didn't want anyone to see us. My mother had her wings taken when she was a teenager. She said normally they just clipped them but her father was especially cruel and completely took hers away. Well, when my father was drunk enough or didn’t come home some evening my mother would bring us out and let us look at the stars, she taught us the constellations. And I got to see Starfall with her only one time before she died. It was…the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. After she died I never saw the stars again—not until the night you and Cassian took me away from that horrible place.”

Azriel did his best to simmer his anger, to clutch his shadows tightly that so badly wanted to reach out and comfort the female—to wipe away the glistening tears on her cheeks. She looks over at him then and he looks up at the sky so as not to reach out for her.

“Your mother seems like a lovely woman,” He says, hoping the opportunity to talk about her mother may make her feel better.

The smile that came over her face wasn’t what he was expecting. The way it lit up her face had his shadows singing in his ear. Beautiful. She’s beautiful.

She wiped her cheeks with one hand and nodded.

“She was amazing. She tried to protect us from him but she was just as afraid of him as we were. She didn’t know how to get out. But she took care of us. She was still young when she died—he says she died from taking some kind of herbs, that she took her own life. But I—I always believed he did it.” Azriel took in a shuttery breath.

“I’m sorry,” He said, struggling to find the words to comfort her.

“Me, too. I wish I could have protected her the way she protected me. But now she’s up there with the stars looking over us. Watching me, I think she would be happy I got out. I just hope I can help protect someone else the way I should have protected her.” She folded her arms across her chest and turned away from the ledge. “I think I’ll try to get some sleep. Goodnight, Azriel.”

Azriel watched her walk away. Night gown blowing in the wind, the beautiful broken girl disappearing into the shadows.

tag list: @aelinwya @starlightandsouls @fullmoon-94 @aetherl0l @caticorn61 @lilah-asteria @blackgirlmagicforever @div94

#Cassandra my sweet girl #she’s trying her best #slow burn #slow burn but as you can tell Azriel’s catching the feels #I don’t want to rush things though baby Cassandra has a lot to process and heal from #I think it may be a he fell first she fell harder deal #Azriel’s gonna do everything in his power to protect her they’re gonna be best friends too #found family is the best trope btw #acotar #azriel #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction

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harrywavycurly · 7 days ago

Note

It would be fun to see a moment in time when the Lonely couple were bffs but just a little too comfy with each other or maybe one of the times they kissed while besties?

Hiii lovey!! Ohh okay so I just combined these and gave you a little look at a moment between them when they were so comfortable they ended up smooching😂 I hope you enjoy!💖

-find all things Lonely here✨

TW: None

A/N: Harry comes over for coffee and cuddles during some time off during the One Direction days, enjoy some fluff and bickering between besties✨

“Are you saying you didn’t like them?” You question with a hint of annoyance in your voice as you look at your bestfriend who is currently standing in your kitchen licking the last bits of icing from a cinnamon roll off his thumb. “Because if that’s so then next time you make breakfast Mr. Baker.” You tease making him shoot you a glare as you get comfortable on the couch.

“Now that’s not what I said and you know it.” He tries to explain while he looks over at you as he puts his plate into the sink, you just let out a huff while tossing your throw blanket over yourself. “I just said that next time maybe you can try adding-”

“Telling me to add more icing next time is just your way of telling me you thought they were too dry.” Harry has to stop himself from rolling his eyes at you because he doesn’t even know how you got that from his simple suggestion but he also knows there’s a big possibility you’re just messing with him. He takes a moment to watch you wiggle yourself deeper into the pillowy cushion behind your back, your legs stretched out allowing your feet to rest on the ottoman you pulled over to your side of the couch and he feels a smile creep its way onto his face because you just look so cozy even when you’re fussing at him.

Harry had texted you late last night that he was going to be home for a few days instantly earning him an invitation to coffee and some cuddles to which he told you he would be there bright and early to take you up on your invitation. And while the other members of One Direction opted to spend their time off doing god knows what, Harry always made a point to make sure you were one of his first stops if not the first since you live decently close to where he stays in L.A. But one thing he knows about you is that when he’s gone for too long you seem to always be a bit more snarky and sassy with him the first few hours he’s back, so you making an argument out of this doesn’t shock him at all and he knows just the way to get you to stop talking about it.

“And now that I think about it I don’t even remember inviting you over for breakfast?” You point out as you look over at Harry who just rolls his eyes as he walks around your kitchen island and heads straight towards where you’re sitting on the couch. “I remember telling you to come over for coffee and cuddles but-” your words are caught in your throat as Harry leans over and places a hand on the side of your face before his lips are on yours in a quick kiss that leaves you with a light pout on your face when he pulls away.

"So what you're really saying is we need to get to the cuddling part yeah?" He asks with a teasing smile as his bright green eyes stare into yours. "Oh enough with this." You feel his thumb gently brush over your bottom lip. "Now are you done with all the dramatics or do you need me to-" this time Harry is the one who's sentence is cut short by the feeling of your lips on his in a quick kiss that makes his hand fall from your face when you pull away leaving him with red cheeks and slightly wide eyes.

"I'm not being dramatic Harry you're the one who called my cinnamon rolls dry." You ignore his scoff and what you take as almost a look of defeat when you bring up the cinnamon rolls again and that’s how you become aware that his kiss was a silly little attempt to get you to stop talking about it.

Harry kissing you isn’t something that’s new for the two of you, now you wouldn’t say it happens all the time but it has happened before and you’re sure it’ll happen again because when it comes to you, Harry isn’t afraid to be extremely handsy considering when you first met the two of you were fully ready to go to bed together but your poor choices in alcohol had other ideas in mind for that night. But normally you’re not the one initiating the kisses or the physical touches outside of hand holding and hugs, that’s all Harry and it’s usually because he can just sense when you need to be grabbed and pulled into his chest or when you need a firm squeeze of his hand that’s wrapped around yours. So you know the main reason for his slightly shocked and a bit annoyed expression is when he realizes his plan to kiss the idea of him calling your baked goods dry not only didn’t work but somehow got turned around on him so you had to be the one to kiss him to get him to stop talking.

"You can't just shut me up with a kiss that's a bit rude."

"Excuse me? That's exactly what you just did to me so sit down and cuddle me before I kick you out."

"That's because you keep saying I called your cinnamon rolls dry and I didn't. All I said was next time I'd use more icing," Harry sits down next to you and immediately the two of you get into your normal position, his arm is wraps around your shoulders and he's sat close enough to you that your thighs are touching allowing you to share your throw blanket with him as his feet rest on the ottoman. "I'm not sure how you think adding more icing to them would make them less dry? That doesn't even make sense." He mumbles as you rest your head on his shoulder while scrolling on Netflix for something to watch.

"Less dry? So you're saying the ones you ate today were dry?" You try to hide your playful teasing tone but you know Harry catches it by the way you feel a pinch to your side making you let out a squeal.

"I know you're only acting like this because you missed me." Harry acts like he doesn’t notice the small sigh that leaves you or how you lean even further into him as his words hit your ears, the two of you have been friends long enough to know it’s the truth so you don’t have to even try to argue with him about it. “I missed you too love.” He admits with a smile as he reaches over and grabs your hand so he can give it a squeeze.

“You love me don’t you?” You ask as you mindlessly begin to play with Harry’s fingers, he just chuckles at your question because of course he does you’ve been his bestfriend for years now and sometimes he truly doesn’t know how he survives away from you for so long but the texts and FaceTime calls make due when he can’t convince you to let him fly you out to a show or he can’t sneak off for a few days to visit.

“This feels like a set up for a favor of some sort.” You laugh as you lift your head so you can look up at him and when he looks down at you with a grin that shows off his dimples you have to fight the urge to kiss him again. “What do you want?” He asks with a smirk and you think for a moment he’s going to lean down and put his lips to yours but he just places them to your forehead for a brief moment before pulling away so he can look you in the eyes while he waits for you to ask for whatever it is you want.

“I left my coffee in the kitchen.” Harry lets out a dramatic groan as he unwraps himself from you and flings the throw blanket off his legs. “This is why you’re my favorite and I love you the most.” You shout as you watch him make his way into your kitchen to grab your coffee cup.

“Yeah yeah I love you too.”

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simpee9000 · 3 months ago

Text

Not Just Friends - 8 -

M.List : Prologue : Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Words 2.6k

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? Also not edited!! CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

"It's been two weeks," you pointed out, telling yourself and him.

"That doesn't mean you have to be okay already," Katsuki huffed at you, crossing his arms as he leaned against the makeup table in front of you.

You were going on for the interview that you promised that night. Truth quirk and all. They were prepping you right now for it, covering the dark circles under your eyes as they made sure to add highlights.

