#so i will simply have to Wait and Hear Back from those braver than me on this front!! i could be wrong. who knows!

[hopelesshunny]

the love languages part i: gifts (f.w.)

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: fred doesn't like to admit that he gets jealous when it comes to his girlfriend, after a overhearing a conversation where the love of his life is the topic he goes shopping.

warnings: jealously, slight possessiveness, greasy comments from greasy guys, kissing, fred playfully slaps y/n's butt once.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: this is the first instalment of my love language series, i'm hoping to update it over the next four mondays!! i'm starting a taglist for this series and for my future writings in general which you'll find here, i'm so excited to keep writing for this series and i'd love to hear what y'all think of it - my ask is always open and i can't wait to hear your opinions!!

*all photos are from pinterest*

series masterlist // part ii // part iii // part iv

Fred laid back on his bed, his hands clasped behind his head as he watched his girlfriend adjust her uniform in the mirror. Fred had known Y/N for years but she had become a Weasley family staple after she rescued a very stressed Ron in the library who was pouring over a potions essay that Hermoine had refused to help with. It wasn’t until they had convinced Y/N to spend the summer at the Burrow with them this past year that Fred had finally worked up the nerve to express his feelings for her, and now here she was flashing him that sunshine smile in his dorm room, his mirror, making her way over to kiss his lips.

“You’re staring Freddie.” She giggled, as she plopped down in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Can’t help it angel.” He replied, pressing a sweet kiss to her forehead. “You’re just too good to be all mine.”

“Well-” she started “I can assure you that I am, my love.” He chuckled as he placed another kiss to her lips. She closed her eyes, relishing in the feeling of his lips on hers for a little longer than she probably should have. In all honesty, Y/N had been crushing on Fred for years, long before he had even known who she was. She had simply intended on observing him from afar, sneaking in quiet chuckles at the jokes he and George cracked in class, stealing quick glances at him across the Great Hall as he teased his siblings. But when she developed quite the unlikely friendship with his younger brother and they had invited her to their family home, Fred started to see her in a different light. Y/N had been at the Burrow for over a month when Fred finally realized that maybe the reason he always wanted to be close to her and that he laughed the hardest at her jokes wasn’t just because he wanted to be her friend, he wanted to be her boyfriend, he was in love with her.

She was everything he had ever wanted, the perfect girl for him, but her being perfect made her quite the center of attention. Fred would never admit that he was jealous but the stares she attracted as the pair walked down the hallways always got to him. However, she never noticed the way other people looked at her, probably because she was too busy staring at him, too focused on the feeling of his hand in hers.

“Freddie.” She whined, wriggling in his grasp. “I’ve got to get to the library and you’ve got practice.” She giggled as he buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent.

“The library isn’t going anywhere and they won’t mind if I’m late.” He mumbled which earned a playful scoff from her.

“I have a feeling that your lateness will not be excused.” She replied as he groaned into her skin.

“Fine.” He spoke before placing a playful smack to her butt, signalling for her to move off of him so he could reluctantly get ready for quidditch practice.

“Don’t worry Freddie, I'll find you once you're done.” She cooed, placing a kiss to his lips before making her way out of his room and down the hall, leaving him breathless, once again.

Fred quickly got dressed and started the trek towards the pitch, his head flooded with the thoughts of Y/N, a smile seemed permanently etched on his face. Until he overheard voices from around the corner; there stood two Ravenclaw boys leaning against the wall, and the topic of discussion happened to be his girlfriend. Fred gritted his teeth at the sound of her name coming from such mouths, his jaw becoming tight as he felt his hands ball themselves into fists.

“No, I’m telling you, she knows how to fill a uniform.” One of them groaned as the other laughed in agreement. The thought of someone staring at her, making such comments about his girlfriend made him angry, but the fact that they were looking at her like that, like she was nothing more than a body, infuriated him. She was so much more than that, sure she was gorgeous but she also helped his younger siblings with their homework when they couldn’t figure something out, she baked bread with his mother on Sunday mornings and always reassured him when he felt like the entire world was against him.

“You’re right.” The other remarked. “Don’t know what she sees in Weasley. Merlin, she could do so much better.” He added, running a hand through his hair. Fred couldn’t listen any longer, couldn’t handle the garbage he was hearing.

“And I assume you think you’re better eh?” Fred spoke as he sulked his way out of the shadows, causing the two boys to jump at the sound of his voice. “Quiet now, are we?” He chuckled.

“It’s only the truth Weasley, she’ll leave you at the sight of someone better.” The braver of the two spoke. “You’ll be tossed out soon enough.” Fred could feel the anger bubbling inside of him, but he knew that Y/N would despise the thought of him fighting, especially over her.

“We’ll see about that.” He breathed, feigning a lack of bother, the two boys stared at him, shocked at his response as he simply walked past them.

The week had melted itself into the weekend and the thought of his conversation in the hallway still plagued him, he knew Y/N wasn’t like that, she wouldn’t simply drop him if someone better came along. He knew that she loved him, knew that she barely even noticed those who were interested in her no matter how persistent their efforts in pursuing her were. But he needed something, something to prove that she was his, something that could show that she was proud to be his. After seething over this for the past week, thinking about constantly pulling his jumper over her head or maybe just never letting go of her hand in an attempt to keep greasy eyes off of her, it finally hit him and after a sneaky visit to a jewelry store he had a solution.

“Hey princess.” He spoke, excitement evident in his tone as he took his spot next to Y/N in front of the tree she was leaning against.

“Hi, my love.” She replied, abandoning the book she was reading to lay her head in his lap. He sighed with content, running his fingers through her hair as she gazed up at him, nothing but pure love gracing her features.

“I got you something.” Fred said softly as he ran a thumb across her cheek, she looked up at him, taking the hand that wasn’t occupied on her face into her own, interlacing their fingers.

“Freddie-” She started, but he stopped her, pressing a finger to her lips.

“No, no, no.” He protested. “I know you always say you don’t need gifts but this one means a lot to me.” She stared at him curiously as he continued to speak.

“I overheard these guys talking about you and I tried to not let it get to me but I- I couldn’t.” He spoke, her face softening. “I know you love me and I love you more than anything, I just wanted to get you something that could show everyone that, that could show you that.” He ran his fingers through his crimson hair and let out a shaky breath as she brought his hand to her mouth, gently kissing each knuckle. He was so nervous, he had planned exactly how to go about this in his head, but here in this situation, with her staring up at him with those eyes, all previous thoughts of smooth words and flirting were abandoned. He wanted nothing more than to spill his guts to her, tell her every single reason why he loved her, kiss every inch of her body.

“I always say I don’t get jealous when it comes to you, but I do, I hate it when other people look at you the same way I do.” Her lips quirked into a smile. “You’re the love of my life Y/N, there is absolutely no one out there better for me than you, I’m all in.”

“I couldn't agree more Freddie, all my bets are on you.” Y/N said, rising from her spot in his lap to straddle him. She placed her palms against either side of his face, resting her forehead against his closing her eyes and feeling the heat of his cheeks against her hands. Fred reached into his jacket pocket to reveal a small velvet box, Y/N’s eyes grew wide at the sight. He chuckled, sensing her surprise.

“It’s not an engagement ring angel.” He started, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “At least not yet.” He opened the box, where a simple silver necklace sat, four letters sat in the middle, his name in plain script. Y/N gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as Fred pulled the necklace out of the box and loosened the clasp.

“May I?” He asked, a grin etching itself on his face.

“Of course.” She whispered as he placed the chain around her neck.

“There.” He spoke, leaning back to admire her, she looked so pretty with his name lying against her skin. “What do you think?” He asked, his voice quiet as he searched her face for some sort of indication into how she felt about the gift. She stayed quiet for a moment, simply staring down at the necklace, she ran a finger across the letters as Fred bit his lip, nervous at her sudden silence.

“I love it Freddie.” She whispered, pulling his face to hers capturing his lips with her own before kissing his forehead, both his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids, his lips again and again. He broke into a full fledged laugh until he noticed the tears in Y/N’s eyes.

“Oh no princess, don’t cry.” He chuckled, wiping away stray tears.

“They’re happy tears Freddie.” She giggled. “Just love you so much.”

“I bet I love you more though.” He retorted, resting his hands on her waist as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. “I’ll have to buy you more gifts if you keep kissing me like that.”

Y/N sighed in response, her fingers twirled in the hair at the nape of his neck. They both knew that Fred could never buy her another gift for as long as they both lived and she would still love him as much as she did in this very moment. There was so much uncertainty in the future but right now, with his name around her neck and his arms wrapped so tightly around her waist she knew that no matter what happened in the next month, the next year and for the rest of her life, her love would be completely and utterly Fred Weasleys.

taglist (join here!!)

@onlyfreds

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

fine line - a close reading

gonna cry bc i’m at the end, gonna cry bc it’s fine line.

(x x x)

want to give the same disclaimer as with lights up: this song is so layered, so multi-faceted, that i could never hope to give an exhaustive analysis. due to its vagueness and openness for interpretation, i assume that everyone, just like me, has their own ideas about it and has attached importance to it in ways that no one else’s words can or should alter. this song means the world to me for reasons that aren’t necessarily in this post, and that’s how it is with art that touches us deeply. i’ve tried my best to pull it apart, lay it bare, spread it open, if you will, so it’s almost as free as it can be for you all to form your own opinion on it. in the synthesis i will make my own conclusions, but feel free to ignore that if yours are totally different. i’m just one set of brain and heart taking in fine line and projecting whatever i think is right onto it. alright, let’s go

fine line, track 12

sung in falsetto

live version at the form: first verse not sung in falsetto - after first chorus goes into falsetto - like “thinking of her” has summoned her

live version at the form: first verse not sung in falsetto - after first chorus goes into falsetto - like “thinking of her” has summoned her

Put a price on emotion

pouring emotions into the art you create: how much is genuine / how much do you show - line between being authentic to your audience and giving away too much, wanting to keep things to yourself and not feeling truthful with what you’ve written

exploits of the industry: lay your soul bare - or the exact opposite, some pretend emotion - to score that hit

I'm looking for something to buy

cynical. emotions aren’t genuine, right? where can i go buy some?

～ lights up themes. fake life, industry, being a sell-out

You've got my devotion

But man, I can hate you sometimes

“you” = career, music, Harry Styles™. devoted to the craft, to the job, all the ups and downs of it, despite the hardships it brings 

“man” is deliberate: can be seen as an offhand interjection, like “man, that’s rough”, but nothing is casually placed in this song. “man” is: The Man, the heads in the industry, the people pulling the strings. The man in Harry, the man he’s been in the media all these years, the part he’s played/had to play, the man that’s in him

⟶ “hate you”: hate for industry shit, self-hate created by having to play pretend (～ only angel analysis, the persona of the Bukowski womaniser)

“sometimes” - it’s not fucked up all the time

“you” could also be a lover, but the sudden “hate” there then would be for that person, which is absent in any other song about them, doesn’t make any sense

I don't want to fight you

And I don't want to sleep in the dirt

like there’s a choice to me made, but he doesn’t want to make it: either I fight this “you” or I sleep in the dirt

“you” as the industry: if he doesn’t fight them, he might end up being a beggar, lose all his self-worth bc he gave in to everything they asked/told him to do

“you” as himself: fight your instincts, part of who you are/the persona. if he doesn’t fight to figure himself out, though, he fears he’ll also lose

“sleep in the dirt” as a sense of rejection, as well

We'll get the drinks in

So I'll get to thinking of her

drinks to cope - falling, only angel, from the dining table - or to be braver and confront emotions better - tbsl

who is “we”? who is “her”?

narrative of “you” as “lover” further disproven: if “I” and the lover get together over drinks and “I” starts thinking of “her”?

⟷ “her” could be the lover, but then who is “you”? the industry? some other person, besides that lover, harry is devoted to? multiple lovers, all of a sudden? no.

⟶ “I” and “you” are all harry, that get to thinking of “her” because she is in daydreams with him. the narrative that harry is fighting a part of him, the persona he has (had) to play bc of industry limits, makes most sense. that persona is within him now, and part of his work, but all of him, “we”, is begging to come into the light - of which she is a huge part

We'll be a fine line

balancing act. let everything coexist but pay attention that those lines don’t get crossed the wrong way. what we are, what i am, is a fine line between what makes us go under and what lets us thrive

we will be: determination to fulfil this prophecy, statement of fact “we always will be”

“we’ll be a fine line”: other way of interpreting it is that on both sides of that line is what entails “we”, all that is harry. what merges on that fine line is where it’s just right, when harry is fully himself in every way

“fine line” can also be an echo of criticism, bigotry, in the style of: it’s a fine line between being simply flamboyant and queer, between dressing like that and people thinking you’re a transvestite or summat (cause we wouldn’t want that, now, would we) - “we’ll be a fine line” could be owning all of it. putting himself in the middle of all those messy lines, as someone queer without a category

Test of my patience

patience with himself - kindness to self - took a long time to figure shit out and it was a challenge

waiting for change: industry and its allowances/openness

There's things that we'll never know

my favorite line

“we” = harry / harry and company / us in general, all of us listening 

～ tpwk “i don’t need all the answers”: deep sense of acceptance

peace to be found in accepting this!!

You sunshine, you temptress

“sunshine” - as in all the love songs (blue skies, sunflowers, summer days…): lover - possible that there are multiple “you”s in this song?

sunshine could ofc also be directed at the temptress, still

female “temptress” - “i’ll get to thinking of her” - she - it’s tempting for harry to think of her all the time, to lose himself in the “her” in him

other interpretation for “temptress”: woman he knows with negative influence in his life - resemblance to woman “you flower, you feast”, so echo of Bukowski ～ only angel, kiwi (my sunshine, my love, who is involved with this temptress…)

My hand’s at risk, I fold

⟷ tpwk “dropping into the deep end”

not showing his cards just yet / forfeits

anxious to show all of him, to take the chance, with all the risks and consequences involved

Crisp trepidation

I’ll try to shake this soon

nervousness, anxiety - about (not) taking (enough) chances, (not) laying himself bare (release of the album that reveals much more than before)

“crisp” fresh, this feeling is unfamiliar - change is coming “soon”

sense of agency: I can get rid of this feeling by my own volition and make these changes - hesitant, insecure: “try”

wants to be braver. he’s not going back, but still needs to calmly coax himself further and further into the light, out into the open (“we’ll be alright”)

Spreading you open

Is the only way of knowing you

(can anyone else hear “spread thin” like a whisper under “spreading”? or am i imagining things.)

“you” is back - the only way of knowing “you” is to spread them open - the physical

to spread someone open - very literal, don’t need to paint the picture, or to lay bare, to lay it all out 

⟶ “you” as himself - the only way of knowing who i am is by doing this: writing this album, performing these songs, letting others listen in and form their own interpretations, let this world grow where i’m laid bare and OPEN and exist as this person who has issues, who is angry, who doesn’t know who he is a lot of the time, but is still so happy to be here - let it spread and let it all circle back to me so i can grow deeper into myself

We'll be a fine line

We'll be alright

“we” = h & self, h & lover, h & fans

collectiveness from tpwk

(notes on a piano sounding like drops, like he’s emerged from the water and dripping dry)

SYNTHESIS

Everything about this song is plural. Personal pronouns are all over the place. I, you, her, we. The sound is incredibly layered, with Harry’s own voice echoing through its verses like he’s singing to himself in an empty cave. Meanings can be attached to every word like it’s a wax tablet used too many times. What Harry has said in interviews for once holds pretty true to the actual meaning, in my opinion. 

“It felt like it described to me the process of making it and how the album felt in terms of the different kinds of songs on it.” (Capital FM)

This can mean a lot of things, and I think it means all of the things, of course. It means Fine Line is a summary of all of his emotions he visited on the album, of the things he’s laid bare. And it means that the actual process was also described, as one that can be frustrating and challenging, with added industry shit. 

Harry has expressed straightforward gratefulness to his label for "leaving (him) alone” while making the album and that speaks volumes. This time, he had the chance to make his art without the constant interference of a label, which meant he could weave in criticism as well. “Put a price on emotion” is first and foremost a critique on the industry. It’s the first line of the song, setting the tone for the interpretation of this song is about the risks I took while making this album. It involves criticism on an industry that creates such an atmosphere that only a certain type of music and artist breaks through or can be successful, that limits people in their personal expression. Convinces them that it’s better that way. That it’s better to hide who they love because the general public won’t accept them. That it’s better to create a song about a fake emotion than be honest. Harry loves writing songs and being on stage, but it’s taken a while for him to be fully comfortable there as a solo artist and bloom into the person that could make Fine Line. He loves his career, but it’s also limited his freedom in ways beyond our comprehension, and it’s exploited him to the point where he didn’t know who he was, in ways that have clearly taken a toll on his mental wellbeing. To a point where he finishes this album reassuring himself, most of all, that everything will be alright.