"I go back to work tomorrow, I want everything to be dealt with before hand," you dismissed. You wanted your plate clean so you could throw yourself fully back into work, you were itching to use the equipment. "Besides, Aizawa is here. He'll make sure to turn off the truth quirk if needed."

He grumbled, watching you intently as you got up, makeup finished and TV ready. "I don't like this." He didn't want you to go back to step one, even if you claimed to be fine.

"I know," you patted his arm, he's been trying to convince you not to. But his PR manager advise you to do it, knowing if you switched up that the public would think the worst.

An assistant knocked on the door, peeking through when you told them it was okay. "You're on in five," and with that, they left.

You swallowed nervously. "It's not to late," Katsuki offered.

"I said I'd do it, so I will," you looked yourself over in the mirror one last time, brushing your clothes smooth before you walked to the door. Katsuki following behind as you waited behind the curtain, ready for your cue. You made eye contact with Aizawa who was on the other side, next to the interviewer with a truth quirk. You gave a small wave and gained a nod back.

"Remember that you can dodge the question, it's not considered lying," Katsuki informed you for the millionth time, going down his prep list, "I studied them, they make you say the truth but not blurt it, so you have time to form your words."

"And now we have Dynamight's girlfriend," the talk show host called your name, greeting you on stage. "She'll be giving us all the details of her juicy relationship with our number two hero! All under a truth quirk." You walked onto the stage, giving Katsuki a nervous smile before turning to wave at the crowd.

It wasn't your first interview but it was the first major one. A huge live audience that filled the room. You shook hands with Gossip, the hostess nickname for the public. Shaking hands with the truth quirk interviewer as well before sitting down. Aizawa stayed off stage, ready to cancel things if needed.

"Nell, here," Gossip called attention to the truth quirk, "Known as 'Spills' will activate her quirk and ask questions about her secret relationship with Dynamight." Nell waved at her introduction, smiling brightly. "We've opened questions to the audience as well, so let's get started," Gossip grabbed a stack of cards from her desk, nodding to Nell to start.

You crossed your legs, hands clasped in your lap as you waited for the effect.

Gossip handed Nell the cards to read out. "You were the one on the phone with Dynamight two weeks ago, correct?"

"Yes, called me while I was making dinner," you laughed trying to add anything you could to the questions because you wanted good press.

"How long have you been dating?"

"Three years," you answered easily, feeling the small buzz of the truth quirk in your mind, "Since second year of high school, even though I liked him way before that." Well, you haven't meant to say that, the truth quirk making the small bit of information slip out.

Gossip grinned at what you were saying. "And you've never liked Deku? No romantic feelings there?"

"He's like my younger brother, absolutely no feelings there," you confirmed.

"You don't even find him attractive?"

"I do, just not like that. I only have eyes for Katsuki really," you didn't even know why you were anxious at this point. Part of you was worried it'd make you slip up, say something in the wrong way and make it seem like you wanted him.

"How cute!" Gossip gushed to the crowd. "Well now that we have that settled, lets get to the nitty gritty." You paled at that.

Opening your mouth the protest before Nell interrupted you, "What about Dynamight annoys you the most?"

You rolled your eyes, "He leaves his socks everywhere. Literally only his socks, everything else he is a neat freak about."

"Anything else?" they pushed for something more.

"He literally argues with himself while getting ready, calling his teeth stupid for getting dirty," you ranted, glad you had no real issue with him.

Nell and Gossip shared a look, unsure of where to go. "What do you love most about him?" the decided to switch from negatives to positives, trying to feed his fan base.

"Oh," you paused, mind swirling with too many truths, "He remembers all the small things," you settled on, talking fondly, "He bought an extra chair for his office because he knew I hated the ones he had. He might not talk a lot but he does so much."

The crowd swooned at how fondly you talked of him.

"Why are you with him?"

"Cause I love him?" you questioned back confused, paleing when you realized you haven't directly said it yet. You've been together for three years and knew you loved each other, it was just hardly, if ever, spoken.

"How about we open questions to the fans?" Gossip turned from you and pointed at someone who raised their hand.

"What's Dynamight's biggest weakness?" the crowd called out, Nell immediately asking you the question.

You froze, Aizawa was being distracted and couldn't save you. You faintly heard Katsuki's loud foot steps coming up, trying to save you.

"He loves his back being popped," you answered, truthfully, the interviews losing the spark in their eye as you didn't give good enough gossip. "Seriously, he loves it. Practically melts afterwards."

Katsuki stood next to you, grabbing your hand and pulling you to stand. "This shit is done."

"Dynamight," Nell called out as Katsuki dragged you away. The truth quirk likely making him stop. "Do you seriously love her?" She spit those words out in a manner that reminded you of the break in.

"Yeah, so fuck off," he barked over his shoulder, pulling you off stage.

---

In just the drive home, your phone was blowing up entirely. You were trending on Twitter, Tiktok, and any social media already. All they needed was an hour. You scrolled through TikTok as you curled in on the couch, swiping from one video of you to another video of you. People were gushing over your relationship, loving how he protected you and how you talked about him.

It turned the fan girls more on your side, having gotten a glimpse of your life with him. They concluded that you were one of them. You even saw videos of how you cheered him on during the first-year sports festival. They took any social media post with the two of you and over-analyzed it. Talking about how you looked at each other.

"Still looking at that shit?" Katsuki called from the kitchen. Currently packing up the leftovers of dinner.

"It's cute," you defended, "They found a photo of us during graduation," you lifted your phone over the couch for him to look, hearing him shuffle over to look.

It was a photo of you two hugging after the ceremony, probably seconds after he asked you to move in with you. "This is horrible for my image," he complained as he saw the caption, "Makes me look fuckin' soft."

You rolled your eyes, looking up at him from where he leaned over the couch, "You are soft."

He scoffed, "Sure."

Humming, you got up from the couch, moving to head to your room, wanting to grab a book from a box. You hardly unpacked, your room still empty as you've been spending the past few nights in Katsuki's room.

"Hey Kats," you called from your doorway, seeing more boxes in your room than before. Probably and entire third of boxes that you didn't put there, you were at work all day, busy with meetings while Katsuki got home early.

"What?" he asked when he met you in your doorway, looking over your room.

You stepped in, glancing into an open box and seeing Katsuki's stuff filling it. "What's all this?"

"Figured with you sleepin' in my room all the time we might as well share," he crossed his arms as he shrugged, leaning into the doorframe.

"Really?" you looked up at him, taking your eyes of the open box, lighting up inside as you looked at him.

"Why not?"

You've been waiting for this since he first asked you to move, but you knew that if you freaked out he would back out. You bit back a huge smile, joy seeping through your expression regardless. "Want to set things up then?" you offered, answering his unasked question of it was okay.

He didn't give an answer before he moved in the room fully, grabbing a box of his clothes and going into the walk in closet. You stepped out of your room, seeing how his old room was empty minus a bed. Smiling, you moved back into your room, grabbing another box of his clothes and placing it beside him before grabbing your own clothes and finally unpacking. You took two of the walls of the closet, him taking the last wall, having less clothes.

Cycling through each box until they were all unpacked, your room looking like a mixture of the two of you. His comforter but your sheets on the bed, pillows stacked the way you loved and his limited edition All Might alarm clock sitting on the nightstand. The dresser being spilt for the two of you with small touches of each of you adding to the room. Giving it personality.

It made you giddy, to see everything done up as a combined. You let a bright smile grace your features as you changed for bed, Katsuki showering in the connected bathroom while you slid under the covers. You grabbed a book from your nightstand and flipped to the bookmark.

Reading through the rest of the chapter before Katsuki came out of the bathroom, ruffling his hair under a towel as he walked in. Hanging the towel up and shaking his head like a wet dog to fluff it back up. He stayed shirtless, how he's been sleeping the past few nights, and only wore his boxers.

You eyed him over your book, watching his arms flex with any simple motion he made. Eyeing him as he walked to his side of the bed, slipping under the covers fully before wrapping his arms around your waist.

The motion was surprising, filling your stomach with butterflies as you accepted his hug. You were propped up on pillows, making it easier to read with the posture, his arm slipped easily under you, his other going under your book. He squeezed light, wearily of the wound that was still present on your left side.

"Your shower is so much better than the one in the hall," he grumbled, digging his face into your shoulder. His shampoo scenting the air as you leaned your head onto his.

"Our shower," you couldn't help but correct him.

"Do we want the old room to be your office? The other mine?" he questioned.

You closed your book, setting it on the nightstand as you held onto his arm. "Maybe one can be a guest room? Your mom called and said she wants to visit," you suggested.

"That hag been callin' you often?"

You slapped his arm for how he addressed his mom, "She's worried."

"Hm," he dismissed, "I don't care."

"The interview wasn't that bad," you changed topics, "Just made me say softer versions of the truth."

He took his head off you, moving to sit up so he could look at you, "They asked you about my weakness? Do you know how bad that coulda been?"

"But it wasn't, I did what I said and nothing bad happened," you matched his glare.

He rolled his eyes, falling back onto you.

"I surprised how cuddly you are," you said, not to tease but point out.

"Fuck off," he scoffed, moving to flip away from you. You hooked your arms over his shoulders, trying to pull him back but just got flipped back over with him, letting out a squeal of surprised. Situated right on his lap, close to his face. His hands held your thighs as you straddled him unintentionally. "'m not cuddly," he pinched your thigh.

"Sure," you teased now, "That's why you've been all over me."

"I can finally touch you, think I'm not going to take advantage of it?"

You pulled back, sitting up right on his lap as you looked down at him. Brows furrowed, "Is your watch always on?"

He shrugged, "Not always, but most of the time, 'round you."

Your stomach dropped, you moved to grab his hand and saw that it was on. Turning his quirk off. "You can't use it that often," you told him, worried.

"I turn it off before I sleep," he brushed off, moving his hand away from yours.

"When was the last time it was off around me?"

"When I was asleep last night," he answered easily.

"Katsuki," you frowned, "That's not good for you, you need to turn it off." You reached for his hand again.

He snatched it out of your hand, "The fuck's your problem?"

"I don't want every time you touch me you need that stupid watch on," you complained. It made you feel disconnected from him, like he had to hide his true self.

"It's not on all the fuckin' time," he argued.

"Then you should have no problem turning it off right now," you challenged. His face was all scrunched in distaste as he looked at you.

"I don't have shit to prove."

"You're using it as a crutch," you dug, "I shoulda never built it for you."

"So you would of prefered staying how it was? Don't want me to touch you?" he argued, getting frustrated that you were upset. Defaulting into anger.

"I'd prefer you," you clarified, "The actual you that doesn't need to suppress his fucking quirk."

"I don't need anything," he hissed, "I was doing it to make you fuckin' happy but now you're all bitchy about nothing."

You widdened your eyes, pushing yourself off his lap finally and moving to your side of the bed. "You'll kill yourself," you commented, "Not having access to your quirk is deadly."

"No I won't," he huffed, not moving from where he laided.

"You're right, cause you can turn it off," you decided, "I'm not going to touch you until I know it's off."

He sat up right, "Really?" he looked down at you.

"Yep," you popped the 'p', "I only made the watch for work training, not sex training like how you're using it."

"That's ridiculous," he tried to reason.

"Well, I'm going to be 'bitchy' about something that'll kill you," you crossed your arms, standing your ground.

He shifted, "So we're going back to square one? That what you fuckin' want?"

"Sure," your chest felt tight, hating how frustrated he was. But your side made sense. "I want you alive."

"I'm not going to die."

"Yep, cause I'm not encouraging you to turn it off anymore."

"Can't kiss you or anything then," he tried to threaten, failing to change your mind.

"Okay," you shrugged. Internally mourning the loss of it already.

"Seriously?" he was in disbelief.

"Goodnight Katsuki," you turned onto your side, making him unable to look at you anymore.

When he huffed and turned away you were worried he'd leave. Go back on sharing a room. Truly test how far you were willing to go.

But all he did was adjust onto his side of the bed, angrily turning his lamp off, darkness coating the room.

At least you had that, but who knows how long you would. You clutched at your chest as you sunk in on yourself. It would suck to go back to how it was two months ago. Not being able to kiss him, or hug him freely.

You've gotten so far and had to throw it away. But it was necessary. The nitroglycerin made his heart run slowly, he needed to have his quirk flowing or you didn't know what would happen. You weren't trying to risk it so you could feel him up.

---

-Next Part-

In them m.list of this fic comment if you want to be added into a tag list <3

I'll no longer add people to the taglist if they haven't commented there. It's too much to keep up with all the new part. Hope you understand <3

@ldk3347 @suki0 @ez4ra @mithicakurogo @aomi04 @ellielover69 @54fangirl @zoast32

@lvc-lv @wildernessflora @xbieditz @poemzcheng @jaxyy219 @truwaifu

@mushroomsneedystuff @kazuumii @keiva1000 @atashiboba @ofcqdesi @americasass1942 @kaboomkayla @ilovedenk-i @iamyoursonly @albakugo @fairiesgloss @limitedstar @i-bitch-you-bitch @drageonix24 @sinyaaa @oddball08 @imsuperawkward @lomlchi @anime-manga-fanatic @irlpadfoot @chocoyanchan @gollumsmygel @yuptha-tsme @icedemon1314 @alstrums @andysdrafts @your-mum3000 @idontevenknow129 @stxrrielle

@supersecretsamm @maeveorsomethinggg @schniti-is-in-the-house @dumbbitchenergy17 @whydoyoucare866

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cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu · 4 months ago

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I think this is part three lol: clickmemysweets

❤💙👱🏻🧑🏻💙❤👱🏻🧑🏻❤💙👱🏻🧑🏻💙❤👱🏻🧑🏻❤💙

Arthur is King and Merlin is his trusty right-hand magical advisor who still refuses to be Court Sorcerer but what everyone wants to know is if they'll finally admit they're in love and marry:

If you're a noble from another Kingdom and you see King Arthur carrying his hissy Magical Advisor Merlin on his shoulder, that's just an everyday occurrence. You'll get used to it the longer you stay here.

Did you see the King carrying his lover Magical Advisor bridal-style to his chambers? That's normal, either Merlin was exhausted from taking care of a magical threat or he randomly fell asleep somewhere.

Did you hear about that noble who tried to blackmail Merlin into sleeping with him? Yeah, one of the kitchen maids, Sarah, overheard and immediately ran to the councils room telling the King who left quickly (with his personal guards following) and found the noble leaning over an uninterested Merlin. After that everything was a blur, all we know is that wanker was punished and banished from the Kingdom. Rightly so if you ask me.

Hey, did you see Merlin? He's looking quite gloomy today, do you know why that would be? Oh? The King and his knights are on a diplomatic visit and he left Merlin in charge? Oh wow. No wonder why Merlin is in a mood...I bet you 20 gold coins the King and his knights run into trouble that only Merlin can get them out of.

Anna! Look! King Arthur is glaring at Sir Powell flirting with Merlin...Oh. OH! Did you see that!? Merlin is eyeing Lady Surrey with a suspicious look! I don't know if he's jealous that the Lady is trying to attract the King's attention or that there's something really sus about the noblewoman. Honestly, it could be both.

❤💙👱🏻🧑🏻💙❤👱🏻🧑🏻❤💙👱🏻🧑🏻💙❤👱🏻🧑🏻❤💙

The citizens of Camelot are gambling folks, they got bets going on about their favourite couple lol

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caxde · 5 months ago

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disposible heroes | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary Eddie is assumed to be dead, you belived it, until music found his way into your live again, and a promise he's still alive is evident (7.2k)

warnings fem!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn, idiots in love!!!, english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read!, canon-ish complaiant?

a/n: thank you to @sage-glowstick for all your help as I was writing this <33

“You know I’m here if you need me, right?” Robin’s voice felt as if it were coming from a thousand miles away, even if she was beside you, her fingers running through your hair, petting you softly.

“I know” Your voice came out croaky, heavy, raspy. Tears were still falling from your eyes, you felt them, the coldness of the salty water running down your reddened and hot cheek.

“Anything you need.” She repeated, wiping it away, her finger on the apple of your cheek a bit longer, trying to make you feel seen.

“It just doesn't feel real.” You whispered, not being able to actually say it fully out loud.

“I know.” She imitated your low tone, standing up from the bed as she looked out the window. “It’s a lovely day out, we could go for a walk.”

“In a bit, maybe.” You gave her a forced, half smile to her. She imitated it before nodding, standing up to finally leave the room, leaving the door ajar.

It was a good day out, sunny and without a cloud, the leaves on the tree outside your window moving slowly.

But he wasn’t there.��

As far as you knew, his body still laid lifeless on the fractured darkened ground of the upside down.

And you hadn’t saved him.

Guilt consumed you.

It was worse, you had to lie to Wayne, you had to lie to the only person that knew him as much as you did, that cared for him as much as you did.

You buried an empty coffin a couple of weeks ago.

And all you had was an old shirt of his, and his guitar pick necklace you had once gifted him.

Your hands closed around it, one last tear falling down as you did so. I miss you, i’m sorry were the only thoughts running through your mind.

After a long time of just thinking, your eyes vacant and your thoughts going a bit too fast. As soon as Robin came to check on you once again, she knew where you were headed off to.