That process of making Fine Line obviously includes Harry confronting emotions he hadn’t before. He has stated that he experienced the highest highs and the lowest lows while making it. There are things he hates, he was fighting but doesn’t want to (anymore), uncertainties he was trying to figure out but had to accept he couldn’t, risks he still doesn’t know he can take without shaking. At the centre of it all is this sense of “knowing you.” The different personal pronouns in the song paint a fractured picture, which is ultimately deliberate. That the “you” Harry is devoted to and can hate sometimes doesn’t line up with “her,” that the end focus does seem to be this “you” that is mentioned in the same breath as “man” and “temptress,” forming the “we” together with “I”. 

After having songs like Lights Up, She, Falling and even TPWK, one of the central themes on the album has undoubtedly been self-discovery, in all its pain and glory. There are no female pronouns on the album besides, obviously, in She, and then here, in Fine Line. She is about a man living with a woman “just in his head”, who “sleeps in his bed while he plays pretend.” It is very clearly a trans narrative, the story of someone struggling to put into words what they’re experiencing in terms of gender. To a point that they fantasise about running away. Fine Line brings the ideas of knowing what it all means, which Lights Up kicks off (“do you know who you are?”), Falling deepens (“what am I now?”) and Treat People With Kindness turns on its head (“I don’t need all the answers”), together. Harry is still doubtful, and the questions asked earlier in the album haven’t disappeared, but he has accepted that “some things we’ll never know.” His aim, however, is still “knowing you.” 

To have Fine Line, as the summary of these emotions of self-growth and self-discovery, echo that one female pronoun, speaks volumes. It is a direct reference to She, to that story about gender. “Her” in this song refers to “she (who) lives in daydreams with (him).” The one who still only fully comes out when they’ve had a drink. The one he’s still working to include in who he is, as he tries to figure out who he is, all of it. The song where he sings in falsetto, just like on Fine Line. Of which he sang the first verse an octave lower live at the forum, switching between those voices, those perspectives. That’s also why “you” in this song is also Harry to me. We get this fractured sense of self, this “I” and “you” conversing over a drink, this “you” Harry is devoted to and wants to figure out. “You” and “I” form “we” and all of them are Harry. The lines are blurry on purpose, there is no way to figure out where “you” ends and “I” begins. 

“You sunshine, you temptress” is the most enigmatic line in that respect, and to me blurs those lines even more between the pronouns. “You” is suddenly also identified by a female noun. And no this isn’t about some kind of love triangle. “Sunshine” aligns with all the odes to his lover in the rest of the album. So what does that mean? That there are multiple “you”s in this song, meaning that Harry is addressing both his lover and a temptress? So “her” he’ll get to thinking of, the only other female pronoun used in the song, is identified as a temptress, but tempting to do what? To take risks? And no I won’t forget the “man, I can hate you sometimes,” where "man” is not a casual interjection but an identifier of “you.” 

Or is it an echo of “the light” from Golden’s “bring me back to the light” and Light’s Up’s “step into the light”? So that the “sunshine” symbolises being in the clear, being out of the darkness running through his heart, the darkness caused by not knowing who you are. “You sunshine,” you beacon of light. “You temptress,” risk-taker and source of anxiety. You, one I need to spread open to figure out, to know about, source of happiness and despair, one I’m devoted to but also hate. You, man, you, temptress. You there, in the mirror looking back at me. 

All of you, and myself included, we’ll be a fine line. And we’ll be alright.

This song is about all of that. The self in art, the self on its own, the other, the journey, the chances, the fears, the passion. Hope. Reassurance. Confidence. And, most importantly, that everything will be alright in the end.

x

read all my lyric analyses here

[lrissa]

You’re Easier To Kick When You’re Kneeling.

summary: you and eren were both titan shifters, getting your ass beat in the court room by humanity’s strongest

warnings: violence, swearing,

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩

“Good luck!”

Where the last words Hanji spoke before shoving you and Eren into the court room. Tension penetrated the air as the Survey Corps gave hard glares to the Military Police.

Spinning around you saw everyone looking to you and Eren. Embarrassment and fear crawled through your nerves, gazing to Eren as he looked just as afraid.

“I’m scared..” You whispered to the brunette, he turned to look down at your lightly shaking physique.

“We’ll be fine.” He gave you a small smile, his eyes creased softly, he wished he could reach out and pat you on the shoulder.

Straining yours eyes forwards you bit down your tongue readying yourself mentally. You noticed two long metal pillars beside eachother, gulping.

“Step forward.” An office spoke as he shoved the barrel of a gun into Erens back. Urging him forwards forcefully, quickly you walked to catch up with him.

Two officers pushed you and Eren apart. Snapping your head to the brunette, he nodded his head to you calmly, his eyes gave you comfort as the man shoved you to your knees infront of the pole.

Together the men picked up the metal and ordered you to place your hands stretched behind you, doing so they let the pole fall back into place. Having you directly connected to the pole and squatted down.

You hung your head low as the hair on your shoulders fell forwards to conceal your face. Your eyes had dilated and your body shook. Fear. Worry. Anxiety.

A door opened followed by footsteps and a chair scraping across the stone as someone seated themselves. The judge.

“Well then, let us begin. Eren Jaeger and Y/N L/N, yes?” He’d adjust his glasses and stare at the small paper in his fingers before continuing. “You are soldiers, sworn to sacrifice your life for the public good. Is that correct?”

“Yes, sir.” Eren answered as he stared bug-eyed at the judge, “Yes, sir.” You repeated after Eren and tilted your head up.

“This is an exceptional situation. The tribunal will be held under military, not civilian, law. The final decision rests entirely in my hands.” The white haired man looked from the paper to us, “Your fate will be decided here. Do you have any objections.”

Looking to the floor you squeezed your eyes shut momentarily, opening them wide again. “No, sir.” You and Eren spoke simultaneously.

“I appreciate your perception. I will be direct. As anticipated, concealing your existence has proved impossible. We must make your existing public in some form, or a threat to humanity other than titans will arise. What I will decide today is which force will have custody of you.”

“The Military Police,”

“Or the Survey Corps?”

“Then, I ask the Military Police for their proposal.”

Your head shifted to the Military Police, watching as a man readied himself before speaking vibrantly.

“Yes, sir, I am Commander of the Military Police, Nile Dawk, I will present my proposal. After a thorough investigation of Eren and Y/N’s body, we believe they should be eliminated immediately.”

Your eyes expanded as he said this. This man hardly knew either of you, not a single fucking thing. Your eyebrows furrowed into a scowl while your hands contoured into fists.

“It’s certainly true that their titan power overcame our pervious peril. However, now their existence threatens to spark a civil war. So we ask them to die for humanity’s sake, leaving behind all information they can.” He finished

Your stomach churned as he spoke, did everyone seriously wish you dead?

“There is no need for that! They are an invasive pest! They have deceived the walls that embody Gods wisdom! They must be killed at once!” A preist yelled at the top of his lungs as he pointed to us with crazed eyes. Freak.

“Preist Nick. Order, please.” The judge calmly stated before shifting his attention to the right side.

“We’ll hear the Survey Corps’s proposal next.”

“Yes, sir. I, 13th Commander of the Survey Corps, Erwin Smith, will present my proposal. We would welcome Eren and Y/N as an official member of our forces, and use their power to retake Wall Maria... That is all.”

You stared at the Commander, that’s all. That’s all? Yours and Erens life were on the line and he couldn’t conjure up another defense statement.

“That’s all?” The judge questioned suspiciously.

“Yes, sir. With their power, we can retake Wall Maria. We believe it is clear what our priorities should be.”

“I see. And where do you plan to begin this mission”The judge stated, “Pixis, the Trost wall has been completely sealed, correct?” He added.

“Yes, it can never be opened again.” A bald man retorted.

“We would like to set out from Karanes, in the east. From there, we will proceed to Zhiganshina. We will determine the route as we go.” Erwin confidently spoke as he stared to the judge.

“Wait a minute!” shouted a man, whipping your head over, “Shouldn’t we seal all the wall gates once and for all? The Colossal Titan can only destroy the gates. If we can strengthen them, we needn’t endure further attacks!” His planned seemed smart but there where missing pieces and it would most likely be difficult to achieve.

“Shut up, merchant dog!”

“With those titan powers we can return to Wall Maria!”

“We can no longer indulge your delusions of grandeur!”

Argued two men as they yelled at one another from across the room, ‘So annoying’ you thought.

“You talk a lot, pig.” A dark voice rung throughout the court, turning your head up you spotted Levi. Behind his tough physique he was actually a bit funny.

“Where is your proof?” Levi continued, “that the titans will wait while we seal the gates? The ‘we’ you speak of are only those you wish to protect, your ‘friends’ who help line your pockets. The people who starve because there isn’t enough land to sow don’t even figure into the thoughts of you pig.” Levi finished as you stared at him with wide eyes, was he seriously protecting you from the Military Police?

“We just thought that we could survive by sealing the wall gates—“ The merchant began, “Silence!” Yelled the priest beside him as he slammed his hand on the railing, nearing the mans eyes. “Impious traitor! Mere humans altering Wall Rose, walls that were a gift from God? Can you truly see those walls? Gods work far beyond human capabilities, and not understand?”

The rest of his words drowned out as your mind took hold, thoughts of the future plundered your head as you squeezed your eyes shut.

The judges taps of his desk brought you back to reality and you snapped your head up, “Silence. You may discuss your personal philosophies and opinions elsewhere.”

“Jaeger, L/N. Can you continue to serve as a soldier, using your titan powers to benefit humanity?”

“Yes, I can!” Eren spoke clearly, the judges cold gaze shifting to you, “Yes, sir.”

“But the report on Trost’s defense says this... ‘Immediately after turning into a titan, Eren swung his fist at Mikasa Ackerman.’” You sucked in a breath and looked to Eren, his eyes extended as he looked to Mikasa. Of course, he doesn’t remember.

“Is Mikasa Ackerman present?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“You are Ackerman? Is it true that, as a titan, Jaeger attacked you?” The old man questioned her.

You sighed softly, ‘As if he can control it yet’ you thought angrily in your mind.

“Yes, its true.”

Gasps of terror rung throughout the court, all eyes falling on Eren in a deathly glare.

“I knew it... He’s just another titan.”

“What about the girl!” Another protested as your head whipped to them, sending a glare to them.

“But, on two previous occasions, Eren saved my life in his titan form. The first time, mere seconds before a titan would have had me in its grasp, he stood between us, protecting me. The second time, he saved Armin and me from an HE shell. I would like these facts to be considered aswell.”

“I object,”

“I believe these comments are greatly colored by her personal feelings. At an early age, Mikasa Ackerman lost her parents and was taken in by the Jaeger household.” Well haven’t you done your homework, you pondered with a small frown.

“Our investigation had also revealed a surprising fact about the underlying events. At age nine, Eren Jaeger and Mikasa Ackerman killed three robbers who tried to kidnap her.”

More gasps could be heard as the news entered their ears, you shook your head. ‘What stupid fucking evidence to have, like they had a choice’ you considered furiously in your mind.

“Even if it was self defense, I must question their fundamental humanity. Is it right to entrust humanity’s fate, resources, and lives to him?”

Whispering and arguing broke out between the different sides, turning their heads to their fellow comrades to spew hatred. What a loss. Losing to this mans ugly mouth. You hung your head and sighed quietly.

“So is she. Do we know if we can trust her!” Referring to you as he pointed. “That’s right! Just to be safe we should dissect her too!” He looked to Mikasa next.

“Wait!” Yelled Eren and looked up to the man, “I may be a monster, but they have nothing to do with it! Nothing at all!” Eren defended as you watched, his spit flying from his mouth as he spoke from his soul. Your heart clenching in pitifulness as you frowned sadly.

“We can’t trust that!”

“It’s true!”

“If you’re covering for them, it means they’re one of you!”

“No!” He screamed and slammed his handcuffs against the metal pole, looking down in defeat, “I mean, you are wrong. But you’re simply coming up with theories that fit, whatever it suits you to fit.”

“Eren..” You said softly as you stared at him, your eyes in pain for him. He was so much braver than you and it gave you courage to see him so persistent.

Looking up you began to speak, “Besides, all of you people. You’ve never seen a titan! What are you so afraid of? What is your point if you do not have the power to fight? If you’re afraid to fight for humanity’s survival then, help us!” Your voice getting increasingly louder as you glared at the pathetic people who called themselves the Military Police.

“Just shut up and trust us!” You yelled your last statement and looked up to the judge, your chest panting heavily as you meant every word.

“Weapons ready!” The Commander of the Military Police shouted while his cadet set his gun on the railing and pointed it to you.

Until your face snapped to the right and pain shot through your nerves, your vision blurred instantly. Metal was all you tasted. A tooth had even managed to fall from your mouth and rolled onto the ground. You blinked to dimish the haziness and looked to your striker.

Levi Ackerman

“Huh?—“

His steel pointed boot slammed across your face again. Your back slamming against the pole behind you. Blood trickled down your nose and down to your chin, dropping onto the floor. Your blood had even splattered small droplets along the stone flooring.

Levi grabbed your collar and shoved you forwards to him. The handcuffs clanging against the pole as Levi stared down at you, his frigid glare locking eyes with your beaten ones before slamming his knee into the side of your head, sending it flying.

Pain. So much pain. It was burning you alive from the inside as all you could do was endure it. Tch, this guy’s a dick.

“Y/N!” Eren screamed from the opposite end. Hatred and worry evident in his tone as he struggled against his own cuffs, “Stop it!” Eren attempted again as all he could do was watch his friend get beaten to the brink of death.

Levi continued to sock you with his boot, giving you zero remorse as he beat the girl below him. Mikasa glared and got ready to jump the railing before Armin held her back.

Blood streamed down your face, a large puddle had began to form under you. You gasped for air before Levi lifted his leg high and stomped down on your head into the puddle of your demise. Grimacing at the filth and pain, all you did was lay there. If someone wasn’t looking hard enough, they’d assume you were already dead.

Croaks of pain left your body as his boot remained on your head, struggling to breath as blood trickled down your nose and into your mouth, unintentionally swallowing.

“This is a personal opinion. But I believe pain to be the best way to train someone. What you need is to be trained like a dog, not a man.”

Your rigid breathes left your mouth as you stared straight at Eren, his eyes meeting yours as he seemed to become visibly furious. Bruised and cuts tracked your once pretty, soft skin. Blood now coating all the crevices in your face.

“It’s easier to kick you while you’re kneeling, too.”

Levi lifted his boot and slammed it into the side of your head once again, giving you no time to breathe he stomped it back onto the cold ground again. Repeating his tourtue when he kicked your head all over again.

Strangled breaths was all you could muster, along with the rattling of the handcuffs as you were thrown around like trash, filling the silence of the fearful court room.

Kick. Kick, Kick.

All anyone could do was watch your doom, “Wait, Levi...”

Your head was pushed against the pole with his boot flat on your face as he turned his head to the one speaking, “What is it?”

His boot fell from your face as you hunched forwards, croaking as you gasped for air, blood trickling down the sides of your mouth.

“That’s dangerous... What if she gets angry and turns into a titan?”

You slowly tilted your head up to Levi, hair falling away from your face and resting on your shoulders. The raven head stared at you for a moment, then shoved his boot back onto your face and slamming it against the pole.

“What are you saying?” Levi dropped his leg again and gripped a fistful your hair, violently pulling you to his face as your eyes struggled to remain open from extreme bruising.

“Aren’t you going to dissect her?” He dropped your hair and stood straight, peering down to your defeated and beaten figure.

“When she turned into a titan last time, she killed twenty other titans before collapsing. If she is an enemy, her intelligence makes her a more formidable foe. Still no match for me, of course.”

Levi gazed to the Military Police, “But what will you do? Anyone persecuting her should also consider that fact. Do you really think you can kill her?” Levi spoke cooly as he stood infront of you, staring you down.

From afar you heard others speak, but your heartbeat clogged your ears as it deafened any other noise. Staring at Levi’s boots infront of you, you noted your blood coating the bottom before gently shutting your eyelids.