The mix he had made you was still in your car, playing his music as if he was next to you. If you concentrated enough, you could still hear him sing them, in his usual chaotic goofy voice and tone he always used to get you to laugh, though if he was being sirius or was in his own little world he actually had a beautiful voice, an angelical one if you were the one listening.

A weird combination of crying and laughter was now consuming you, as you finally parked your car in the same spot you had for the last few weeks.

It was a weird feeling, you became more yourself the closer you walked to his grave, the closer you came to seeing his name carved in stone, the fuller you felt, as if he was walking beside you.

The wind rustled in the leaves, as birds stopped singing, the sun still shining, your skin soaking it in, your puffy eyes squinting harder because of it.

It was a very scenic moment, you thought as you sat down in front of the carved stone.

“Hey Moon.” You whispered with a heavy heart. The stinging coming back to the back of your head as you looked at the faded graffiti you had cleaned yesterday. “I brought you a bit of music, I thought you might like it.” You fumbled through your bag, trying to find the little portable cassette player you had saved up for, that he had drawn in the back of with one of his markers. EM was here could still be seen in a faint white ink. “I finally got you the Metallica cassette you wanted.” You half smiled, trying not to break down again.

The first guitar notes from the song battery filled the air, you let your body hit the ground right as the bass started, your feet stomping at the melody.

“You’d love to play the guitar solo of this one.” You teased him, mumbling to the sky, your eyes closed, your body relaxing a bit more.

The little portable player was starting to make that funny noise it had been making for the last couple of days, that dirty interference that made you angry every time, interrupting your time, it only infuriated you more now that you were here, trying to be close to him once more. Your arm reached to it, your eyes yet unopened, spanking it a bit, hopeful that it would go away.

It didn’t.

It started going in and out of focus, as if something was tampering with it, or water had crawled in, making the switch to the next song sound as if it was coming from deep underwater, as if a wave had just engulfed the speaker.

“Fuck’s sake.” You complained through gritted teeth, grabbing it and holding it up, wiggling it a bit. As you did, the muffled sound went away, and the thing that should not be started playing.

You lowered the volume, and let the speaker sit next to your ear, letting it sing only for you.

It didn’t give you any trouble for a while, until it started acting up again. This time, the volume went up and down. At first you thought it was random, until you started paying attention. It seemed like a message, and grief invaded you enough to make you believe impossible things.

Your shaking hands grabbed it, pulling it a top of your lap, looking back at where his name was carved before whispering “Don’t fuck with me” as you played the backwards button. Letting the song start from the beginning once again. “I swear to god Eddie if you’re fucking with me I’ll kill you again.” You spat as you mumbled angrily at the air, hoping to be right.

To your astonished surprise, it seemed to work.

The volume went up, as if it was a code, as if he was screaming. If you were honest, you could feel him screaming and yelling the lyrics in that chaotic voice you learned to love and miss.

The very first word of the song spiked up messenger, it felt obvious enough, though it could just be a dumb coincidence. lurking beneath the sea made the volume go up, lowering immediately after it. You kept listening, writing it on the sketch pad you always carried in your bag.

Once the song ended, the previous blank paper had sparesed lyrics over it.

It read a confusing mess that you had to bring to Dustin as soon as possible. You recited it over and over again while you were speeding on the car.

The motor of your car was louder with every gear shift you made, the little orange arrow in your speedometer kept rising, but you payed it no mind. In a similar manner, you didn’t care if your car skidded anytime you made a left turn, the only thing in your mind where the little words you had heard louder than the others.

You didn’t care if your car blocked his driveway, or if the keys were still in the ignition. The bag on your left shoulder felt havier now that it was guarding the little instrument that felt magic. You hands where still shaking and you could stop fidgeting with his necklace, moving it one swipe left and two right as you made your way to Dustin’s front door, not sure what to say, not sure what to do. You were now anxiously looking down at your feet, and the way they moved through the cobblestone, the bumps that they left on your feet.

You gathered enough courage to bang on his door.

But he was taking a bit too long.

Bang

He still hadn’t come down stairs.

Bang Bang Bang Bang

“Jesus what?” He finally opened the door, the usual annoyed look on his face disappearing once he the way your lips were pressed together.

“Upstairs, now. Code red.”

“Can you read it again?” Dustin asked, a pen in his own hand.

“Messenger. Lurking beneath the sea. Forbidden site. Shadows. Underground. Fallen city, living death.” You looked at him, sharing a deep breath. “Then it repeats, Lurking beneath the sea, and ends with not dead”

Dustin stood up, pacing around his room while his hands fidgeted with the pen he had.

“And you’re sure it worked normally before you arrived at the grave?” He inquired, his words pausing between them as he usually did when he was trying to figure out something.

“Look I know it sounds stupid, but… I… It can’t be a coincidence.” He acknowledged just how hopeful and defeated you were, and he gifted you a smile.

“I wanna believe it too, I just, can I hear it now?” You nodded, while you took the little player out of the bag and played the song again. It sounded crystal clear, no interference, no change in volume. “And it changed volume once you were…”

“Yeah, I told you.”

“We should go there, I’ll ask the others to join us there.” He grabbed the talkie while he handed you the phone, letting you call into family video, the number already dialed up.

“Family Video this is Steve how may I help you today?” He sounded as bored as he always was, you could tell he was playing with the telephone chord.

“Steve, can you take your break now?” Your voice was quieter than usual, and that pulled him in, you heard how his elbows hit the table, and the receiver was caught between his cheek and his shoulder.

“Hey honey, everything okay?” His tone was sharper now, you felt the way he was measuring his words, he had become rather used to spreading kindness and handling you with care ever since you had come back, you had no time for that kind of nonsense right now.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m asking you to skip work in the middle of the day.” Your words were coming out sharper and colder than you intended for them to. Irony stinging like a dagger.

“A simple no would also work, y’know.” He answered, a bit hurt, but mostly worried. He knew the number was coming from Dustin’s house, and the only reason you had to go over his house was for one he didn’t dare to think about.

Mostly because the last time you had barged in with Dustin into Family Video he ended diving into cold water, and with a few scars to remember those days by.

“Can you take your break or not? We kinnda need both of you.” You were impatient now, you were speaking faster, snappier, quicker.

“What the hell is going on?” You could physically see him holding the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed while he loudly breathed out into the receiver.

“Steve! Please?” You were begging now, the frustration of wanting to let him know everything all at once, while trying to be careful to not say too much, the fear that someone might listen to you, the impotence of not being able to do enough, it was all enough to create tears that wouldn’t fall.

“Breathe out.” He reminded you. He didn’t know what was going on, or why you seemed to be so aggravated, but he could tell that it was important enough, a sense of urgency clear in your voice. He took a second, looking at Robin while his eyebrows raised she called the ‘the decision look’ and she knew better than to oppose it. “Is this a code red?” He finally asked, wanting and needing you to say no, his head falling deeper once he heard your muffled yes. “Where are we meeting?”

“Graveyard.” You answer quickly, the iron taste in the inside of your mouth becomes more prominent now that you are speaking again. “Pick Nance up.” You told him before hanging up.

You gave a quick glance over your shoulder to check on Dustin. His words were fast paced, he started the second one while the first was still finishing in his mouth, he had no time to lose, which in a weird way, was reassuring for you. Someone cared as deeply as you did, it made you feel not that alone, seen in a way.

You found your way downstairs, your feet feeling heavier and your chest tightening, a fast thought entered your mind, as it grew bigger so did the worry that accompanied it. What do we do if he is alive?

If Eddie really is alive, and he has been there, all by himself for the last weeks he must be pissed off. Not only that, as far as you remembered he was incredibly injured, so he could be right at death's door, a slip away from being actually gone. And if that was really the case, and he was bloodied, starving and a whisper away from death, you’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t at least just try, you had to try.

But then again, that panic was shared.

Dustin did not talk while you drove. He didn’t complain while you smoked one of his cigarettes that he had left on your glove compartment, he limited himself to stay still, biting his thumb as a response to the nervousness that was now deep inside his body.

You parked where you had a mere hour ago, and the birds sang until you found your way next to his gravestone. You looked at Dustin, needing reassurance, he just nodded. Weirdly enough, you were both in a lost for words.

You sat in silence, looking at his name with clear sandness in both of your faces, you hid a whimper, culpability making its way into your body.

“I feel insane.” You confessed as you buried your face into the palm of your hands. Needing just a second to process it all.

“You’re not the only one.” Dustin added, looking back as soon as he heard a familiar car pull into the secluded place you both were, he gave you a soft pad on your shoulder, his head nodding to it so you’d look.

Steve emerged from the burgundy car, closely followed by Robin, Nancy and Jonathan.