You could only hear Levi as he spoke from ahead of you, “I’m certain I can kill her. The only problem is I doubt I can do any less.” Levi proposed.

Hearing the pound of the desk above you, the judge made his decision. But you’d never make out what he proposed.

Footsteps stepped back from ahead of you as new ones came from behind you, uncuffing you and lifting the pole.

You tumbled forwards onto the unwelcoming ground, cautiously opening your eyes to the glaring sunlight that entered through the windows.

Eren ran to you, crouching down infront of you as you saw him shout words at you. He picked your head up in his hands and cradled you in his lap, checking for your pulse.

Your eyes began to shut again, your head lulling to the side to spot the raven head. Levi stared at you from afar, his arms crossed over his chest. The last thing you saw was the ravens dark gaze before your eyes rolled and all you saw was darkness.

be real, we all wish we were the ones being kicked

[luminnara]

Flying On Wings Made From Feathers And Wax | Ganondorf x Gerudo!oc chapter 2

Part one | Part two | Part three

Growing up in the Gerudo Desert is hard. 

The sun is merciless, especially to the small. For someone like Ilula, it is draining, seemingly determined to exhaust her as it beats down on her during the day. It will never stop doing so, but at a young age, she learned how to deal with it. 

The others called her lazy, but she considered herself clever. Just like the lizards that liked to snooze while they sunned themselves, she took naps during the day. It wasn’t that the other Gerudo didn’t—naps were almost a necessity in such a hot environment, and it was common to see be back in an hour signs hanging on merchant stalls—but Ilula simply napped more than the rest of them. 

It concerned her mother greatly. 

Kiluki took her daughter to the best healer in town, the one who looked after the chief and royal family, hoping to find answers about Ilula’s small stature. Just like the Hylian healers, though, this one declared that Ilula was, for the most part, fine, she was just...small. Small, and a bit weak. For Kiluki, a tall, strong vai, who had once been a member of the Chief’s guard, Ilula’s relatively tiny stature and shortcomings were cause for major concern; she knew that many Gerudo never joined the guard, and to keep Gerudo Town running, they needed all sorts. But she wanted Ilula to follow in her footsteps, to become stronger and braver than even she, and Kiluki feared that it was a dream that could never be.

Ilula knew that her mother worked, but what could she possibly do about it? It wasn’t anything that she could control. She spent her days playing or helping Uvira sell her produce while her mother advised the Chief, trying to forget the way that she couldn’t reach things the other girls could. As she grew older, it became obvious that she would never hit a growth spurt, and while Ganondorf shot up like a weed, Ilula stayed at least a head shorter than the others her age. 

“C’mon, pipsqueak!” Ganondorf scooped her up one day, interrupting her midday nap.

“Gan!” She yelped in surprise as he threw her over his shoulder. “Put me down!”

“Not a chance,” the prince grinned as he ran towards the palace. “I’ve been looking all over for you. I’ve got something to show you.”

Even at twelve years old, Ganondorf could carry her easily. He spent his days studying and training, his mother keeping a watchful eye over him and ensuring that her son would become strong and capable. While Ilula had already finished most of her schooling, knowing how to read and write and do simple math, the prince had many years of studies still ahead of him, his chambers lined with shelves full of thick books. Being royalty meant that he needed to know everything about the world, and he enjoyed reading about Hyrule and its politics and history. Ilula didn’t share quite as much appreciation for the Hylian kingdom neighboring the desert, but whenever he was reading, she had a chance to take a nice nap in his incredibly soft bed, and that was something she could absolutely appreciate. 

“It better not be stupid,” she grumbled with a yawn. “Interrupting me on my day off…”

“Day off from what?” He snorted. “You can’t even start real training until you’re twelve. That’s a whole month away.”

“So?” She argued.

“So you can’t possibly be too busy for me,” he rolled his eyes. “Sav’aaq!” He called to the guards at the top of the steps as he passed them. 

“Sav’aaq, my prince!” They snapped to attention, bowing their heads. “Ilula, sav’aaq.”

“Sav’aaq,” Ilula mumbled. She was used to the guards keeping watch over her and the prince, and they had all developed a certain fondness for Ganondorf’s runt of a friend. 

Ganondorf carried her through the throne room, past the chief and her advisors as they pored over a map of Hyrule. They bowed to him as he walked by and he grunted in acknowledgement, too focused on his task to stop and ask what they were doing. 

They allowed him to rush by without interruption. He only had a few years of childhood left before the burdens of leadership would fall on his shoulders, and his mother wished that he enjoyed his time as much as he could. He was growing into a fine young voe, the Sheikah prophecy a distant memory now, and As any voe, he should be enjoying the years of his youth as much as possible.

When he reached his chambers, he threw Ilula down onto his bed. She laughed as she bounced, sitting up to look at him as he grabbed a wooden box from his desk.

“Here,” he said, slightly out of breath as he pushed it into her hands. 

She took it, hearing something rattle inside. “What is it?”

“Just open it!”

With an inquisitive glance up at him, she slid the lid off the box. Inside, something was glimmering, reflecting the light of the desert sun that streamed in through the windows. As Ilula reached inside, she picked up a set of earrings, a teardrop-shaped sapphire hanging from each hook. 

“Oh, Gan,” she breathed, holding the jewelry in her palm as she stared down at it, “these are beautiful…”

He was watching her anxiously. “Do you like them?”

“I do!” She looked up at him with a wide smile. 

The prince let out the breath he had been holding, relieved. “Oh, good.”

“Did you have these made?” Ilula asked, peering closely at the stones. 

“I did,” he smiled. “Just for you. Well, actually, they were going to be a birthday present, but Amira finished them early. I couldn’t hold my tongue for an entire month.”

“This is the best early birthday present I’ve ever gotten,” she beamed up at him. “Thank you, Gan.”

“Oh, they’re not a birthday gift anymore,” he laughed. “I figured out something else for your birthday. These are just normal gifts now.”

Ilula raised an eyebrow. “You really shouldn’t be spending so much time spoiling me, you know…”

“Or what?” He laughed. “You’re my best friend, Lula. You deserve gifts.”

“Well, it’s not like I’m not going to accept them,” she grinned at him as she stood and walked to the mirror on the wall. 

“I put a spell on them.” he blurted out. “To help you stay cool in the sun. Sapphires are good for that.”

She glanced back at him. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I had the jeweler make them and then I enchanted them. I’m supposed to be practicing, and I wanted to try it out…”

“I can’t believe you know magic,” Ilula said as she faced her reflection. “I wish I could put spells on things.”

“It’s not that big a deal,” he shrugged. 

“Shut up,” she laughed. “It’s a super big deal!”

He watched with a serene smile on his face as she took out the big gold hoops she was wearing and replaced them with her new earrings. Just as he had hoped, the bright blue sapphires contrasted perfectly with her fiery red hair…though the thick green band she used to keep it up off of her shoulders didn’t match at all. He made a mental note to add a new, nicer one to the small pile of birthday gifts he would be giving her in a few weeks. 

Ilula admired the way the sapphires hung from her pointed ears. She had to admit…Ganondorf had an eye for jewelry. Maybe it was because he had so much of it himself; as she looked at his reflection behind her, she could count no less than ten incredibly expensive precious stones on his head and arms alone. The perks of being a prince, she supposed.

When he noticed her watching her, he suddenly shuffled his feet awkwardly, glancing away for a moment before looking down at his hands. 

“I’m, uh…glad you like them.” He mumbled. 

“Gan, don’t be sheepish,” Ilula laughed, turning to face him.

He looked up at her, hoping that she couldn’t see the blush on his face. She was the only person who ever made his skin heat up like that, the only Gerudo he ever wanted to be around, the only vai whose hand he wanted to hold. It confused him, the way he felt about his best friend, but he was headstrong and determined not to shy away from whatever he was beginning to feel. 

“I’ve never seen a sheep,” he chuckled. “What does sheepish mean?”

Ilula’s laughter grew louder as she plopped down on the edge of his bed and looked up at him. “They’re soft. Hylians cut their hair and make things with it. They look like fluffy little clouds with legs.”

Ganondorf grinned. “I can’t wait until I’m king and I can see all of Hyrule. I want to go to the castle, see the Hylians.”

“It’s a long walk,” Ilula said. “…well, Mama carried me most of the way, I think. I don’t really remember much of it. I know it rained a lot before we got to the outskirts, though.”

Ganondorf suddenly sighed and turned to the window. He walked towards it, placing his hands on the cool sandstone and leaning on them as he looked out over Gerudo Town and the wide, flat desert outside the gates. 

“What is it like there?” He asked, gazing towards the distant mountains that marked the Gerudo Highlands and the edge of Hyrule. 

Ilula frowned at his change in demeanor and stood to join him. “It’s…green. Everything is green, and you can smell all the plants. And there’s so much water, everywhere…when it rains, it isn’t like here. It just rains for a few hours, and then the sky clears up again, and the birds come back out.”

“It sounds…nice.” He admitted.

“It is,” she agreed. “You can just lean down and drink out of a stream if you’re thirsty. And if you’re hungry, there are apple trees all over! And fish in the rivers, and boar in the woods…”

“I like boar,” Ganondorf laughed.

“Yeah, they taste pretty good, I guess. When you add enough spices.” Ilula shrugged.

“No, not to eat!” He looked at her like she was crazy. “I like the way they look. Those big tusks…there are drawings of them in some of my books. I’ve always liked them.”

“Yeah, I guess they’re pretty cool.” Ilula giggled. “There are lots of other animals, too.”

“Life there must be easy.” He commented. “The Hylians have it all.”

“What do you mean?” Ilula frowned. “I thought you liked the desert.”

“I do, I just…wish we had things like grass and trees and forests. I wish we lived more comfortably.”

“You live very comfortably.” Ilula snorted. 

“What do you mean?” He looked down at her, nose wrinkled slightly. 

“Uh, all of this?” She gestures to the room around them. “The palace? You’re royalty. You hardly have to worry.”

“I have to think about our people!” He argued. “What’s Castle Town like?”

“Busy and big.” Ilula shrugged. “The streets are all made of stone, and there’s a big market where people from all over sell things. Mama didn’t let me go there very much, because of the way the Hylians are sometimes.”

Ganondorf looked down at her in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“They don’t really…trust Gerudo that much.” She folded her arms, hugging herself lightly. “They don’t treat the Rito or the Zora like Hylians, either, but they like them more than they like us.”

As Ganondorf listened, he considered her words. “I’m going to change that.”

“You’re going to change how they think?” She asked skeptically.

“I’m going to show them that they should respect us.” He said. 

“How?”

“Maybe I’ll…send them aid, if they have a natural disaster.” He thought out loud. “Or take a big delegation to visit the castle, or invite them here.”

“The king can’t enter Gerudo Town,” Ilula laughed. “You’re the only voe allowed. Remember, you spoiled prince?”

“Oh. Right.” He chuckled. “Well, I’m going to be in charge someday. I’ll have to figure out this whole diplomacy thing.”

Ilula smiled softly as she looked up at him. “I’m sure you’ll be good at it.”

He grinned down at her. “Only if you help me.”

She returned the grin. “Deal.”

“I don’t think I could handle the throne without you,” he bumped her with his shoulder, nearly throwing her into the wall. “I still have so much I have to learn.”

Ilula stumbled, but she didn’t fall like the last few times he had forgotten how big he was. “That’s why kings always have advisors. Nobody can run everything by themselves.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He sighed, his attention returning to the world outside his window. “I’ve got six whole years to figure it out, though.”

“Yeah, and it’ll be fine.” She tried to bump her shoulder into his arm with the same force that he had, but he didn’t budge. “Hey, seriously, are you made of rock?”

He barked a laugh. “No, I’m just bigger than you!”

“Well stop it!” She snapped, only half serious. “If you keep this up, you’re not even going to be able to see me!”

“Maybe you should just start catching up!” He retorted.

“I would if I could.” She rolled her eyes. “My mom keeps making me go to the healers to figure out why I’m so short. I keep trying to tell her that it’s not that big a deal, but she won’t listen.” 

As she spoke, her tone grew more serious, until it had Ganondorf frowning. “You’re fine.”

“That’s what I keep saying, but it doesn’t matter.” Ilula sighed. “She’s always worrying that I’m going to get hurt because I’m fragile. I always tell her that I’m not, and I know I’m not because you’re always throwing me down off the walls or into the aqueducts or whatever, but she just always gets mad and tells me to be more careful.”

“Do I ever hurt you?” Ganondorf asked, his eyes wide in alarm. 

“No, you don’t,” Ilula shook her head. “I’m serious, I’m not that fragile, but all she ever sees is me lagging behind everyone else. That’s why I want to start training with the guards, so I can show her that I’m fine.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “You know, if you start training, you’ll be busy all the time…”

“Gan, they train literally right outside your window.” She rolled her eyes. “You won’t miss me. I’ll be right there.” 

“…oh. Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“But I bet my mom is going to be all worried about me training, too.” She sighed. “Until i show her that I’m not some fragile little flower. You know, back in Castle Town, I was always the biggest kid. She didn’t worry as much back then.”

“Do you ever miss it there?” Ganondorf asked, studying her face. 

“Sometimes. I miss everything I could get at the market, and I do miss my father. But…I didn’t fit in there. I guess I don’t really fit in here, either.”

“Yes you do.” He nudged her with his elbow, gentler this time. “You’re Gerudo. You belong here, with your people. With me.”

Ilula smiled up at him. “I know, Gan. I think it’s less about the place, and more about who’s there. You know?”

He looked down at her, his heart fluttering in a way he wasn’t used to. “Yeah. I know.”

000

On Ilula’s twelfth birthday, she woke to the smell of meat cooking over the fire. As soon as her eyes were open, she remembered what day it was, and she shot out of bed to investigate the main room of the home she and her mother shared.

“Sav’otta, my little desert flower,” Auntie Uvira greeted her as she prepared breakfast over the small wok in the middle of the room. “Sleep well?”

“Fine,” Ilula shrugged. “Where’s Mom?”

“Right here,” Kiluki appeared in the doorway, a parcel in her hands. 

Ilula eyed it. “Sav’otta, Mama.”

“Sav’otta, Ilula,” Kiluki smiled, holding the parcel out towards her. “Happy birthday.”

Ilula lunged for it excitedly, tearing the wrappings open while Uvira yelled at her to be mindful of the fire. 

As the brown paper fell away, airy pink fabric was revealed, and Ilula pulled out a bandeau top. Matching pants were next, made of a thin, breathable weave, and as she rushed back to her room to try the new outfit on, Kiluki smiled. 

“How do I look?” Ilula asked breathlessly when she returned, holding her arms out as she spun around to show it off.

“Oh, it’s stunning!” Uvira clapped.

“I think it suits you perfectly,” Kiluki nodded. “How is the fit?”

“I think it’s good. What’s for breakfast?” Ilula was buzzing with energy, bouncing over to look at what Uvira was cooking. 

“This is for later,” her aunt laughed as she sprinkled in some Goron spices. 

“We will be eating breakfast at the palace,” Kiluki informed her daughter. “That’s why I wanted to give you that gift first thing in the morning. You should look your best.”

Ilula grinned. Eating at the palace meant getting to see Ganondorf, and as she rushed to get ready, she wondered what sort of gifts he had in store for her. 

She found out soon after she walked through the impressive archway and approached the throne. The chief sat with her hands on its armrests, her back straight as she looked down at Ilula and Kiluki.

“The prince and queen mother are awaiting your arrival, Ilula,” she said, her voice firm and strong. “I would not keep them waiting. Kiluki, if I could have a quick word.”

Ilula glanced up at her mother in confusion, but when Kiluki waved her off, she was eager to run towards the dining hall. It was her birthday, after all, and she wasn’t going to allow herself to worry about anything. Whatever the chief wanted wasn’t of her concern, and when she saw Ganondorf waiting for her with a pile of gifts, any and all thoughts about what her mother could possibly be needed for flew out the window.

“Happy birthday, Ilula,” Ganondorf’s mother, Mira, said, a smile on her face as she watched her son shove a box into Ilula’s arms.