Robin’s eyebrows were raised in concern as she ran to where you were, she wasn’t a fiscal touch person, but lately she had been giving you hugs every chance she had, and this time it was no different. It felt familiar, a sense of reassurance you desperately needed.

“What’s going on?” She whispered into your ear, pulling away slowly, looking deep into your eyes. You waited for the other three to make their way up hill, Nancy’s knuckles were white with how much strength she was holding Jonathan’s hand.

“He’s alive.” Is all you could bring yourself to say, before breaking down.

You weren’t even sure why you were crying this time, maybe it just felt good to say it outloud, maybe it was just too much to manage, or maybe you just needed to relise your bottled up emotions. It didn’t matter.

Nancy’s eyes widened, as Jonathan looked at her, not really understanding why you’d say that. Meanwhile, Steve’s arms crossed in front of his chest, he was having a hard time following you.

“What are you talking about?” Steve’s voice was not only lower, his tone had never been as serious, not a trace or irony or sarcasm in them.

“Dustin?” You plead for help, you didn’t think you could manage to explain it all again. Your hands were busy fidgeting with the cassette player, tracing over the speaker, wishing that it would happen again.

“She uh… Well…” Dustin was having a hard time, the possibility that you might be right was a bit overpowering for him.

“I came over, and played him the new record.” You gestured to the empty cassette case with the white crosses on it, Robin picked it up and looked at it closely, smiling in that that’s sweet way that she does when she finds something charming. “And uh…”

“She says that the cassette player started going wild, the volume going up and down by itself, interference, water sound in it. But we played it again at my house and it sounds perfectly clear. And well… The words that were actually louder were like a call for help and if we look at this logically-” Steve cut the explanation that Dustin had started, a crease in the middle of his forehead.

“That’s insane. You’re seeing things where there are none.” He exclaimed, gesturing wildly with his hands.

“Steve…” Robin pleaded calmly, her eyes asking for him to consider the situation.

“It’s not!” You screamed. You needed them to understand, weirder things had happened to all of you in the last couple of years, this was nothing new. “Will was able to communicate with you!” You looked at Jonathan now, trying to make him understand, trying to win him to your side of the argument.

“Yeah but… He actually… It was his voice.” Jonathan mumbled, trying really hard to believe what you were saying, trying to see your side of the story, but the look of desperation on your face was too close to Joyce’s, and that gave him a bad feeling in his stomach.

“He’s alive.” You repeated, looking back at the way his name was carved into the gray stone, how long it took you to be able to accept it, and how it hopefully would be destroyed, as if it never had happened. “And he’s down there, alone, injured and with no strength, do you really think he’s going to start chatting?” With every word you said your tone became higher and higher.

“Look, there is no way he’s alive…” Steve’s voice sounded defeated as he crouched down, closer to your eye level as you were still sitting down at the floor. “We all saw him down there, bloodied and… I get that you want him back, but you shouldn’t make it our problem.” his cheeks were red, as the vein in his left temple became bigger with every breath he took.

“Your problem?” That made you lose it, it was one thing to not believe you, it was an entirely different thing to call you crazy and accuse you of being delusional. “You were the last one out, if he is alive, it’s your fault.” It had been like poison, hearing you say such things. You knew far too well that you were hurting him, his lips were pressed against each other, his left hand holding on thigh to his arm.

“Guys…” Robin tried to calm you both down, exchanging looks between the both of you, knowing full well this could blow everything up. Knowing that pain can be spread around faster than any disease.

But before she could say anything else, her ears perked up, as she heard the way the wind was rustling through the trees, she was a bit too sensitive to these kinds of things, over vigilant after everything she had seen.

“That’s way out of line…” Steve whispered, with clear guilt creeping in through his voice. “You know that if I could trade it… You know I don’t…” He was truly at a loss for words, not being sure what he could say, an extremely defeated expression rested on his face, his eyes avoiding eye contact with yours, looking at the ground, and the way the grass moved thanks to the wind.

“Guys!” Robin screamed at all of you now, as she picked out a rusting coming deep and low from the little player you were still holding.

Silence broke through all of you, as you looked down and started hearing the beginning of a song you hadn’t hit play for, the red light that usually shined bright when it was on was absent from it.

“Did you–?” Dustin started to ask, you shook your head, as a hopeful smile invaded your lips.

You went quiet, looking down at it, a guitar solo started, before you heard the tape playing backwards until the last phrase of the song was found, volume creeping louder and louder reaching out again could be heard from it, you let out a chuckle, a nervous giggle that went around the group as everyone had now experienced what had happened to you.

“What song is that?” Nancy asked directly at you, her face still in clear shock, mouthing the first words since she got here.

“Welcome home” You mutter, with glee in your eyes. “He is here.” You tell her, knowing that she fully believes you, by the way fear was creeping into her body.

“That could just be a coincidence…” Steve was still cautious, not wanting to fully give in. If he did, that meant that you were right, and that he left him for dead, and he couldn’t handle the guilt that came with it.

“Eddie!” Dustin started screaming, directly into the little player that you would not let go of, repeating his name with urgency. “Buddy, are you really there?”

“It’s changing again.” Robin pointed out, as her fingers traced a pattern on your leg, reassuring you that this was actually happening.

It was exactly as it had happened a few moments ago, when you were by yourself, as if water had creeped inside, mumbled and far away it sounded as the song changed to another one, before becoming crystal clear to your ears. The heavy thumping of the guitars starting again, quieting down before abruptly going up once the lyrics Twenty-one, only son, but he served us well could be heard.

You were tearing up now, and you weren’t even capable of hiding it any longer.

But panic came quick once you heard the next highlighted set of words.

Finished here, greeting death, he’s yours to take away

“What’s this one called?” Jonathan asked this time, his head whipping fastly from Nancy to you.

“Disposable Heroes.”

You wasted no time.

Dustin held on tight to his car seat every time your foot pressed the accelerator, everytime you swerved the car you could feel him holding his breath just for him to release it in a nervous manner.

They were all gathered around Steve's kitchen table, arguing over themselves.

You weren’t all there, the only thing going over your head was him, and the promise of actually being able to hear his voice once again.

Your foot kept on tapping the ground, a repetitive pattern that you weren’t able to stop, your hand still playing with his necklace. The chatter of them talking was overwhelming you, they were wasting time and that was infuriating. They were arguing, and you were frozen in the spot. They kept talking and you remained quiet.

Nancy sat down next to you, she still hadn’t said anything either.

Her hand traveled to yours, a top of your thigh. She squeezes your hand, you knew it was her way of telling you i’m here, i’m sorry.

“They’re wasting time.” You finally whispered, your voice hoarse, a trace of sadness in it.

“I don’t think I can go back.” She said at the same time, a trace of guilt in hers.

“You shouldn’t.” You reassured her, not only with your calm voice, but with the same squeeze she gave to your hand, now on her’s. You didn’t have to tell her that you planned on going alone, she had already noticed.

“You can’t.” She finally looked at you, deep into your eyes. You noticed the way her eye twitched before shaking his head. “We barely made it out of there, there’s no way you’ll make it by yourself, and having to carry Eddie or…”

“His body?” She snorted a laugh, trying hard not to giggle, thought the nervous laughter got you too. “This has to be one of the most insane days…” She nodded while you both laughed, catching your breath before she talked.

“I’m watching over you, I’ll stand at the gate. That I can do.” she stood there for a second longer, her lips pursed in that shy smile she usually gave people, the ones she actually cares about.

“Thanks Nance…” You let go of her hand, to give her a playful bump on her shoulder. She nodded as she saw you finally stand up.

Robin looked at you with curious eyes, as she saw you finally leaving the couch. She watched in a quiet manner as she saw you grab the car keys and put them in your pocket, and how you looked around as you put your hair up in a messy ponytail, bumps caused by shaky fingers. She only put her hand around Steve’s arm, her eyes still trained on you, once she saw you pocketing the vodka bottle and the old rag to light it up.

Steve looked at Robin first, following her eyesight until she saw you, trying to not look suspicious as the rag poked out of the pocket of your brown leather jacket.

You knew you were being caught as soon as you heard the sudden silence.

“Woah, woah, hey…Where do you think you’re going?” Steve pointed out, one hand on his waist as the other one gesticulated widely. Confusion and worry evident in the way he spoke, his voice coming up and down like a rollercoaster.

“What do you think?” The frustration was clear in the way you not only looked back at him, but in the way your words sting. “You’re wasting time…” You were now defeated, your hands now buried deep into your jacket pockets, fingers playing around with what you had in them, a way of distracting yourself.

“We’re not.” Dustin tried to make a point, though his furrowed brows read as sadness. “We need a plan, so we’re just trying to come up with one…”

“What plan? We go in, Nancy guards the door, we get him, we come back.” Your shoulders scrunch up as you simplified it all, their eyes switched from you to Nancy, who was still sat down at the sofa, a bit tenser than when you were beside her.