The Gerudo royal family spared no expense. Ganondorf had given her a sapphire necklace, one that matched the earrings, and a ruby wrist cuff that he said would keep her warm at night when the desert winds pierced Gerudo Town. His eyes lit up at the sight of her happiness, and though he had certainly given her birthday gifts before, he was especially glad to see that all of his hard work and pondering over what to get had all paid off this year. He gave her a new sirwal, the light, baggy pair of pants a bright white with golden accents threaded throughout. Then came an assortment of her favorite candied fruits, a beautiful sand sealskin journal, and the biggest breakfast feast she had ever seen.

By the time the unwrapping was finished, the table was covered in a plethora of delicacies. Everything from platters of sliced hydromelons, to gourmet meats hunted in the highlands, to rare seafood brought all the way from the coast, was piled up and presented to Ilula. It was a lavish celebration, the kind usually reserved for holidays or royal birthdays, and with Kiluki returning from the throne room to partake, the festivities were finally truly underway. 

The adults drank as the children laughed and played. They were nearly too old to be doing so, both nearing the age at which they would begin training for adulthood, and one last romp before it all started seemed to be in order. The day was full of merriment and their spirits were high, and as the two tore out of the palace to get themselves into trouble elsewhere, Mira turned to Kiluki with a sigh. 

“He will be devastated,” she said.

“As will she.” Kiluki raised her cup to her lips and drank. 

“How long do you have?”

“I do not know.” Kiluki lifted her eyes. “Ryla did not say…all I know is that we are to return to Castle Town when she deems fit.”

“Why is she sending both of you?” Mira asked. “I hardly see the sense in taking Ilula away from her training.”

“I believe she wants us to keep up appearances.” Kiluki sighed. “Perhaps by the two of us seeming to return home, the Hylians will be less on edge.”

“Still…” Mira sighed again. “I am sure we will all be focused on our tasks, but your absence will be hard.”

“I only wish I knew when we would be leaving.” Kiluki frowned. “Ryla told me that it could be tomorrow, or in five years.”

“And I don’t suppose you’ll be allowed to visit home…”

“I doubt it.”

“Not even if Ganondorf requests it?”

Kiluki pursed her lips. “Perhaps after he takes the throne, he will summon us back to Gerudo Town. I should hope he will see the value in placing me amongst the Hylians, though, and so close to the royal family…”

“Like a spitting sand cobra, nestled right within their own walls,” Mira chuckled. “You must do your job well, for Ryla to send you back again.”

“Yes, I suppose I must. Though it was easier back then.”

“Will you return to that voe?”

Kiluki wrinkled her nose. “Perhaps, if he is willing to see reason.”

“What did you even fight about?”

“Everything.” She shrugged. “Hylian voe have a single use. The rest of the time, they are wholly disagreeable.”

Mira threw her head back and laughed, the hearty sound echoing off the sandstone walls. “That they are! That they most certainly are.”

[supremeinlilac]

The Weeping Angel

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2007

Warnings: none???

Summary: An introduction story with Billie Dean, how you met on the Hotel Cortez's devils night

A/N: For @lilypadscoven !! Thank you for always pushing me and being so supportive, here's your little Billie fic :)) ps sorry for any mistakes, I have yet to go through it <3

Gif by: @illuminated-blue

It wasn’t the first time you’d had to spend a night in a sketchy motel in downtown LA, and although you’d hoped you’d gotten yourself to a place where you wouldn’t need to rely on them, you knew it wouldn’t be your last.

The wallpaper was dusty, peeling at the join of the ceiling to reveal the damp clinging to the walls. You tried to ignore the mildew that crept across from the corners, dark and whispering and eery against the dirty white paint.

There was a hole where a past resident had quite obviously punched through the wall and into the bathroom, showing the fragility of the plaster that separated you from the rooms next to you. The room was alive with past anger, souls in the walls with spindly arms that reached for the living.

It was cold, and you shivered beneath the itch of the hotel blanket, wrapped loosely around your shoulders. The motel windows did nothing to still the cool draft of the city night, allowing it to cut through ill-sealed panes.

You’d left your college accommodation earlier that evening, clothes thrown haphazardly into a rucksack as you’d hurried to leave. You hadn’t time to collect your personal belongings in the rush, so you knew you’d have to return there at some point.

There was no point worrying about the why’s now, you were locked in the room and you were safe. Safely unsafe in one of the roughest areas you could find, but you knew they wouldn’t think to look here. You couldn’t bring yourself to care about the details of your leaving.

You could hear the almost constant wail of sirens as police cars zipped past the motel, piercing and fading as they neared and went.

You sat with your back against the wall, in the space beside the bed. Your laptop balanced on your crossed legs, you connected to the flaky hotel Wi-Fi to try and get some of your college work completed before your food arrived. You still needed to keep up with your work if you were to have any semblance of a future.

A muffled sniff broke your concentration, cutting through the thin wall to you. Trying not to pry, you refocused on the illuminated screen, words blurring as the sound didn’t cease behind you. Sighing, you tore your eyes away from your work and onto the floor.

You were meant to be keeping a low profile, goddamn it.

Listening, an ear to the rough wallpaper, you closed your eyes to better gage if the occupant next to you was simply unwell or was crying. You settled upon the latter when a clatter of what you assumed was the bedside lamp fell to the floor, and the sniffling intensified.

“Are you alright?” you spoke to the wall, wrapping your knuckles against the plaster to show that you were talking to her.

Another sniff, this one an obvious attempt to disguise it as a cough. Feminine, you concluded, closing your laptop and sliding it onto the bed so you could shuffle around.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” Billie spoke, the pads of her fingers coming to wipe hesitantly under her eyes at the smear of mascara.

She stopped pacing at the sound of your voice, coming to kneel at the wall where she thought you’d come from. Unknowingly, you both reached up to the wall with searching fingers, resting on opposite sides in a fateful mirroring. Reaching out.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I-” she paused, voice cracking as she shook her head in surrender, “no.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“I- I can’t,” Billie confessed, forehead falling to the wall with a thud that you felt from your side.

You could practically hear the pain in her voice, the fear. You nodded in understanding, despite her not being able to see you. Luckily for the mysterious woman in room 124, you were capable in the art of distraction and it was an apt skill for moments like these.

“Okay. Well, urm- I, what’s your favourite colour?”

“I don’t- wait what?”

Her confusion had you subconsciously repeating the question, fingers pressed to the wallpaper as if you’d slip right though and into the woman’s arms, able to hold her and chase the demons that plagued her.

“Pink,” she rasped, “like the faded kind.”

You hummed, your stranger in pink.

“What’s your name?”

“Billie Dean Howard,” she paused, a small smile flickering at the corner of her mouth, “medium to the stars.”

“I’m Y/n. Medium to urm, LA?” you laughed uncomfortably, unsure of why she’d spoken her name as if a catchphrase.

Billie’s eyes narrowed to the wall momentarily, were you mocking her? She felt the tugging need to feel offended by your taunt, the familiar jolt of anger under skin. It would be easier to be mad, to rage at the world for giving her this gift and putting her in danger; but the silk to your voice softened her.

“You don’t know me?” She assumed, an expecting tone in her voice that made you faulter. You’d never really been one for reality television, even for factual programs like Billie’s.

“I’m sorry, should I?”

“No, I suppose not,” she trailed off, happy that you were in the dark about her personality. Glad you

People who knew her were curious, always asking questions she would be too eager to answer with a bat of her lashes and a confident tone. But on this occasion, she was relief that no questions would be asked.

Questions about what happened would be dangerous if answered. She knew she could never speak of the happenings if she valued her life, or those around her.

Billie Dean wasn’t stupid. But she was scared.

Your phone buzzed beside you and Billie jumped, hand to her chest to still the frantic beating of a nervous heart. Your food had arrived, and you moved away from the wall with a whispered goodbye.

Your new absence was overwhelming for the medium, panic looming as eyes darted around the dimly lit room. Lights from passing cars cast menacing shadows across the walls, each resembling ghosts from the hotel.

Reaching claws to drag her back to the Cortez, a change of their mind. Why should they let her go, when they could have much more fun with her in that chair.

Tears fell freely again and she let out a strangled sob. The phantom touch of the knife against her throat had Billie reaching up to push it away, the whir of the hand drill behind her closed eyes. She’d been so close to death, practically tasting its breath against her tongue as it mocked her.

The crack of a knock against her door pulled her from herself, and had her hastily wiping her tears with the back of her palm, smoothing down the dress with trembling hands.

Was it her, at the door, ready to finish her off?

Treading lightly against the scraping of old carpet, Billie Dean made her way to the door, fingers ghosting over the handle as she willed herself to be braver.

Through the peep hole, with Billie holding a nervous breath, she saw your back, and how you kept glancing up and down the corridor as if someone were to jump out. So you were frightened of someone, something, too. Just as she was, running.

With a shaky exhale, Billie drew the door open. You turned at the familiar click of the mechanism, a shy grin ghosting on your face as you held the takeaway bags up in silent offering.

Hello.

She was so familiar, almost as if you could reach out and touch her and remember. As if your past self was emerging to greet you again. A phoenix in fire from the ashes, a weeping angel from the rubble of death.

It’s you. It’s going to be you.

You couldn’t help but rake your eyes over the mysterious women silhouetted in the doorway. She looked out of place here. Too perfect to be haunted.

Your stranger in pink wasn’t actually your stranger in pink.

She wore a cornflower blue dress that held delicate white flowers, too dainty and too perfect to be dampened by the tears that tracked through her natural make up. It was cinched at the waist and just served to make her look ever smaller, more frightened. Like a child awoke by a nightmare.

Her hair was dishevelled, and it haloed her face in rays of glowing honey.

A weeping angel.

She wore pearls around her neck. Expensive and slightly scratched, as they get when they are someone’s favourite accessory and must be worn.

You could see where her rosy acrylics had picked her skin raw, worrying it unforgivingly between the nails. See the pain and fear reflected in her eyes, could she see it in yours too?

“Hey,” she whispered, ushering you past her and peeking into the empty corridor as if staying out in the open for too long was dangerous for the both of you. Maybe it was.

In her room you saw no belongings, nothing personal that would serve to tie her to the space around her. It was as if she were an echo before you, neither here nor there. An angel sent and trapped as a mortal, an echo.

She patted the bed beside her, drawing the table closer for you to place the bag on. You hesitantly set it down, moving to perch next to her and shyly look down at hands clasped on your lap.

Uncomfortable silence filled the air, thick and suffocating and it made your joined hands clammy with sweat. You busied yourself by unwrapping the food on the table, there wasn’t much due to your need to save money and only buying for one, but it would go round. You didn’t suspect that she’d eaten that evening either.

“Thank you.” She smiled, and you offered her one of the boxes of food with a shy glance. You assumed she meant for more than just the food. Her eyes conveyed what her words could not.

There was only one pair of chopsticks so you passed it back and forth, wordlessly, gratefully. The hum of the TV balancing upon the wall giving a welcomed distraction from talking, although you talked anyway.

You’d described your degree, your hopes and plans while she listened, the hint of a smile again on the smudged lipstick. She still looked beautiful, you thought, even with her messed up makeup and leg that bounced unrelentingly against the floor.

She still looked like an angel to you, one carved from marble, imperfectly chipped by the sculptor. Too broken to be granted eternity but ethereal all the same. A mortal angel among the living.

The angel spoke with chords of light and you were caught, hanging onto every word that dripped effortlessly from her silver tongue. She spoke about nothing, about everything.

At one point, Billie Dean reached her hand tentatively towards your, searching for the comfort of a strangers touch. You didn’t shy away from that touch; because even though there was safety in loneliness, you couldn’t help but feel the shelter from her invisible wings.

Perhaps Billie Dean Howard could be your safety, and you hers.

You knew she was running, and maybe she could run faster if she had an encouraging hand held fast in her own. Your hand. You weren’t an angel but your hands were steady. They were strong and guiding and made of your own marble. Forged by your own touch instead of the delicate chisel of an artist.

Neither of you asked the other why salty tears dried against the curve of delicate cheek bones, knowing that knowledge would do nothing but bring more pain. More pain that neither needed.

After all, misery likes company, and both of you were content to give that, even just for the night.

You hoped for more, but could learn to settle for a single moment of her presence, if that was all the weeping angel could allow.

taglist: @pearplate @billiedeansbottom @pluied-ete @notokpaulson @extraordinarilycelestrial @nothingbut-a-beautiful-monster @mssallymckenna @magnificent-paulsonn @shineestark @commanderspeach @grilledcheeseandguavajelly @darling-dontforgetme @amethyst-bitch @its-soph-xx @germansarechill @bluesxrgnt @d14n4ol @ninaahs @sarahp-stan @natasha-danvers @imgayandmymomdoesntknow @lovelypeasantjellyfish @rainbow-hedgehog @paulawand @saucy-sapphic @lilypadscoven @citizenoftheworld-stuff-blog @sapphicsarahpaulson @delias-bitch-craft

[five-rivers]

Danger First

Chapter 5

@pocketramblr :3

The day started off well. Really, it did. Izuku got up on time, still filled with warm fuzziness from the time he spent with his friends (friends!) the afternoon before, had a good breakfast, left early enough to catch an earlier train, saw an interesting hero fight, and then...

He was hit with a wave of nausea as he caught sight of the crowd outside UA's gates. Was it a mob? An attack? Terrorists?

... Reporters?

Yeah, those were cameras and microphones. But why was a crowd of reporters making him feel this way?

Maybe they were terrorists disguised as reporters. Or, maybe Izuku had picked up some paranoia to go with his anxiety. How fun.

If they were real reporters, they were probably here about All Might. Him cutting back on active hero work to teach had been big news.

Ughhhh. What should he do? Whoever they were, they weren't likely to leave. He didn't want to walk through them, though. What if they were dangerous? (And even if they weren't, he didn't want reporters looking at him, asking him questions. What would he say to them?)

He bit his lip and watched the crowd from around his chosen corner. Why did he have to be so wimpy and timid? He was a hero student, now. He should be better. Braver.

Oh! There was Iida!

He scuttled over to his friend.

"Ah! Midoriya! You're early today! Few people arrive at school at the same time I do!"

"Y-yeah! I managed to catch the earlier train today, so..." He looked back at the crowd of reporters. Maybe reporters. Maybe terrorists. "I think, maybe we should wait to go in as a group, though. I mean, it'll be more efficient than trying to fight through those reporters one at a time, right?"

"An excellent idea, Midoriya!" exclaimed Iida, waving his hands enthusiastically. "It's very admirable of you, to always be thinking about how to help others."

"W-well," said Izuku, blushing. It wasn't untrue, but it also wasn't the whole story. "I mean, I don't... It's more that they kind of freak me out a bit? The reporters..."

Iida nodded sagely. "There are heroes like that, too. Are you planning on going underground, then?"

There was a certain amount of appeal to underground heroics, but he was supposed to be All Might's successor. Then again, if One for All never worked properly for him and Mr. Yagi asked for it back... Quirk or not, Izuku was here, now, in UA, in the hero course, and Mr. Yagi had said he could be a hero without a quirk.

"I haven't really decided yet. But UA teaches all hero course students the three main branches of heroics, so we don't really have to choose a specialty until later, and even then there are heroes like Sir Nighteye who blur the lines, right?"

"Yes, it's one of the things that make UA such a superior institution!" chortled Monoma.

"Ah, Monoma! I agree! It is important for all heroes to be aware of the work their colleagues do, and to be well-rounded individuals!"

Monoma!?

"Um," said Izuku. "When did you get here?"

"Just a minute ago," said Monoma. "I was looking for a way around these savages when I overheard your conversation. Really, it's a shame that UA allows such rabble to prevent students from entering. If only there was something they could do..."

"I'm afraid I must disagree," said Iida. "Freedom of the press is exceedingly important for the function of society!"

Monoma looked slightly alarmed. "I don't mean to say it isn't, it's just-" he gestured at the gates, "-we can't get in. The other entrances are like this, too. It's aggravating."

"There... might be another way in," said Iida, after a moment.

"Oh?"

"Yes, my brother told me about a hidden entrance that was here when he attended UA. I suppose... I suppose these would be the right circumstances to use it."

"Lead the way, then, Iida," said Monoma.

Iida nodded stiffly. "We should wait and see if any of our classmates would like to come with us."

Several of their classmates did want to come with them, including Uraraka, Asui (who was still a little under the weather), Tokoyami (Dark Shadow was not a fan of flashing lights), and Hagakure. They were also joined by a couple of 1-B students, a cadre of business course kids, and a pink haired support course girl who seemed very interested in Iida's legs, much to his flustered confusion.

Kacchan did not join them, much to Izuku's dismay, instead choosing to bulldoze his way through the ranks of reporters, nearly giving Izuku a heart attack when he body-checked a man with blue-white hair.

At this point, their group was becoming rather large and noticeable, and Iida was getting antsy about the time, so off they went.

Iida led them to what appeared to be an entirely unnoteworthy piece of wall and knocked. There was a pause just long enough to make Iida start to sweat, and then the wall opened, revealing Midnight- Ms. Kayama!

"Oh?" she said, clearly delighted. "Chibiida using the top secret teacher's entrance? Has high school done what we couldn't? Are you finally loosening up?"

Chibiida.

Chibiida.

CHIBIIDA.

First: how? Why? Iida was over ten centimeters taller than Izuku! Secondly: Iida was never going to recover from this.

"That- that's not it! At all! I am simply attempting to help my fellow students enter the school without being harassed by reporters, Ms. Kayama!"

"You can still call me big sis Nemuri, you know."

"I refuse! It would be inappropriate of me as a student!"

Ms. Kayama sighed. "Well, you aren't wrong about those reporters. They can be a pain. So, just this once, let me welcome you kids to the forbidden environs of the staff area!" She made a grandiose gesture with her arm. "And it's all thanks to Chibiida here."

Iida started muttering about propriety and rules.

Izuku had the feeling it would be a long day.

.

"All right, Hikage, in your professional opinion-"

"What does building inspecting have to do with anything?"

"What?" said Nana. "I didn't say anything about building inspecting."

"You asked for my professional opinion."

"Yes?" said Nana, already dreading where this would go.

"I was a vigilante. For the purposes of money, I was a professional, licensed building inspector."

"I thought you were a professional hermit," said En.

"I was an amateur hermit. You don't get paid for that."

En blinked. "I can't believe people let you into their buildings."

"There were a few times-"

Nana decided to table the question of how neither she nor En had known Hikage was a building inspector. "Okay, fine. Forget the professional part. In your opinion, what was going on with that one reporter guy?"

"Oh," said Hikage. "He's definitely planning a murder."

"A murder!" exclaimed Yoichi.

"Yes, and probably of someone close to Ninth."

"Why didn't you say something?" demanded Yoichi, attempting to lift the taller man up by the front of his shirt and failing.

"Because there's not much we can do about it?"

"Just because you're right doesn't mean I have to like it!" He spun on his heel and stalked up to the silent and incomplete ghost of Toshinori. "It had better not be you, do you hear me? Don't you dare pull an Obi-Wan on poor, sweet Izuku!"

"Does anyone know what he's talking about?" asked Nana.

"Not really," admitted Banjo.

.

"Today," said Mr. Aizawa, after he finished passing out feedback from the battle trial, "you'll pick a class president."

All around Izuku, his classmates threw their hands into the air, eager for the chance to show off their leadership skills.

Izuku kept his hand down. It wasn't that he didn't want to stand out or do the work! It was just... between training after school with Mr. Yagi and Aizawa and trying to get his anxiety under control, he didn't think he'd do a very good job.

.

Yoichi started disappearing his "Izuku for President" banners.

.

Iida, though... Iida would do well, Izuku thought. Look at him, organizing everyone into a vote.

"You're not running, Midori?" asked Hagakure.

"N-no, haha, I have too many other commitments to do a good job, I think."

"That's too bad! I would have voted for you."

There was a smattering of agreement, mostly from Iida and Uraraka. Izuku started blushing.

"R-really? Why?"

("Strawberry," someone whispered.)

"Well, you helped me out during the entrance exam, and you were pretty cool during training yesterday." More agreement. "But if you're not running, I guess I'll pick Monoma. He did get rid of the purple creep."

"Ahahaha, yes, I am clearly the superior candidate!" crowed Monoma, standing up and putting his foot on his chair to pose.

"But his personality's really weird, which is why you would have been my first choice, Midoriya."

"I think Iida would be a good choice!" said Uraraka, raising her hand. "He's super organized and he helped a bunch of us get past the reporters this morning."

More general agreement. Then Todoroki cleared his throat. Everyone looked at him.

"Yaoyorozu," he said.

That was it.

"Good point," agreed Jirou.

.

"A TIE?!"

.

As the only one who hadn't voted for one of the three in the tie, Aoyama was forced to be the tiebreaker. This was done as dramatically as humanly possible.

Yaoyorozu was now president of class 1-A.

This led to a ferocious battle between Monoma and Iida that Iida won by a single vote. Monoma was promptly chosen as class treasurer. Just in time for their other classes.

.

"Those who possess forbidden knowledge should stay together," said Tokoyami gravely as he sat down with Uraraka, Iida, and Izuku.

"Are you talking about the staff area?" asked Asui, who slid in after him.

"Indeed," intoned Tokoyami gravely. "The dark path we have all walked-"

"Fumi is just bad at asking people to be his friends!"

"Dark Shadow!"

Izuku almost started crying into his rice. Having friends was so great.

"I'll be your friend!" said Izuku.

"Me, too!" said Uraraka, pumping a fist.

"Ah," said Tokoyami, coughing into a fist. "I am sure we will be great companions in the darkness of the coming days."

Speaking of darkness... Izuku couldn't help but feel uneasy about... something. He had been ever since seeing those reporters.

"So, Midori, is your hair full of secrets?"

"Wh-what?"

"Don't listen to her! She's just being silly! Like a little sister."

"It's what you always say about that actor you like! His hair is fluffy because it's full of secrets!"

"So, you and Dark Shadow are like brother and sister?" asked Midoriya, changing the subject.

The conversation segued into discussion of their families, and just when Iida was extolling the virtues of his older brother, Izuku's unease spiked. He dropped his chopsticks.

"Is something wrong?" asked Uraraka.

"I... don't know? It just feels like something bad is going to-"

The school alarm promptly went off.

.

"Wow!" said Kirishima. "Iida can do entrances and exits! Manly!"

.

"Wow," said Banjo, "I guess they picked the right guy for the job, after all. He can find entrances and exits! More than my class vice president ever did..."

"Are you copying the small red child?" asked Hikage.

"What?"

"Never mind."

.

"Today's heroics class will be focused on how to fall safely and other basic combat techniques. Before we begin, although you may practice these techniques on your own, outside of class, if you want to spar with others, you need adult supervision until you reach a level where I'm satisfied you won't seriously injure yourself or others by mistake. Now, firstly..."

.

"Mr. Aizawa? Is- um. Was it really just the press breaking in earlier?"

It was time for his first special quirk training with Aizawa, and he should be asking what they were doing today (especially since Aizawa had him change out of his gym uniform and back to his regular uniform), but he couldn't stop thinking about the break-in.

"What makes you think otherwise?"

"I'm, well, I'm not sure? I just, this morning, when I saw them, I got a really bad feeling? Like something bad was going to happen. And it doesn't seem, um, logical, that normal reporters would be able to do that to UA's gate. I mean, anyone can have any quirk- no such thing as a villainous quirk. But someone with a quirk like that, they'd put a lot of effort into controlling it and stuff so stuff like this wouldn't happen by mistake. I guess a reporter could have done it on purpose, though, but then it'd be really easy for UA to find out it was them, wouldn't it? Or the police. Since heroes and police have access to the national quirk registry, so you just have to cross-reference reporters with the registry to find quirks that could fit. But would they know that? Anyway, it seems more logical for a third party to have used the press as cover to infiltrate the school. But why? If nothing is missing and no one is hurt, which would be grounds for school being canceled, the next conclusion would be information gathering. But that still leaves the question of the ultimate ends- Mr. Aizawa? Are you okay?"

His teacher had been glaring at a camera mounted in the corner of the classroom and mouthing things at it.

"I'm fine," said Aizawa. He sighed. "You are right that we haven't located the person who destroyed the gates, but please be assured that we are investigating the incident throughly. Especially Principal Nezu." He shot another glare at the camera, as if to say he'd better be.

"Regardless, it isn't something you need to worry about as a student. We're adding more safety protocols to make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Oh, okay. S-so, what are we doing today? Sensory deprivation? Electric shocks? Stress positions? Bean bag barrage for dodging? High stakes hell exam?" He was ready for anything and very excited.

Aizawa stared at him flatly. "We're... doing quirk counseling."

"Yes?"

"Kid... except for maybe the last one... what exactly gave you the idea that any of those things had anything to do with quirk counseling?"

Izuku started to get the feeling he'd seriously messed up. Except he didn't feel particularly anxious about it.

"Oh, uh, Mom used to get brochures like that in the mail, after I was diagnosed? She didn't ever answer any, but... Apparently, some people originally thought to be quirkless got quirks after being in a high stress situation."

"But no one actually did any of those things to you."

"Not really?"

"Midoriya..."

Izuku looked away. He shouldn't have said anything. He didn't like the quirk counselor at Eisley Elementary, but he didn't want to get her in trouble, either. After all, he was the only one she had to do that stuff with, since his quirk hadn't shown up...

Aizawa sighed with the air of someone exercising a lot of self-control. "Except for that last one," said Aizawa, "and that's debatable, all of those are torture techniques."

Ah. Well. That maybe explained a few things.

"They are not a normal part of quirk counseling. At some point, we may incorporate some combat into this, but that will be to help you become more familiar with your quirk. Not just for the sake of making you stressed."

"But if we aren't doing combat, what are we doing?"

"Well, first we're going to try to figure out what your quirk is. Why don't you sit down." He took out some papers as Izuku made his way to his desk. "Alright. I'm going to go through these questions and write down your answers... then we're going to go through them again while I'm canceling your quirk." He paused. "Actually, first. What did you mean when you said you had a bad feeling about the reporters?"

.

"If I were alive," said Yoichi, "I would be committing so much murder right now."

"I thought we left this behind when Ninth graduated," said Nana. "I thought you said you were going to forgive them because they were stupid kids and Ninth forgave them."

"Well, first off, I lied. Secondly, teachers aren't kids. If we ever get hit by a quirk that brings us back to life, the quirk counselor at his old school will be my first victim."

Nana sighed. "That isn't going to happen."

"Who's going to stop me?"

"Less a who, and more the fact that there has never been a quirk that could revive the dead."

"Meaningless!" exclaimed Yoichi. "Death cannot stop me!"

"Think he's finally lost it after all this time?" asked En, leaning towards Nana.

"No, I think he's just messing with us," hoped Nana.

.

"Alright, kid," said Aizawa exhaustion evident in his tone. "Between your answers, your exam results, the battle trial results, how you react when I use my quirk on you, and Monoma's assessment... Your quirk is at least partially sensory.",

Izuku tried not to feel disappointed, but that seemed rather incomplete as a conclusion. Even though he knew about Danger Sense and this probably was Danger Sense.

"Yeah, I know, it's underwhelming, but remember this is the first session. Whatever your quirk actually does, though, you seem to be using it to detect threats."

Okay, that was more in line with expectations.

"I mean... maybe? I think so. That feels right."

"We also need to figure out what it's stockpiling. Have you ever felt any particular draw to certain situations? More than your peers?"

"Um. I watch a lot of hero fights?"

"You're a fight chaser?"

"A little bit?" admitted Izuku, squirming a little.

Aizawa sighed heavily. "I seriously hope your quirk doesn't stockpile danger- don't test that."

He wasn't going to!

Probably.

Speaking of, though, what did One for All actually stockpile? Power was a very vague description... He'd just went along with it because a) quirk and b) All Might, but it would probably be good to know.

"Next time we meet, I'll be running you through the basic quirk assessment battery- that's a series of tests usually given to five-year-olds to help their pediatric quirk doctors and quirk counselors identify difficult or stubborn quirks. You should have gone through it when you were younger."

Izuku shook his head. "All I remember is the x-ray."

"Why would you get an x-ray?"

"For the toe joint? To tell whether or not I was quirkless?" Why was he saying this? He was going to blow his cover and his secret out of the water! This was so dumb.

But he did say it. Maybe it was his guilty conscience from lying to and misleading Mr. Aizawa so much.

"That's a myth," said Aizawa.

"What?"

"It isn't true." Aizawa began to slump down in his seat. "It's an old wives' tale. Everyone quirkless has the double joint, but not everyone with the double joint is quirkless. I have the double joint, as do about twenty-five percent of people with meta quirks." By the time he finished, only the top half of his face was visible.

"Oh," said Izuku. He wasn't sure what else to say. At least the secret of One for All was completely intact.

"I hate to say this, kid, but it sounds like everyone involved in your early quirk education was incredibly incompetent. You shouldn't have had to deal with that, even if you were truly quirkless. It takes just as much counseling to deal with that in today's day and age as something like, say, Ashido's quirk."

Izuku had never heard it put like that before. "Okay."

"Now, before I send you off for today, do you have any questions about anything we'll be doing? Any of the tests we'll be running, normal quirk counseling procedures, anything. It's important for you to feel comfortable about this."

Izuku's eyes teared up. This had already been a very emotional day, and he wasn't sure a teacher had ever asked him that and meant it. "Mr. Aizawa," he said, earnestly, "you're the best teacher I've ever had."

"Is that a joke?" asked Aizawa, flatly.

Izuku shook his head, centrifugal force flinging his teardrops away.

"That's messed up, kid. I'm terrible."

"You're the best," protested Izuku.

"I just need you to know how incredibly low that bar is. Your other teachers must have gotten shovels to dig tunnels under it. They must be dancing limbo in hell."

Izuku blinked. He had no idea what that meant. "I think they're all still alive..."

"Not for long," muttered Aizawa.

[bokutosworld]

perfect match | miya osamu

a/n: i am so thrilled that haikyuu is back!!! can’t wait to see more of inarizaki and (excuse my bias) osamu!!!! <3 so here’s a very self-indulgent piece in celebration of their comeback haha 

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

wc: 2.6k words of fluff and bit of angst if you squint lmfao.  

summary: in which you and osamu go in circles, walking the fine line between keeping the friendship or taking the leap in your relationship. inspired by the prompts: “It’s you, it’s always been you.”  + “Are you really gonna leave without asking me the question you’ve been dying to ask me?”

--

'for the last time, i am telling you oyakodon cannot be better than katsudon. nothing beats a good crisp, deep-fried pork or chicken over a steaming bowl of rice,' you said, putting your lunch tray on the table with a thud and settling on the bench.

'yeah, sure. but they're basically the same thing,' he slips in the space next to you, placing his food and getting his chopsticks ready. 'they're both donburi meals, only difference is how they're prepared. what matters is they're both delicious.'

taking a spoonful of your meal, you chew fast before deciding to answer back, 'i know that.' you pause to catch your breath, earning a worried glance from osamu as if he telling you to eat slowly. 'but katsudon just ranks superior. end of discussion.'

the both of you, cooped up in your own conversation, were oblivious to the stares and smirks of your friends in the table. atsumu, deciding to be the braver among the peers, cuts through the silence. 'you know, we could hear you bickering from the queue all the way here,' a hint of tease evident in his voice and osamu smacks his twin.

suna perks up, joining the conversation, 'that's like the third discourse they had today, man. and it's only lunchtime.' the rest of the group laughs and shakes their head, as atsumu adds, 'will there ever be a day where we enjoy some peace and the two of you just quietly get along?'

you share a look with osamu who simply shrugs and continues to chomp down (albeit rather cutely) his food. your friends weren't wrong but it's not like you and the boy hated each other's guts. your close friendship with him was comfortable, so much so that the two of you would talk and argue literally about anything. but as always, there were no hard feelings in those moments of disagreements.

it's just the way it has been since the day you met the twins in middle school. they were both kind and took care of you like their little sister. but somehow, you found yourself growing more attached with the quieter twin. there was something about conversing with osamu that made you feel like you can open up to him about anything. he was smart, a good listener, a natural conversationalist that he always had something ready to answer to your quips. he would always indulge whatever topic you brought up and challenge your ideas and beliefs - the latest one being the katsudon versus oyakodon dispute.

you notice the piece of rice stuck in the corner of osamu's mouth, and you were just about to wipe it off when hikari calls out your name. your hand falls limp on your side and you turn to her, 'what's up?'