“Nance, you’re not coming?” Steve inquired, his whole body turning to face her from a distance.

“I… I can’t…” Her eyes crystalised as shock emanated from her body.

“She doesn’t have to, I’ll be with her, we’ll keep watch. Right?” Jonathan jumped in, reassuring Nancy, as Steve took a step back. “You’re not leaving my sight.” He whispered in her ear once he got by her side, their foreheads touching.

You smiled to yourself, a sweet moment between them. The world stopped for them, you could tell, and that’s exactly what you were craving right now, and worrying you might never get back.

“Fine, but we still don’t know how to get in.” Steve added, his arms flexing in front of his chest as he shook his head in defeat.

“Watergate.” You mutter.

“You’re insane.” Robin snapped as soon as she heard you, pausing in between words. “Even if we did manage to get down there and it was still open, how do you plan on coming back with him? What if there’s more rabies infected bats around? What if you get stuck there this time? We need to find another gate!” She was now talking in full speed, cascading words as her thoughts entered her mind.

“So we go to the woods!” You whine, frustration and impatience invade you once more.

“The woods?” Steve asked.

“She’s right.” Dustin added, his eyes finally leaving the ground shining as they did so. “Vecna killed Patrick and that created Watergate, so maybe there’s a gate near Fred’s death, like the one in the trailer…”

“What?” You questioned him as you saw him losing the train of thought. “We go to the woods and we get in and out, what’s wrong?”

“We killed Vecna, so the upside down should be collapsing since he isn’t alive and isn’t there to power it so…” He continued as he thought out loud.

“So what?” Steve asked as his voice went higher in tone.

“So it’s crumbling down.” Dustin pointed out as if it was overly obvious.

“So we have to go, now.” You said at the same time, heading to the door, no time to waste.

You heard their footsteps following you as you found your way to your car, you were finally getting somewhere.

You thought you would feel relieved once you saw you were right, what you weren’t expecting was your jaw to clench at the sight of the hidden gate.

It wasn’t big, it was small and weak.

The same thing that happened back in the graveyard started again. The wind picked up, hollowing through the trees replacing the chirping of the birds.

“Take care.” Nancy said with a trembling voice, while her hand was holding tightly with Jonathan’s.

Steve’s grip on his bat changed, firm and steady now, before twisting it a bit, readjusting it so he’d be more comfortable. Dustin’s hands fidgeted with the end of his jacket, patting his pockets checking once again that he wasn’t missing anything.

“If we’re not here in an hour, check in with El, she’s with the others guarding Max, but she should be able to…” Dustin recalled for the hundredth time, going over the plan he had been yelling about in the car drive over here.

“Yeah, one hour. Got it.” Jonathan nodded as he spoke, waving bye as you stepped in.

You just pressed your lips as you heard him.

If you only had an hour, you had to make it count. And it had to start now.

You had never just walked into the upside down. You had always fallen into it, so you didn’t have time to actually feel the veil breaking as your skin found its way in, the viscosity of the red hue, and the dryness that could be felt immediately after that. Your eyes slowly adjusted to the lack of colour and light, as you became hypervigilant, looking up at the sky before the others found their way.

Nothing.

There was absolutely nothing there.

A cloudless sunless grey sky welcomed you, with no thunder or lightning.

If anything, that nothingness was just more unnerving.

Every step they made echoed through, and made you look around, hoping to find something that would make you keep your hopes up.

You agreed on walking to the graveyard, if there was nothing there, you’d find your way to the trailer park and go back.

“Something’s weird.” Steve pointed out, as he looked around.

“Not weird, decaying.” You added, nodding to a grey crumbled up vine. The hole in it seemed to get deeper and bigger by the second.

“Quiet.” Robin said, as she looked up. “There’s no bats, no thunder either.”

“You can still trip though.” You told her as you held her from stepping into a fallen tree branch.

You walked, you weren’t really sure for how long, yet she was right, it was oddly beautiful now. A stuck in time version of Hawkins where nothing seemed to change, where everything looked as if it was straight out of an antique photograph you had found hidden in a cupboard.

You could see the iron gate from the cemetery, the bars on it starting to fold down, as if they were wilting flowers of an old bouquet. You felt as you collectively held in your breath.

It wasn’t long after that that you started hearing someone yelling unintelligible things.

While you were slowly making your way in, Eddie lied there.

He was right where you thought he’d be -unaware that you were near him- an empty space between gravestones, his body falling into the floor, exhausted from getting there, starving and malnourished. He had been talking nonsense for a while, he started whispering it into the heavens, until now, his voice was loud, and even if he didn’t intend to, panic found its way in it.

“Just one more song? Please? I need to know you’re there. I’ll sing along again if you want!” He had been looking at the void in the sky for a long time, he wasn’t sure if it had been an hour or two, to be honest, it felt like he had been there for days. “C’mon baby, please? Just a bit more, a guitar solo, or just… your voice would be nice…” He started begging now, pleading with some force he didn’t quite believe in for something that would indicate you’re there, near. “For fuck sake! I know I’ll die here, at least you could play some music while I do so!” Themix of desperation and tiredness was now getting into him, he looked at his hands and realised how his rings looked bigger, then now danced and moved with more ease. “Or just… Maybe if you light one up?”

At the same time, you started hearing his screams, and you started picking up the pace, running through the maze of granite carved stones, with different names and dates.

Dustin was the first to start screaming his name, while you just focused on running near where the voice came from.

You’d know it was him even if you hadn’t heard him in thirty years.

Adrenaline came over your body, so you rushed until your legs stopped, all of a sudden once you saw him.

He was there, his hand on his stomach, where blackened stains in his shirt layed wrinkled.

He was there, his hair laid perfectly still in a careful knotted mess.

He was there, his chest raised up and down as he breathed.

He was there, and he was alive.

“Moon…?” The nickname you had for him fell from your lips, your tone shaking as you still couldn’t believe it.

He slowly stood up, a grin of discomfort from pain evident in his face. He looked at you, his eyes barely opening up. He was still sitting on the ground, you felt your lips curving upwards as relief invaded you, seeing him smiling at you in recognition.

“Eddie?!” Dustin screamed as he ran up to him, falling to his knees as he hugged him, his head hitting his chest, Eddie’s arms slowly wrapped around his body. “I thought I… We lost you…” His voice was muffled, still you could tell he had started crying.

“I thought I lost you too.” Eddie’s voice trembled as he looked directly at you. His eyes crystalised once he saw the first tear jump from your eyes.

You felt Robin’s hand on your shoulder, a thigh squeeze letting you know it was real. He was okay, and you were getting him back.

She nodded, letting you know it was okay if you wanted to interrupt.

You walked slowly to him, the back of your hand wiping away your tears. You let your body hit the floor, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him.

“Hi” You whispered as soon as you were a breath away from him.

“Hi” He gleamed back as soon as he got you close.

“You’re okay?” You asked, as your voice quivered, desperate to hear him again, talking directly to you.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He nodded as a trembling hand found the back of your neck.

Dustin smiled before stepping back, leaving you both alone for a moment, a much needed moment.

You gave in, melting into his arms. You were both crying quietly now, his hands stroking your hair politely, afraid that you were nothing but a mirage, while yours held on thigh to him, scared that you would cause him pain from needing that close.

“You scared me to death.” You half joked as you chuckled through the crying.

“I’m the one dying.” He added on to the joke, his lips finally kissing your temple, drinking your perfume in as he did so.

“Shut it.” You shake your head as you slowly pull back, your hand now cupping his cheek, as your thumb slowly graces the high points of his cheekbone. “I’m getting you home.”

You thought about kissing him, your lips touching his, melting completely under his touch. But once he leaned in to do so you saw how blood stained his shirt again, your eyes darted from his as you looked down, the red growing wider by the second.

Fear invaded your body again, a sense of urgency creeping over both of you.

“Yeah, we should really go” He grunted through gritted teeth.

It had been a blur.

Nancy grabbed your car keys from your hand, as you helped Eddie inside the car, sitting on the back with him. Cradling him as you talked to him, trying to keep him calm even if you were panicking deep inside.

Steve arrived at his house before you, opening the door wide open, Robin helping you bring Eddie in.

They were downstairs now, phoning Hopper, and El and finally Wayne.

Steve’s bedroom guest had a big window where sun creeped in, a soft breeze helping him cool off as cold sweat dripped from his forehead. You helped him lay on the soft mattress sitting next to him carefully.

You had enough supplies hidden under the bed, you knew you could stitch him up enough so he would stop hurting, you had enough experience patching people up.

“Can you take your shirt off?” You asked him with a slight raise of your eyebrows.