'are you free this weekend? i was supposed to set up my cousin on a blind date with my co-worker but she just informed me that she can't go. they have exams this week. so,' she purposely dragged on her words, weighing if would consider being the substitute. raising an eyebrow at her, you completed the sentence for her, 'so, you want me to go on the blind date?'

she beamed, clasping her hands together as if she was reciting a prayer. 'please! i will owe you my life, this is a one time thing, i swear! i made him a promise. you know how i hate breaking promises.'

osamu took note of the way you sighed and how your shoulders slumped at your friend's request. you were never one to say no, you always found it difficult with your kind-hearted nature. so it wasn't a surprise to him when you turned and asked, 'we don't have anything planned for this weekend, right?'

truthfully, osamu wanted to say that you did have some sort of hangout planned. he didn't know why he was finding it hard to say no right now, so he was relieved when his brother spoke. 'you should be free, y/n,' swinging his arm around his twin's shoulders, atsumu looked at him and smirked. 'besides, we have a practice match this weekend. we wouldn't be able to do the usual hangout 'til after 6pm.'

this made you exclaim, 'great! you can give that guy my number then!' hikari proceeded to tell you the details - it was happening on saturday. she already arranged for the meetup time and place to be 10 am at the subway station near the park.

as hikari continued to talk to you about your date, osamu couldn't help but listen in on the conversation and take note of the details. he didn't miss the way your eyes lit up at the mention of your date's name - taichi - to which you remarked that it was 'a handsome name.' osamu rolled his eyes at that. lost in his own thoughts and conflicted feelings about your blind date, he wasn't able to control his facial reactions anymore - a slight look of envy and disappointment ghosting over his features and atsumu was enjoying every bit of it.

weekend arrived and to say that you were excited for the blind date was an understatement. you were looking forward to it, the evidence seen in the way you have prepared your outfit (with the help of osamu who you video called last night). as your closest friend, osamu tried his best to be thrilled and happy for you. he knew you have been wanting to experience a first date for a while now. but a feeling was gnawing at him, a feeling that wishes it was him who was taking you out on that weekend. nonetheless, he gave you a pep talk and reminded you to just have fun and be yourself.

so here you are now, standing in the middle of the station and waiting for your date. it wasn't as crowded as you thought it would be so you kept an eye out for taichi. he texted you just before you left, informing that he would be wearing a denim jeans and black jacket. keeping your eyes peeled for a person who fit that description, you see a shadow of a person jogging across the station and a voice calls out your name.

'y/n!!!!' you spot taichi running over to you, he crouches to try to catch his breath when he reaches you. when he's calmed down, he immediately apologizes, 'i am so sorry. have you been waiting long?' you assure him that it's fine and after a few minutes of back-and-forths of apologies and assurances, you two go on your way to your first stop: brunch.

taichi was indeed as handsome as his name initially suggests. he's got a boyish charm to him, and it would be a lie to say he wasn't drawing you in. all throughout the brunch, he proved to be someone who can keep a conversation with you. it was one of your worries that your date would find you boring, but osamu told you would do fine. thankfully, taichi could hold his ground with you, very much like your best friend who can immediately answer your witty quips with his own humorous comebacks. in your mind, the two boys were very much like and you couldn't wait to tell this to osamu.

after eating, he brought you to an aquarium. your genuine excitement made taichi smile as he shared that it was worth an effort asking hikari what you wanted if he could see you exude so much happiness. you made a face and hit him, 'i didn't know you were cheesy. thank you.' he then led you two inside and spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the huge aquarium, in awe of the different fishes and feeling if you were lost in the underwater.

but all good things come to an end. by the time your date ended, it was already 6:33 pm. though it was still early, you had a curfew of 8 pm and taichi offered to accompany you home.

dropping you off at the front gate, he looked at you, hopeful, 'i had a really fun time today. hikari did great by setting me and you up together.' you laughed at this, admitting you've almost forgotten that this was a blind date, 'it's like i've known you forever!' despite the surroundings being dark already, you didn't miss the movement of a shadow just a few blocks away. you had a hunch as to what or who it was, and you couldn't wait to expose them.

'well, i don't want to keep you out any longer,' taichi began saying his goodbye. 'i'll text you when i get home. we should do this again.' your attention was brought back to the boy in front of you and you chuckled, 'don't be a stranger! just text or call me anytime, okay?' taichi began walking back to the main street, and he waved as you shouted your last farewell, 'be careful on the way home.'

when he finally turned to the street, you cleared your throat and called, 'you can come out of your hiding spot now, dumbass.' the person you were referring to sheepishly moved where the light can cast over him, revealing, 'osamu.' he could see the way your eyes glinted with a hint of mischief and he knew he wouldn't be able to escape your interrogation.

you ran up to him and tackled him, poking his sides which made him fall into a fit of laughter. he took your hands to make you stop, 'stop that.'

'how long have you been hiding out there,' you ask osamu. it wasn't impossible to miss the tinge of blush on his cheeks, your question obviously caught him off guard. 'well, osamu? are you gonna answer me or are you just going to keep staring into space?' you wave your hands in front of him, but he quickly gets hold of them and laces his fingers with yours. it was a usual gesture between the two of you, but right now, why did it feel so intimate?

after moments of silence, he speaks up, 'did you have fun on your date?' his eyes boring right into your soul and you swore your heart started beating faster. for some reason, you couldn't answer right away, your voice somehow betraying you at that moment. 'it.. it was nice.'

osamu continued to stare intently, waiting for you to finish. so you went on, 'they're a good person. he's very funny, you'd like him too, you know! he surprised me by taking me to the aquarium,' at this point, you were rambling just to avoid the awkward silence. 'it was so big, osamu! you'd like it there too. and then -'

'will you take me there with you?' now your heart was threatening to beat out of the chest. osamu was rarely serious with you, and right now, you could feel that he wants to say more but he's restraining himself.

you already had an idea of what he was trying to say. the butterflies in your stomach was starting to go wild at the thought. but you wanted to hear it from your best friend himself, so you feigned ignorance, 'what do you mean, osamu?'

the grip on your hands tightens and he pulls you a little closer to him. osamu wants to say that he wishes it was him who saw your smile in the aquarium, who you talked with nonstop in the cafe, who you exchanged stories and laughter with throughout the day. he wants to say that it should have been him who took you out on your first date. all these emotions and words were too much for him, so he takes a deep breath and rests his head on your shoulders instead. perplexed at his actions, you immediately wrap your arms around his waist. 'osamu? are you okay?'

'yeah, let me just stay like this for few minutes.' he buries himself deeper in the crook of your neck, getting lost in your familiar, comforting scent. he knows why he was acting like this and he was screwed. he loves you, but he doesn't want to risk ruining the friendship you have built. after a while, he stands up straight, shooting you his signature smile and ruffles your hair.

'thanks, i was just really tired from the practice match. i guess i missed our number one cheerleader.' he steps away and begins to walk home, but he doesn't get too far when you shout, 'are you really gonna leave without asking me the question you've been dying to ask me?'

he stops in his tracks. this time, you close the distance and he feels your presence behind him. 'come on, osamu. no secrets, right?' at this, his resolve breaks and a dam opens, his unrequited feelings for you finally flowing out in the open. osamu turns around and engulfs you in a warm embrace, and you just know.

'if you wanted to ask me out, you could have just asked me you know,' you tease him. flustered at you what just said, he looks at quizzically, 'how...'

'you're not very subtle, osamu. and the stunt you just pulled tonight basically confirmed you like me too,' you hope he caught your words at the end. because honestly, while being best friends with him has been the best thing to happen in your life. you've always wondered what it feels like to take the next step in your relationship with him.

it takes him a while to register your remarks and when the realization sets, he finally asks, 'since when?' the question was vague, but you knew what he was referring to if the hopeful look in his eyes was anything to go by. so you take a courageous leap, finally crossing that bridge to move to something more. you caress his cheeks, osamu leaning close to the warmth of your hands, 'it's you, osamu. it's always been you.'

he finally closes the gap, bringing your body to his in a tight hug, as if he was afraid to let you go. you stay like that for a few minutes, the passersby cooing at the 'lovely couple' on the street. he pulls away for a quick second, then all of a sudden, he was leaning in. your eyes instinctively shut, waiting for that sensation on your lips, but instead you feel him press a tender kiss on your forehead. he was always a man of few words and through his actions, you know that everything will never be the same again, but it was the kind of change that you have always hoped for.

so when you two go to school the following week, holding hands and finally not bickering in the morning, everyone in your friend group was dumbfounded. again, his twin was the only one brave enough to point out the difference, 'took you guys long enough. congrats, osamu! i knew you had it in you!'

hikari wanted to ask you about taichi, but after the date, the boy has already his expressed gratitude and shared how he felt that your thoughts were occupied by someone. and certainly, looking at you and osamu now - sitting by each other's side in peace and in your own love bubble - it seemed that you have already found your perfect match.

[krnsluvvie]

look my way!

summary: you’re in love with one of your best friends, great. the fear of rejection and despair bring you to the very edge of cowardice and before you know it, you’ve lost him to someone who was a bit braver. 

pairing(s): iwaizumi hajime x reader, platonic matsukawa x reader, platonic oikawa x reader, platonic hanamaki x reader; Seijoh 3rd years besties w reader (basically a friendship fic with angst in the background lol)

genre: angst, fluff, crackheadassery

word count: 8.7k

warnings: unspoken feelings, reader is a coward, gratuitous amount of hugging for no apparent reason

a/n: GRRRRR i hope you’ll enjoy reading! 

( *L/N = last name, F/N = first name)

masterlist

───────────────────────────────────

The grand doors to the Aoba Johsai High School barely scrape your elbow as you run through the gap straight to your class, running late and soaked in the rain. 

Morning was pretty eventful to say the least - not only had you wrongly set the alarm (somehow changing AM to PM) and completely forgotten to do some revising, but you also had not checked the forecast beforehand to prepare yourself for the brutal attack of raindrops that came your way. Bothered? Perhaps, but you couldn’t afford a walk back home for the umbrella, for you’d be more late than you already are. 

As you set foot into your classroom, everyone turns their head towards you, all kinds of expressions visible on their faces — from astonishment to disgust - all of it and all in-between. 

You simply ignore their gazes as you take a seat behind the only person you’re relatively close to — Iwaizumi. You both share a friend circle: there’s Oikawa, Iwaizumi’s childhood friend whose annoyance pushes all of you onto the edge of a cliff, Matsukawa and Hanamaki whose jokes and presence make your life a little bit brighter. As much as you love all of them equally, there’s a different feeling when it comes to Iwaizumi. It was felt back then and it is felt now. And frankly said, you don’t really know where that leads you. 

You and Iwaizumi talk sometimes - although it revolves mostly around schoolwork (as you both have the exact same classes). But it’s enough for you. It always is. Your friends pointed that years ago - how you seem to ‘favor’ him. You smacked the back of their heads. 

“L/N,” Iwaizumi turns around to greet you, only to be met with a frown and wrinkles across your forehead… oh, yes, and the badly camouflaged dark circles that lay beneath your tired eyes. You’re standing there, messenger bag draped across your body, your hair wet and the droplets dripping all over the uniform jacket.  

Before neither you nor Iwaizumi could say anything, the teacher enters the classroom. You raise your hand almost immediately and excuse yourself to the restroom. He quirks up an eyebrow at you and upon noticing your horrendous state, he curtly nods. You were quite lucky to have him arrive a tad later than usual. 

Now that you’re standing in front of the mirror, you notice just how horrible and indecent you look. You subtly shake your head and wash your face under the running tap water, not caring if it would wash off the half-assed attempt at masking fatigue. It was snippets like this when you realized how grateful you are for the times your mom still had the urge to wake you up at exact hours repeatedly, every day; it became your habit. So, it was the hunch, the inkling that something wasn’t right when your alarm didn’t go off like it normally would. You jerked up so fast it could’ve given you whiplash. 

The universe seemed to hate you and you knew it. But somehow still, your luck has pushed forward and through, and instead of being soaked wet from top to bottom, you ended up with only the upper part of your body. The weather must’ve had mercy on you as well, as it started raining half-way on your way to school. 

You splash your face with water. Over and over, and over again. It won’t alleviate the heat when you think back to your luck. You might be lucky… but not in the ways you want to.

---

“I heard your morning was rough,” is the first thing Oikawa says to you as you enter the gym. Why you thought becoming a manager was a good idea is beyond you. You thought of quitting numerous of times but then there was this small voice in the back of your mind telling you to just ‘suck it up and enjoy it while you can’ (with the addition of ‘it’s the last year with your friends before you part ways’ that has been bothering you for some months now). You were holding on because you didn’t want to let go of them completely, not yet. It might’ve been only 3 years since you’ve gotten to know them, but the way they’ve grown on you is just baffling. Baffling, yet plausible. 

You set your mouth in a straight line and nod regardless. 

Oikawa’s teasing smile disappears from his face, “Did I say—”

You sharply inhale and shake your head. “It’s all good. If you need anything, just call me or something.” Oikawa catches your wrist before you can go any further and looks you deadly in the eyes. You hate this look so much because it’s a way of getting information out of you (in your case, it’s your love life that they love to interfere in for no apparent reason). “Is this about Iwa-chan again?” 

As if on cue, Matsukawa and Hanamaki appear by each of Oikawa’s side and look at you expectantly. Cool, what are you supposed to do now? Lie? “Of course not. I just really had a shitty morning. You even said it first.”

“Okay,” Oikawa hums. You notice how both Matsukawa and Hanamaki are staying eerily quiet. “And you were avoiding him for what reason, then?”

Of course you weren’t going to lie?! Because they would have called your bullshit out anyway. “I wasn’t avoiding him…” Oikawa sends you a glare and you subconsciously wince. 

“I just needed some time figuring stuff out, I think.”

Matsukawa puts a hand on your shoulder, “L/N, how long have you liked this guy?”

“Imagine liking Iwaizumi,” Hanamaki butts in. Oikawa fist bumps him and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Are those really the ones you’ll be spilling your guts to regarding your love life? Crazy shit. 

“Uh, um, since first year, I believe?” You might’ve told them that you had a crush on Iwaizumi but you never specified since when and how big of a crush it was. 

When those words rolled off your tongue, you knew that it barely was a crush anymore.

And it seems like the guys knew it, too - you could tell especially by their widened eyes. You check the time on your left wrist and leave no room for any of them to comment anything by yelling, “Practice starts in 10!” And so, you shake off the grasp Oikawa had on your wrist and get into the ‘indifferent L/N’ mode. 

You notice Iwaizumi making his way into the gym, changed into his sports clothes and you can’t help but feel the fluttering slowly increase in your stomach. Why is it so intense today? You accidentally lock eyes with him and you turn your gaze away so fast you would have snapped your neck.

---

Practice felt insufferably long. You noticed the team’s improvement as a whole, except —as much as you don’t like to admit it— Iwaizumi who seemed a little bit more aloof than usual. His spikes, though, were as powerful as ever, you noted. As you shouldered all the necessary bags and helped the team with cleaning the equipment, Iwaizumi tapped on your shoulder, sweat trickling down his temples. His cheeks were reddened from all the jumps and spikes. “Can we talk later? I’ll… wait for you.” You widened your eyes. Your mind was screaming at you to say No, or even some type of excuse - as long as you didn’t have to face him. Much to your dismay, “Yes,” was what you let out while walking forward to the exit to the secretary. You couldn’t afford looking at him directly, who knows what would happen then, had you had stolen a glance.

On your way back to the gym to retrieve your belongings, you met Oikawa, Matsukawa and Hanamaki by the exit. You sent them a glare and went past them. “You shouldn’t waste your time. Do it while you still can.” Oikawa said as he left. Matsukawa and Hanamaki sent you a sympathetic smile before following right after him. “You’re not waiting for Iwaizumi?”

“He said he was gonna talk to you!” The thought of strangling Oikawa felt just right at the moment.

So, this is it. 

Iwaizumi is looking anywhere but at you. Honestly said, if you hadn’t known better, you would’ve deemed him as the silent and shy type of guy who would shut his mouth rather than voice his own opinions. But, you do know him better and you know that’s exactly what he’s not and, you can’t help but feel envious at the thought - he was never the type to not call out any of you guys’ bullshit. 

So, it doesn’t surprise you when you hear him say, “L/N,” you sharply inhale. “Is there something wrong? Or, like, did I do something wrong?”

You draw your bottom lip between your teeth. You want to blame all the feelings on him; it’s his fault for being the way he is, his fault for acting the way he does, his fault for making you fall head over heels for him - a fact you never dared voicing out until recently. Ultimately, you shake your head and say, “What makes you say that?” 

Mental facepalm.

Iwaizumi laughs, you can’t really tell if he meant it or if it was done out of a sarcastic manner, “Hm, aside from avoiding me all the classes and glaring at the back of my head all day, I don’t think anything in particular happened.”

You let a small smile overtake your features. “Oh, well, I did have a shitty morning. But at the same time I don’t want to blame it all on it and I’m sorry it came out the way you perceived it, and-”

Iwaizumi catches you by your shoulders and looks you so tenderly in the eyes you feel like melting from it. You look away as he says, “L/N, you’re ranting.”

You steal a glance at him and notice how his hair is messy from practice and how his cheeks are still pink-dusted. You slowly feel the redness wash over your own cheeks and you ignore the warmth that leaves you when you push Iwaizumi away. “You dumbass, you didn’t do anything wrong, so it’s all good.”

Iwaizumi tilts his head to the side. You sure? You nod and make your way towards the school gates. “Iwaizumi,” you call out, “I glare at you every single day. I’m baffled you realized now!” He catches up to you and ruffles your hair.

“Oh, you’ll be regretting those words.” He slings an arm over your shoulder as you two walk the same path home. Your heart beats a little louder and you internally berate yourself for that. You keep reminding yourself that the boundary between you two must be visible. And even if you crossed a millimeter, you’d be sure to compensate for it - whether that took lunch break spent under the bleachers, or missed practice because you ‘felt sick’ that day.

You were a coward. You were such a coward.

---

Three months later, you’re found in the library with Matsukawa. He needed help with explaining some school stuff you understood and thus, how your study date was born. You prop your chin in the palm of your left hand, the other hand twirling with a pen you found in your pencil case. You look into the distance and your gaze lands on the huge bookshelves, and you wonder if you could find an interesting book to read.

“- do I use a comma here or not?” Matsukawa asks. You hurriedly turn to him, your face softening as you ask him to reiterate the question. You knew it was probably a bad idea to stay after school and help your friend - since you’ve been unfocused and grumpy the whole school day; this session would only add more fuel to the fire. But, then you thought back to all the times when he helped you and you felt bad for not doing anything in return. 

“Uh, let me see,” you say as you grab his textbook to go over the sentence he was struggling with. Matsukawa immediately retrieves the textbook from your hands and, with a puff, closes it. Not so softly.

“L/N,” Matsukawa sighs, you notice how his hands are folded atop the textbook. “Just why are you doing this to yourself?” His voice is soft despite what he’s said. “Mattsun, we’re not here for—”

Under the intense stare he gives you, you recoil and say, “I mean, he’s going out with someone already, no? Why would I ruin that now?”

Matsukawa massages his temples and looks you dead in the eyes, his hands clasping over yours. “L/N, you’re being ridiculous now. Just look at how miserable you are!” He fixes his gaze elsewhere, the grip he has on your hands tighten a bit and you sigh in relief. He’s telling you he’s here for you. “It hurts seeing you like this, you know? The guys might not show it but, they’re hurting as much as you are. But you know it’s not our thing to say nor even our business to interfere in.”

You grin, “Fancy of you saying this while interfering in my nonexistent love life.”

Matsukawa snickers and lets go of your hand. “It’s not that nonexistent.”

You’ve always known that out of all the guys, you were a tad closer to Matsukawa. How it came to that point, you don’t really know but even without having to say it out loud, you both knew you could trust each other. You give him a smile and a reassuring nod. You’re here for him, too.

Later that night, you receive a message from Iwaizumi. The temptation to ignore it was so strong yet, somehow, you find yourself clicking on his contact and read over the message. 

From: Iwa-shit (do not interact)

> L/N! emergency! what do I wear on a formal date, the first or the second one? respond asap pls

You regret… You regret clicking on the message because it hurts - knowing there’s someone who can potentially make him happy, someone that Iwaizumi will come home to, someone that can be his forever. Above all, though, what hurts the most is that you brought all this pain upon yourself.

You look at the attached pictures: in the first one, Iwaizumi’s wearing a basic black suit, with a white dress shirt underneath the blazer and dark pants that reach above his ankles. The second is more ‘daring’ - he’s sporting a blue jean jacket with a hoodie beneath it and black jeans. You snicker at it, is this really what he considers wearing to the aforementioned formal date?

To: Iwa-shit (do not interact)

< iwaaaaa ur not serious about the second one r u?

From: Iwa-shit (do not interact)

> Lmao who do you take me for? Ofc not!

 To: Iwa-shit (do not interact)

<  what was the reason then ?!?!!

 From: Iwa-shit (do not interact)

> Bored and wanted to talk to you.

Before you could respond, though, another notification pops up on your phone, signaling someone’s messaged you, or more like, the group chat.

From: Oikawa [Seijoh’s mightiest third years]

> lmaoooo yall heard? iwa-channn is going to a wedding. now place ur bets on how long it will take him to fuck sumn up

 From: Makki [Seijoh’s mightiest third years]

> five dollars for less than an hour

 From: Mattsun [Seijoh’s mightiest third years]

> Stfu (read: 5 bucks for less than two hours we gotta have faith in him cmon)

 From: Iwaizumi [Seijoh’s mightiest third years]

> Just why.

Oh, this is the formal date? They must’ve gotten real close if Iwaizumi will be his date’s date.

You click on the chat with Iwaizumi.

From: Iwa-shit (do not interact)

> And the guys, I guess.

Another message incoming.

From: Iwa-shit (do not interact)

> Lol, don’t you just love jinxing yourself?

You send him laughing emojis. You two end up texting for some more minutes before that turns into a call and just hearing him talk about something that makes him happy is enough for you. You notice that whenever it comes to Iwaizumi, everything suddenly seems sufficient. 

You both end up talking about miscellaneous things - one of them being his date. He tells you about how he met her (through Oikawa as the date attends the same class) and what exactly led to the point where they were now. You knew he was seeing someone but hearing it directly from him made you want to rip your hair off and yell slurs at yourself, and cry into your duvets and —

And what? You need to face the reality - you’re too late now.

“L/N?” Iwaizumi asks through the phone, his voice sounding weary and tinny. You rub your eyes and yawn. “Iwaizumi, we should go to sleep. I wouldn’t want to run late to tomorrow’s date!” You try to sound as cheerful as possible. Your voice cracked at the last bit but it seems that Iwaizumi brushed it off as drowsiness. “Right. Well, thanks for talking to me, dumbass.”

“Who are you calling a dumbass? Look at you, thanking your friend for talking to you. That’s ridiculous.” 

“Look at the ungodly time, dumbass.” You do, the clock reads 2:32AM. 

“Shut up, just sleep.” And you hang up. 

You notice another message.

From: Iwa-shit (do not interact)

> I meant it, L/N. Thanks

You smirk.

To: [Seijoh’s mightiest third years]

<  five dollars it will take less than thirty minutes

 From: Oikawa [Seijoh’s mightiest third years]

> GASP game on b

A day after the date, you all gather at your and Iwaizumi’s joined desks. “So,” Oikawa starts, scrolling on his phone through the numerous posts. “Little birdie posted something and tagged Iwa-chan in it! Let’s see!”

Oikawa places the phone in the middle for everyone to see and clicks on her latest post.

The caption reads: ‘Ladies and gentlemen, it took him 28 minutes to bang his head into the stand!’  Oikawa scrolls through the pictures where the said stand was not as straight as it should be. More pictures show him standing next to his date, his smile vibrant and eyes twinkling with happiness. You notice how Iwaizumi’s smile grows bigger each time Oikawa swipes to the left. It is a sequence where he and his date look at each other with so much adoration you have to bite the inside of your cheek to not break down right then and there.

“I can’t believe you dragged my girlfriend into this.” Oikawa visibly gasps, quickly stealing a glance at you and you dare say you caught the slight look of pity in the pools of his eyes. You look away. Even Hanamaki —who enjoys teasing the hell out of you— sends you a look of indescribable mix of emotions and you just brush it off by rolling your eyes at him. You can’t lie that the tears pricking your eyes aren’t present because oh, well, they are. 

“Congratulations!” You find yourself saying a tad louder than you intended to. The three of them look at you with widened eyes, quizzical looks on their faces. You lock eyes with Matsukawa and you nod, silently telling him that you know, you know, you know. 

The ambience in the classroom gets a little bit more suffocating. “If you’ll excuse me,” you say as you make your way towards the restrooms. Why can’t you just be happy for him? Why do you hold on to something so… trivial? Do you want to lose what you already have? You repeatedly splash water over your face. 

I’m a mess, you whisper to yourself as you notice the puffy red eyes and run your hands along your cheekbones. You’re ready to curse the universe for treating you like shit because as much as you are aware of the situation, you don’t deserve to feel this way.

However, despite all of this, you know that in the end, you have no one but yourself to blame.

---

Seconds, hours, days, weeks go by and graduation seems closer than ever. Naturally, all of you have become more busy with preparing for the exams. As much as you hate to admit it, you miss them. 

It felt good the first few days; you had them off your back and you didn’t have to deal with their bullshit you’ve grown accustomed to (for some reason, and very much to your dismay). But recently, you’ve been feeling empty and you haven’t been talking that much - though, not that you minded. Typically, you four would spend the sunny afternoons in your backyard, black-tinted sunglasses protecting your eyes from the scorching hot sun. You would stuff yourselves with too much ice cream, jelly sticks of all flavors and too many yogurt drinks that had no right tasting so good. 

Once inside the house, Oikawa would lie on the table, fanning himself with the poor excuse of a textbook, Hanamaki and Matsukawa would solve like one and a half math problems and then rest on the table, too, cheeks pressed against the cold surface. Iwaizumi would prepare snacks and you’d help him with that. 

You’d notice the way he talks so mindlessly when it came to the things he liked: it being volleyball or Agedashi Tofu. You’d play some music in the background as the two of you would work on preparing the snacks. You’d feel just how dangerously close you two are when he leans over your body to retrieve a cup from the shelf. You’d be hyper aware of everything and that was one of the things you loved and hated simultaneously.

So it was quite a surprise to get a call in the middle of your study session. 

You slide to the right with your thumb, accepting the call. “L/N! My favourite person!”

“Cut the bullshit, Oinks. You need something?” You press the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you decide to cut up some fruit. “Actually, I don’t need anything.” You frown, then why did he call you? To waste your precious time? “I just wanted to let you know that the guys will be picking you up in,” a momentary pause, “like five minutes because we’ve missed you and you deserve a break from studying.”

You nearly yell at him but instead, you say, “I hate you.”

“Aw, I can feel the love!” You roll your eyes. Then comes silence. The sweet, bitter, hung-up-in-the-air silence that circles around you in vexing motions, driving you crazy.

“Look, about Iwaizumi’s relationship-”

You gasp, “Iwaizumi.” You mockingly repeat. Oikawa sighs on the other line. Right, no time for jokes. “L/N, his girlfriend makes him really happy. I honestly don’t know why I’m telling you this,” you don’t know either, “but I know you’re a good person and you wouldn’t want to ruin that. And, I know you hate people who pity you but I still feel the need to apologize-”

“You’re so embarrassing, I can’t believe you. Why should you apologize for something that was not even your fault?”

“Hm, kinda like a best friend’s duty, I dare say.” You laugh - this one’s legitimately genuine. “You can be, uh, bearable sometimes.” Oikawa guffaws so loudly you have to put your phone away from you to not get an ear-rape. “I’ll use that against you, ugly.”

“Just say you love me and go,” You jokingly say, not expecting the latter to say the words. 

“Now, say it back,” he whines. All you let out, though, is an incomprehensible screech and a ‘See you there!’, and end the call. 

Subconsciously, you might just have said them.

The doorbell resounds throughout the whole house and you run to the front door, peeping through the hole to see who decided to pay you a visit. You see Hanamaki and Matsukawa waving at you.  

You open the door, the wind sending a refreshing swoosh to your hair and you smile upon seeing the two boys before you. “You look kinda scary when you smile,” Matsukawa says as you threaten to hit him with your palm outstretched. Hanamaki doesn’t seem unfazed by your antics as he asks,“Oikawa probably called you, no?”  

You nod and get out of the doorway so that they can enter the house. “As usual, make yourself at home and you can steal some cut fruit in the kitchen.” 

Five minutes later, you descend the stairs in your jogging pants and short-sleeved shirt. They didn’t tell you where you were going so you went with something casual yet comfortable.

Putting on your shoes, you lock the front door and catch up to the two that went ahead. You notice how both of them are wearing casual clothes as well - but unlike someone, they had the formality to at least wear jeans. You’re walking by Hanamaki’s left side, flanking him with Matsukawa on the other. “So, where are you two dragging me?”

Hanamaki turns to you and with a saccharinely sweet smile and elbows you lightly in the ribs. “It’s a secret~” You return the gesture with a little more strength than you wanted - hence, Hanamaki unintentionally pushing into Matsukawa’s side, nearly flying him into the fence of someone’s house if he hadn’t braced himself for the impact. 

“Wow, L/N, if you’re mad, just tell us, damn,” Hanamaki rubs his ribs, dramatically hissing in pain. You roll your eyes but apologize regardless. “You good, Mattsun?” He nods at your question and you send him a contrite look of sorts. 

“Is it just me or have you gotten a bit more aggressive?” Hanamaki nudges into your shoulder and you send him a questioning look - brows furrowed and a bottom lip tucked between your teeth. “Huh?”

Hanamaki sighs, “I don’t know, ever since Iwaizumi announced his relationship or whatever, you’ve been tense around him… avoiding him, too.Us, too… kinda.”

You look into the distance, noticing a building that you know all too well, “You know, Makki, you seem to notice a lot of things despite your unattentive nature.”

“I am,” Hanamaki inhales theatrically, “offended.”

 “As you should be, honestly.” Matsukawa elbows him in the ribs. Hanamaki turns to him, “Just because L/N hurt my ribs from the left side doesn’t mean the right side needs to be damaged, too!”

“You spend too much time with Oikawa,” You tsk, letting out an airy laugh. 

“Don’t tell me we’re gonna have to sit through Oikawa’s karaoke session again,” You slap your forehead. You knew that the two boys you are currently with didn’t propose this idea - if anything, they must’ve been forced into this… as would be you and Iwaizumi. Of course. It’s a tradition after all.

“Yep,” Matsukawa shrugs. “But look on the bright side, you can yell whatever to appease your anger you’ve been bottling up.” You glare at him and he raises both of his hands up in mock-surrender.

Hanamaki catches your wrist and motions Matsukawa to enter the building first. He complies. “Listen, we just want the squad back on its good terms, so we’ll hope you’ll talk it out today.” You slowly nod, ready to take off to the building behind Matsukawa. “One more thing,” Hanamaki loosens the grip on your wrist. “Remember that Iwaizumi was a friend first before he was your first love.”

You stiffen. Were those the words you’d always needed to hear but they’d never occurred to you? Iwaizumi was a friend first before he was your first love. 

Something clicks. 

How could you have been so selfish; wallow in your self-pity, run in circles because all you could do was to remind yourself that this was your fault, your reality now? How could you have been so reckless, risking years of friendship on the line?

“You coming?” Hanamaki yells, palms cupped around his mouth. You nod, slowly reaching the building. 

---

Five karaoke sessions (and a very enthusiastic Oikawa-singing) later, you plump down on the couch, wiping the perspiration off your forehead. It’s tiring - watching Oikawa giving his all to convey the right feelings into the song. You must admit, he sure is passionate; it’s almost as if you were watching him play volleyball - except with a mic in his hand instead that he wouldn’t throw around… hopefully. 

As the song nears its end, you all let out a breath of relief, a mix of annoyance, boredom, and tiredness hanging in the stuffy air. You let yourself sink further into the sofa, hoping it could swallow you whole and erase your existence. 

Okay, maybe you should tone down being so pessimistic.

“How was I?” Oikawa asks, eyes sparkling. His hair is unkempt from all the unnecessary movements he made during the climax of the song and his cheeks are painted a rosy hue - you note even with the flashing lights casting every color across his face. 

You smirk, “Not bad.” 

Oikawa frowns at your response, tightening his grip on the mic. “What do you mean ‘not bad’? After everything I’ve done for you? I see how it is, you’re gonna hear me sing again—”

You steal a glance at Iwaizumi. You notice how he’s staring at the door, probably wishing he were anywhere else but here. Hanamaki comes into your line of sight and you motion him to do anything to catch Iwaizumi’s attention, thus Hanamaki getting buried alive as he slaps the back of Iwaizumi’s head. He glowers at Hanamaki, already rolling up his sleeves.