“You already want me naked?” He joked. He tended to do that when he got nervous. You tilted your head as you bent over so you could take the little box full of supplies out of underneath the bed. He chuckled once he saw the box in your hands. He started trying to take his jacket off, with a grunt in his face he shook his head. “I might need help.” He admitted, a grunt on the back of his throat.

“Thought so.” You muttered under your breath.

You scootched over to him, your trembling hands becoming steadier as they found the neck of his jacket, pulling it down slowly. At first, Eddie moved, tried to help. Once he felt your hands against his arms however, he stood still, his eyes not letting go of you, and the way your hands moved with such carefulness and tenderness.

The tips of your fingers were now in between his skin and his shirt, soaked in dirt and blood.

You looked at him before pulling it up, he nodded, his eyelids halved opened, a cautious smile in his lips. He sucked to his teeth as his skin separated from the stiff cloth, your fingers brushed his abdomen with care, avoiding to trace his skin as soon as you saw the grin of discomfort he had on his lips. His arms ached once they were up in the air, the shirt falling off of them slowly.

“It looks worse than I thought.” Eddie grunted as he finally looked down. You guided his torso against the cushions that were prepped up, his hand lingered to your arms, the tip of his fingers burrowing into your skin.

“I’ll clean it up, I’m sure it’s not that bad.” You tried to play it off, a kind smile curved your lips upwards, a little gesture he imitated.

“You must really like me” He started in a soft whisper. “You keep lying trying to make it all better.”

You laughed it off, a short chuckle coming out of him. You started soaking the cotton swab with alcohol, the odor of it filling the small gap between the both of you.

“You know I do.” He smiled in a soft manner, his teeth showing as he tilted his head. “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

You smiled kindly before starting to clean his wounds. They were as if someone ripped and crumpled a paper sheet. They weren’t deep, just repetitive bite and claw marks over the same spot. The big one was on his lower abdomen, another one near his collarbone, a gash on his neck. His arms were full of scratches and deep cuts you had to keep clean.

He didn’t complain. He just let you do whatever you thought you had to, deep down he knew that if he let you take care of him, you’d feel better. And if he was being honest with himself, he enjoyed you dotting and caring for him, you knew it was because he won’t trust anyone else but you.

“You know you could just wait for Hopper to come right? He’ll probably make me go to a hospital or something.” He whispered in an attempt to get you to look back at him, his eyes not leaving yours.

“I know, I just…”

“I’m okay.” He started, reassuring you, trying to get you to stop overcleaning the same spot on his chest. “Hey.” You kept overdoing it, a blank look on your face. “Darling, please…” He begged now, the way his lips said the nickname snapping you out of it.

“I thought you were dead.” You crumbled down, nervous tears threatening to jump out, your lips quivering as you started to talk. “I thought you were gone, Moon…”

“I’m not.” He reached out, his hand finally holding yours. “You really think it’s going to be that easy? You’re not getting rid of me.”

“I buried you… Well there was nothing in there but… I just.”

“I know, I heard you and Wayne talking.” He confessed, his eyes changing, now they were full of melancholy, and a hint of guilt. “I’m sorry by the way…”

“What the fuck are you on?” The words fell right out of your lips, tilting your head as your tone went higher.

“I just… I heard you crying. Begging and all that. I’m sorry I almost died and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything I wanted to, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I loved you before, I’m sorry I left I-” You interrupted him, as soon as you heard the big word. Your hand tightening around his.

“You do?”

“I do what?” He tried to brush it off, the confession had fallen out of his mouth without him thinking too much about it.

“Love me?” You were embarrassed by how hopeful you sound. His free hand travelled to your cheek, slowly stroking it as he looked deeply into your eyes, falling deeply into them.

You gave in, your head now resting in the palm of his hand, he slowly pulled you closer to him. Finally closing the distance between the both of you, slowly, then all at once. His lips met yours, a smile appearing on both of them. It was a careful kiss, a needy and soft kiss. It said more things than you both could ever tell eachother. His lips begged for yours to never leave him again, to let him stay by your side. Yours were yelling for him to be patient, and let you love him in a quiet and slow manner.

You pulled away slowly, your forehead touching his.

You both knew each other understood. Still, he whispered low enough for you to barely hear him, right before you were interrupted by the door opening. “Of course I do.”

“Happy you’re back kid.” Hopper’s voice interrupted the both of you, moving your heads so you could look at him. “I’m sorry but you’ll have to answer a couple of questions, then go to the hospital”

“Stay?” Eddie asked, a promise in his voice.

“Yes. For as long as you let me.”

He kissed the tip of your nose, before talking again.

“Forever then.”

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jjkyaoi · 6 months ago

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LOVE ships that are best friends first and lovers second. childhood friends to lovers is my absolute shit. i know everyone loves enemies to lovers rivals to lovers whatever but i love people who just know each other inside and out. who, when they’re together, are still silly and friendly first and foremost. the type of relationship that can have slap fights and know every single intimate detail about each other. who are constantly glued together and sometimes speak at the same time like freaky twins in a horror movie. i love friendship as a deep aspect of love u bitches js don’t get it

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todofics · 1 month ago

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Off The Market | 3/6 | Todoroki Shoto x Reader

♡ Summary: The Todoroki name had always borne a heavyweight amongst even society’s finest. When the family’s youngest son, and heir to the title, is forced into the marriage market, it’s no surprise that he quickly becomes the season’s most eligible bachelor—hoping to avoid marriage for at least one more season, who better than to circumvent the ton other than his long-time friend, you?

♡ Content: regency au, fake-dating trope, aged-up characters, age gap (4 years), mutual pining, fem reader, fem pronouns, mature content in future chapters

♡ Author notes: Fair warning, but I did not bother to reread this before publishing - something possessed me, and I sat down and banged this out in one sitting. Yeah. Sorry for the delay, but I've been working 6 days a week to make up for the fact that it's flu season (health care is not for the weak). Hopefully, this is still understandable enough for you to enjoy!

♡ 2.5k /est. 15k words (chapter 3/6)

ˋ°•*⁀➷ Main Masterlist ♡ MHA Masterlist ♡ Previous ♡ Next

Shoto left minutes after your agreement with hushed promises to see you later that night, your face only slightly warmer and his with a sly grin gracing his captivating features. God, you could stare at that smile for hours - wait. You shook your head rapidly, lightly slapping your cheeks as you tried to calm your racing heart. Bad (Y/n)! This entire thing was supposed to renew the interest of others in you, not give you fluttery thoughts about your long-time friend.

Fanning yourself in an attempt to cool down, the sound of your mother clearing her throat caused you to jump in your seat; right, she was in the room. In the midst of these new bubbling feelings rising in your stomach, you’d just… forgotten. It wasn’t like you to be so ditsy, but you weren't entirely used to having a chaperone for you and Shoto. It may have been the norm to have a chaperone for young girls and their potential suitors, but the two of you never had that kind of relationship, and your parents trusted you enough to be alone (at least as long as you were out of the public’s eye).

Until now, you had never even thought of him in that manner. Sure, you knew he was attractive - everyone did, and it wasn’t like you were blind - but the thought of anything more than that just never crossed your mind. Although you had been childhood friends, your families were simply leagues apart: you, a lowly untitled noble, and him, a future Duke. That type of pairing was uncommon (if not nearly impossible) in society.

Nevertheless, you knew your mother would have dozens of questions about the seemingly out-of-nowhere courtship; not once since your debut had Shoto shown an ounce of interest in you (at least not in that way). Indeed, it didn’t look good to anyone that suddenly, with an arranged marriage on the horizon, he was showing up to your estate on the premise of being a “caller.” Your mother was old, but she wasn’t dumb; anyone with half a brain could see the potential scheme the two of you were whipping up. Even if she was becoming desperate for you to finally make a match, this was fishy at best. Hopefully, the two of you seemed interested enough to put those potential rumors at ease; after all, everyone longs for a love based upon the foundation of friendship. With a raised brow, she finally ushered you over, drinking her tea calmly as if today was just another day.

“Explain.”

You knew you could never lie to your mother, but you had to at least try. Continuing to fan yourself, the nervous sweat dripped down your forehead - was it hot in here, or was it just you? (It was just you; the full effect of the Summer heat had yet to hit, and the morning time was quite cool). “Explain what?” you asked, tilting your head slightly to add to the picture of naivete.

She sighed, taking yet another sip of her tea; your mother, thankfully, was never the pushy type.

“I do not know what exactly the two of you are planning, but whatever it is, you need to be careful,” she urged, her tone serious as she looked at you suspiciously as if to gaze directly through you and into your mind. You gulped, flashing her a half-hearted grin in an attempt to reassure her. Typically, besides Shoto, your mother was your closest confidante, but perhaps it was best if she didn’t know about this. You already knew that if she did, she’d give you an earful and forbid you from seeing the boy (and that was a fate you’d rather not be forced into).

“I promise you, mama, we aren’t planning anything,” you swore, setting down the fan and opting to raise your hands defensively. She continued to give you that pointed look, only humming in acknowledgment at the promise after a moment of pause. She knew you better than that, but pushing was never the answer with you (she couldn’t change your mind once it was made up anyway).

You knew she meant well with her concern, but you were a grown woman - seriously, you had been out in society now for four whole years - and you could make your own decisions. You were more than capable of protecting yourself.

With one last look over, she sent you away, commenting that you were dressed far too casually for a calling with the future Duke and to dress better for the ball tonight. With a groan, you merely nodded, allowing yourself to be whisked away by a maid to be adequately showered and dressed; even if your mother was suspicious, she still found public opinion far too important (at least to your taste).

Later that evening, dressed to the nines in one of your best gowns and fanciest pastes, you stood with your back pressed to the wall again, swirling a glass of champagne around as you stared aimlessly at the crowd. Although you’d typically be talking with the girls, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to join the conversation tonight, instead choosing to listen to the bits and pieces of gossip they seemed to be so entranced by. This time, however, appeared to be a bit different; although you’d have to really be looking for it to be obvious, you could feel a few glances being cast upon you. It seemed rumors surrounding you were already being spread. None of the other girls seemed to notice the rhythm of the conversation continuing without a lull.

Although you weren’t quite sure what to expect from a “proper” courtship with Shoto (you hadn’t been seriously courted in years now - especially not from someone of high standing), you couldn’t help but look for the man in the crowd. Spotting him wasn’t difficult; his lean stature and peppermint hair made him stand out against just about anyone. It was still early into the ball, and he hadn’t quite made his way over yet, still greeting others of higher status as was expected. It wasn’t until about half an hour into the ball that he approached your little group as others in the area marveled at his presence. It wasn’t often that he found time to stop at the edges of the ballroom - especially not recently - as he was often stuck directly in the center with his family, growing increasingly acquainted with the duties that came with being a future Duke.

“I hope I’m not imposing,” he started, his gaze resting on you as the girls seemed to move to allow room for him. “I was just going to steal (Y/n) for a moment,” Shoto finished, offering his hand to you expectantly. It was well-known that the two of you were childhood friends, so the event didn’t seem to stick out too much to your friends. That, however, didn't stop their apparent excitement.

“Not at all,” Mina chirped happily, the rest of the group nodding along. “Feel free to take her!”

You offered him a weak smile, taking his hand as the girls seemed to giggle at the event (they never once believed you when you said you didn’t have feelings for him). “I hope your dance card isn’t full,” he mumbled, leading you to the center of the ballroom. Your eyes narrowed at the taller man; he definitely knew it wasn’t full. Was he daring to make a jest at you now after his promise? You hadn’t made an effort to dance in so long, nor had anyone made an effort to invite you. Maybe this was part of the reason why you had no prospects.

“It isn’t,” you confirmed, grasping onto his hand a little tighter as the crowd grew denser toward the center of the room. Even if you had longed for someone to finally look at you, this was a bit much. Being with Shoto, in the center of the ballroom, you could feel the piercing stares of everyone in the room; all eyes were on you.

To the strumming of orchestral instruments, Shoto wrapped his free hand around your waist, his other hand never releasing yours as he pulled you close - closer than you were ever accustomed to being. “I know,” he laughed teasingly, starting to sway rhythmically to the song in the background.

You puffed your cheeks out, pouting just a bit at him. Cute. “I knew it, you jerk,” you replied, following his lead; although you hadn’t danced in so long, the footwork was muscle memory. Maybe those dance lessons your mother forced on you weren’t so useless after all.

“Just teasing,” Shoto chuckled, flashing you that boyish grin that seemed to be reserved for just you (at least you hoped so; you never truly saw him smiling as often with anyone as he did with you). You scoffed, allowing yourself to be dipped by the taller man as you moved together in perfect harmony. It was as if you had done this dozens of times.

“And if anyone were to hear you?” you questioned, voice barely louder than the music. No one would hear, of course, but you still had to remind him that you were in public.

“They wont.”

The song came to an end, but Shoto didn’t seem to want to separate, his grip on you tightening as you attempted to step away. “You want this to look real?” he asked, voice hushed as he continued to pull you along as the next song started. If anyone wasn’t looking before, they sure as hell were now. Shoto hadn’t willingly danced for more than one song in ages. Even Shoto, forced by his family, had only danced once throughout the entirety of the last season (and even then, that was with Fuyumi). With this, Shoto was making his intentions loud and clear for anyone to see - you were his.

“People are staring,” you mumbled back, not doing much else to refuse. It was hard to refuse when he was looking at you like that. The intensity of his stare caused you to look downwards, focusing on the movement of your feet.

“Ignore them,” he said, momentarily releasing your hand to take your chin in hand as he directed your gaze back at him. He was quick to take your hand back into his, ignoring the way your (and many others) jaw dropped. “Just focus on me.” Rumors were definitely going to circulate after that.

Although you were usually nervous about being the center of attention, the people staring seemed to fade into the background as you became entranced by Shoto’s eyes; something about being close to him was just so… relaxing. You could easily forget about all of your worries this way.

Shoto seemed to relax as well, letting his guard down as the two of you danced around for many more songs despite the whispers; although he wouldn’t admit it aloud, he was most comfortable with you. Conversation with you was easy - simple. You didn’t flourish your words with the many niceties others in society seemed to; it was refreshing. In exchange for that bluntness, you got to see a side of Shoto he didn’t let others see - the teasing, fun, boyish side. People often forget that he, too, is a person - not just the future duke.

Throughout the various songs, your conversation with Shoto continued in that easy-going manner; you talked about everything and nothing at all. It had been so long since you had a chance to do this. To just… talk.

“I missed this,” he interjected during a lull in your conversation, his eyes looking at you with a sort of fondness you weren’t familiar with (or did he always look at you this way? You hadn’t noticed).

“What?” you asked, the aching of your feet starting to make itself known. You had to have been dancing with him for at least an hour now, and for someone who hadn’t danced in years, that in itself was a feat.

“Talking to you like this,” Shoto finished his musing, a more gentle smile replacing that usual stoic expression on his face. Although the two of you were close, the last season had done a number on your friendship; his father, especially, had pushed him to focus on the family business, seeing his friendship with you as trivial. As of late, it felt like you could count the number of times you’d had an actual conversation with Shoto on one hand.

You could feel that same fluttering feeling of butterflies starting again in your gut as your heart raced, “I missed it too.” God, he really knew how to make a girl’s heart race, didn’t he? A matching dumb grin colored your features.

“Hopefully, we can still talk like this after you find your future husband,” Shoto said, his expression almost wistful as he thought about the future. You were just such a good friend. Your smile immediately fell, reminding you what this plan was truly about.

“Right,” you mumbled, gaze leaving his as you finally broke away from his grip, turning immediately to leave. That was enough for the night. Stupid Shoto and his damn bluntness. Stupid Shoto and his inability to understand anyone’s feelings but his own. “It’s getting late, and I’m tired. It’s about time I retire.”

He nodded in understanding, "Let me walk you out." You shook your head, opting to not respond verbally for fear that your voice would waver. "Then I'll see you tomorrow," Shoto resolved, staring at your retreating figure.

Hopefully, you’d turned around in time to not let him see the beginning of tears pricking your eyes. Hopefully, you were able to mask the hurt in your voice as you bid him goodbye. Hopefully, he couldn’t sense your urgency to get outside that suffocating ballroom.

Fuck. You had feelings for Shoto. Real, concrete, romantic feelings.

Finishing out this deal would be more complicated than you thought. How could you possibly think you could avoid growing feelings for Shoto and his stupidly handsome face? For years, you knew Shoto had never intended to marry, so you had guarded your heart. You had been so careful. Now, here comes one little proposition, and you let your guard down. Stupid. This was so stupid. You were stupid.

Perhaps you should’ve set more ground rules and allowed for more distance between the two of you. It wasn’t like he was trying to make you fall for him. He was far too dense for that - far too dense to understand the effect that he had on people. He was clear from the beginning with you what he wanted, and it definitely wasn’t whatever this was. It wasn’t fair to him that you were upset at him over something he had no control over.

You willed yourself to walk at a normal speed, your pace only increasing once you reached the outdoors. As you continued to run into cover of the evening, you felt like you could finally breathe. Wiping your tears, you took a deep breath and stepped into the carriage. He didn’t deserve this.

So, you steeled your resolve. Feelings be damned, you’d go through with this plan if it was the last thing you’d do.

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