Hanamaki points in your direction and you catch Iwaizumi’s green eyes that glisten a little bit brighter in the excessively flashing-lit room. With your thumb, you point to the exit and he nods, a look of relief washes over his features.

Once outside the suffocating room, you inhale the fresh air. Summer is just around the corner and even though it was your favourite season, you can’t help but indulge yourself in the chilliness before it changes its course for the next three months.

“Uh, good day, yeah?” Iwaizumi shoves his hands into his jeans’ front pockets, admiring the gravelly ground. He’s put some distance between you two.

“Sure, if being forced into this activity with Oikawa is a good thing.” 

Iwaizumi chuckles, “It’s our thing, L/N, and you know it.” You nod and purse your lips in a straight line because well, he made it awkward for no reason. Or was it you for saying something so obvious?

“How are the exam preparations coming along? Dream college or something like that?” You fiddle with the hem of your shirt, looking past Iwaizumi’s shoulder at passersby.

“Could be better but so far no mental breakdowns.” You can hear the sarcasm laced in his voice as he speaks. “Was thinking about sports science ‘cause you know, it hurts me to watch athletes injure themselves.”

“Hajime, you’re a good person.” The words tumble out of your lips before you can stop yourself; it felt too unnatural to not say it. Iwaizumi barks a laugh. “You, too, F/N.”

You grin, “Obviously.” If you truly meant it or not, you didn’t know.

Comfortable ambience surrounds you both as you let the wind carry out the unsaid words. 

You were never a person of many words - you’ve alway been a little too blunt, a little too hotheaded, a little too selfish. Although in most of the cases you were not aware, it was about damn time you got your head out of your ass and looked around yourself.

“I’m sorry.” You mutter, hoping it would cover all the damage you caused (and fully knowing that would not be the case).

Iwaizumi looks up, eyes searching yours. He quirks his eyebrow in a silent question. 

You reconsider your words. “I’m sorry for not spending that much time with you. I know we’re not bound to each other or anything but I just felt like… maybe it was better for the both of us? I mean, we’re graduating in less than two months and … yeah.”

“Oh, so that’s why. I thought you were avoiding me,” he scratches the back of his neck, tilting his head. “You also haven’t been showing up to practice anymore so I thought…”

Right. Of course.

“Well, I managed to lure this first year into taking over my duties for the time being that I figure my shit out, you know?” 

Iwaizumi mock-gasps you. “You’re so irresponsible.” You roll your eyes as some sort of retort.

“Come here.”

You look up in horror; his arms are outstretched and there’s an evil smile strewn across his face. “What do you want to do, Iwaizumi.”

“Dumbass, just give me a hug,” he says as he steps forward and catches you off-guard by encircling his muscular arms around your shoulders, squashing your face in the crook of his neck. He pats your back in a steady rhythm, your arms unmoving by your sides. “Come to practice and let that first-year breathe, will you?”

You let a small smile snake its way onto your face. “After all, this is what you say?”

“Priorities,” he hums, holding you still in his embrace. You groan in pseudo-annoyance as you lightly punch his stomach to get him away from you, only to no avail. “Cute of you to even try, now hug your friend back or I’m not letting you go.”

You sigh, “Everyone sounds like Oikawa, just how much extra time have you all been spending together?”

“Maybe if you had tagged along, you would have sounded just like us, too.”

“Is that really a win?” You say as your arms weakly encircle his waist, ghosting over it. “Now, let me go, you sap.” 

Iwaizumi infinitesimally tightens his grip around your shoulders. “I would never.”

You flutter your eyes close against his shirt, your forehead pressed against his shoulder. You notice it was quite similar to something you had with Matsukawa - some kind of reassurance that they were here for you no matter what. Whether Iwaizumi meant it in that sense or not, you let yourself drop your build-up guard as you snuggle deeper into the comfort of his embrace and mutter a ‘thank you’ you hope he caught.

---

“Hajime!” You look up, your hand with the pen halting on the clipboard sitting on your forearm. 

The person in question runs up to the girl and hooks her hands around his neck as he twirls her around in front of his teammates that look surprisingly apathetic.

“She keeps coming to his practice, why does he act like it’s always the first time?” You hear Kunimi mutter by your right and you send him an eyebrow raise to which he responds with a scowl. You wince. Kids these days.

Kindaichi bows and apologizes on Kunimi’s behalf. You wave him off with a half-smile and ruffle his hair, saying how great his blocks were. 

“I will do my best!” He says as he dashes off onto the court, meeting up with the rest of the teammates. You catch Oikawa’s concentrated face as he gives the second years some advice on spiking. You smile fondly to yourself; there truly was not a better captain; leader. 

“L/N-san,” the first-year tugs at your jacket, you nod in acknowledgment, prodding her on. “I’ll have to go now, so if you'll excuse me.”

“Of course! Thank you so much for helping me! Have a great day!” The first-year bows and leaves the gym with a wave. You reciprocate it with an added smile.

The girl from earlier approaches you in light-weight steps, her uniform neatly ironed, you noted. She has her hair in a high ponytail and you notice how stunning she is. “These guys can be really mean on the court, no?”

It takes you embarrassingly long enough to understand that she’s talking to you. “Oh… uh, yeah. They can get aggressive.”

“How long have you been a manager?” She suddenly asks, eyes sparkling with interest.

“Ever since I became a first-year, so three years now.” You answer, noticing how she’s clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “I can’t even imagine how bad must it be for your mental health to deal with these brats.”

Oh. “Hm, if you’re used to hearing their bullshit everyday, I’m sure you’d be just fine.” She laughs genuinely. You subconsciously tighten your hold on the clipboard. 

“Maybe,” she mutters, her gaze landing on Iwaizumi who spikes the ball set to him specifically by Oikawa onto the opponent’s court, adding a point to his team. 

“Honestly I admire you for that.” You stay still because… what else is there to do? “As much as I’ve always wanted to be one, I don’t think I’d be good at it, and it’s too late for me, anyway.” She dry-laughs, the sadness clearly woven into her voice. 

“I can show you some things if you want. It’s mostly paperwork but there’s also—” (the habit of talking before thinking was getting out of hands now)

She eagerly nods as you hand her your clipboard you’ve been writing into the whole time. The coach sends you a questioning look but you wave him off, mouthing ‘okay’, ‘no problem’ and everything in between.

As you two work in silence - you showing her the basics and the fundamentals, and her nodding everything off and asking questions (which reminds you of the first-year that you were lucky to find because, let’s be real, who would be so excited over taking the responsibilities?), you both don’t notice Iwaizumi watching you two interact, thinking how two of his favorite people are conversing.

And that’s how he gets zonked. In the head. By Oikawa. 

Before you could run off to check up on Iwaizumi, she catches your wrist. “He’ll be okay in no time.”

You let your jaw drop. “W-what…”

“Just look at him, this happens all the time, don’t worry.”

“But it’s my responsibility—”

“Look out, L/N!!!” You turn towards the voice, for the first time in your life catching the ball... with your face. And as you hit the ground, blackness is the only thing that surrounds you.

Your head is spinning, the pain pounding against your skull. You’re lying on a bed, the headrest slightly raised. You bring a hand up to your face, feeling just how much it is swollen beneath your fingertips. “You’ll be okay,” the nurse says, cleaning up the supplies. “It’ll take some time healing; you got a pretty severe hit.”

“Yeah,” you let out, defeated. “What about Iwaizumi?” 

“Ah, yeah, he’s just left. He’s okay, if that’s what you’re wondering.” You let out a sigh of relief. Just what the hell happened? You throw a forearm over your forehead and flutter your eyes close, indulging in the way the mattress beneath your body feels nice. Before you know it, you slip into the dreamland.

;

The practices have been less and less rigorous, considering the fact that the third years prioritized their decent marks rather than ‘some hobby’ (“L/N! How could you say that!” Oikawa whined on one fine day, tugging at your sleeve. Iwaizumi sent you a glare that day.). After all, they could’ve retired after losing to Karasuno but Oikawa was rigid, and someone had to lead the team for the little time that they had left.

You also have been seeing Iwaizumi’s girlfriend come to his practices, cheering him on or completely shattering his ego. They fit one another really well; she was there to ground him if he got too aggressive. Their natures seemed to clash in the right way. You swallow the bile rising up your throat.

No.

“L/N!” You turn to the voice, noticing it was her. You wave at her. This has become some kind of routine you both fell into, with the rest of the team as well. “How’s school?” She asks out of the blue and you weigh out the options: to answer or to digress. Why would she start a small talk, considering you two aren’t relatively that close yet? 

You ignore the nonsensical thoughts your mind loves conjuring up.

“Good.”

She nods, averting her gaze as she bits on her bottom lip. You two watch the game before you.

(Eventually, these little small talks turn into full-on hangouts on Fridays with the guys tagging along. And maybe, maybe your assumptions were wrong, after all.)

━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I can’t believe we’ve made it.” You sniffle into your sleeve as you hold tightly onto the tube with the graduation certificate in it. The school gymnasium is teeming with sweaty bodies of graduates, holding onto their own tubes. Everyone’s chattering so loud it makes your head turn. 

Oikawa nudges your shoulder and with a blinding smile says, “We really did, L/N-san.”

You grin and turn your body to him, catching him off-guard as you hug his middle, fake-sniffling into his uniform. “Don’t pry my hands off, this is my love language.” Oikawa gasps but you can feel him lean into the embrace, resting his chin on your shoulder. 

“Hey,” you lift your shoulder he’s resting his chin on. He hums in acknowledgement. “You did really well, Oikawa-san. I respect you so much, Oikawa-san. You have worked very hard-”

Oikawa jerks away from your warmth, holding you by your shoulders at an arm’s length. “You mean this, L/N-san?” He challenges you.

You flick his forehead. “Obviously not. Except the last part.”

Oikawa gets into a ranting mode as you look around the gymnasium, spotting numerous familiar faces. You send them a smile and a wave. On the other side of the gym, you spot Iwaizumi with his girlfriend by his side. Their arms are locked as they converse with Matsukawa and Hanamaki. 

You notice the way Iwaizumi snakes an arm around her waist, probably trying to keep her as close as possible. Ah yeah, of course. Iwaizumi has always been a little too overprotective when it came to the people he cared for. You smile upon the fact; he was a bit too good for this world, although it might not seem so to strangers. But that was the beauty of it all, how only you — among the others he cared for—  could see his true colors.

“L/N?” You look up. “Are you sure you’re fine? I mean it makes me really sad just seeing you so… sullen.” The tears are pricking your eyes. Why is Oikawa being like this?

“Tooru, I hate you so much.” You grab onto his jacket as he instinctually grabs a hold of your shoulders, slamming you against his chest. “Why are you like this.”

He tsks, “No, why are you like this?”

You let yourself indulge in the warmth and comfort of his embrace, tuning the world out for a second. “Thank you for the years. I mean it.” 

“Now, now, why are you such a sap? Look,” he points behind you, “Mattsun and Makki are here!”

You scramble away from his hold, patting at your uniform as you pretend everything prior to this was just a hallucination, an illusion. “You two, can you believe this? L/N is so emotional it makes me cry, too.”

You grumble in embarrassment. “Let me be. I do have the right to be emotional. How are you not crying? You won’t get to see me anymore.”

Hanamaki joins the conversation. “I think that’s why none of us are crying.” Oikawa barks a laugh as he steadies himself on Hanamaki’s shoulder. You turn to Matsukawa, expecting some sort of back-up. “I mean, he didn’t lie…”

You pout. “Betrayal.”

“I knew you always had a favorite!” Hanamaki exclaims with his arms crossed over his chest. Oikawa stops laughing, already rolling his sleeves up, albeit unsuccessfully. “Unbelievable. I thought we didn’t play favorites?”

“We don’t!” You exclaim with as much rage. 

Matsukawa steps into your personal space as he engulfs you in a bear hug, carding his fingers through your hair. “What are you doing?”

“You don’t have to lie to them,” Matsukawa says as he too-sweetly smiles at the remaining boys. 

“Scandalous,” Oikawa says, hands already clenched in fists by his side. Hanamaki catches him by his middle. “Losers.” 

You snake your hands into the inside of Matsukawa’s jacket and tickle him. “Ow,” He jerks away from you and sends you a glare. You only smile in return. 

“You know,” Hanamaki starts, “you have never given me a hug.”

You widen your eyes because first of all, he’s absolutely right and second of all, why did he have the need to say it out loud and so… straightforwardly? Does he have no shame? You also hate the fact that your brain tends to short-circuit every time someone’s being too explicit and your body reacts a tad faster before you can realize it - naturally, your cheeks redden and you bring the tube to your cheeks to soothe the redness that is not going away. “Takahiro, shut!”

He shrugs. “For real, Oikawa hugs you like, all the time. Matsukawa does, too, which is surprising,” Matsukawa yells ‘Hey, I can be nice!’ , “and god, don’t get me started on Iwaizumi.

It’s as if Oikawa was made for this. His ears perk up at the mention of his childhood friend as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. “What?” You roll your eyes, wishing for some silence, freedom, ‘get me out of here’s.

“You were saying, huh?” Oikawa leans into Hanamaki, their shoulders bumping. “Get off me, you creep.” 

Oikawa has this whole ‘lost-puppy-in-the-streets’ look going on and you almost give in to the temptation to comfort him. But bruh, nah, he’s a big boy. “Anyway back to our Iwaizumi!

“We all know he’s not affectionate, right, he’d punch us in the guts and say something like, I don’t hate y’all. But!” You flinch upon the raised voice. “When it comes to our not-that best and not-that impressive and stupid and dumb—” 

“We get it!” You say, looking awfully bothered by it (not that it actually bothered you, haha, nope).

“He’s kinda soft. It’s totally different with his girlfriend but yeah.” 

The rest of you eye each other. This was so not happening. “Did you just analyze this whole meaningless shit,” Matsukawa deadpans. 

“Had to justify my lack of L/N Hugs.”

You slap your forehead. “Hanamaki, what the fuck even--” In that exact moment, you’re thrown in Hanamaki’s way, his arms instinctually wrapping themselves around your shoulders as you try stopping the momentum that could possibly make you both fall onto the hard, stepped-on by not-clean shoes and totally not-dusty ground. 

“Is this a new way of hugging or something?” A voice asks from behind you and Hanamaki in each other’s awkward embrace. There stands Iwaizumi with his girlfriend by his side, an  ever-so-wide smile strewn across their faces. “At least I got my hug.” Hanamaki unwraps his arms around you, completely disregarding you as he drops you to the ground. 

“I feel so used.” You wipe at your metaphorical tear in the corner of your eye. As you’re about to hoist yourself up, a hand appears before you. 

Without any second thoughts, you take it and with the person’s help, you lift yourself up from the ground. “Thanks, ‘Zumi.”

“Hm, you never gave me a nickname.” It sounds like he’s pondering over the words except he just accidentally said them out loud. You notice your friend group a feet away, chattering animatedly with other classmates, Iwaizumi’s girlfriend somewhere in the far corner chatting with her girl friends. Great, you two, just what you wanted. 

You swear to god that you caught the three close friends of yours sending you unsubtle glances, making gestures, clowning, whatever. You shake your head.

“Something on your mind, L/N?” You divert your gaze to the ground. After all this time, why does your heart skip a beat faster whenever you’re the only ones around? 

“I,” you start, fiddling with your fingers, the tube safely tucked under your arm. “I never got the chance to properly thank you for the years.”

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow. A second, two, three pass by. He’s waiting. “Uh,” you straighten your back and hold the tube with both of your hands to stop them from shaking so damn much. At this point they could become engines with which you could drive around the neighborhood. “I told the guys already,” you point at them with your thumb, “so don’t feel special or anything.”

He smiles and that encourages you to keep going. “Well, I don’t think you know but I’m like, the biggest fan of you.” He sends you a knowing look. Oh, so you’re a fan of him?

“Of you all. And I might not have shown it as much but it’s the truth. I can’t even imagine how hard you all must’ve worked to get where you are. Your strategies, your excellent thinking, your intelligence, your view on things - it’s all so impressive to me and I wanna let you know that whatever you’ll choose in the end, just know this high school time was crucial to your growth.” 

Silence. Did you say something wrong? Maybe it’s taking him some time to absorb, digest the whole word vomit you just let out. What’s filtering anyway.

“L/N, you know,” Iwaizumi averts his eyes to the high ceiling, the sunlight smiling down on you two. “I don’t think you should be saying this to me.”

You shake your head. “I promise I’ve already told him and I’ll let him know later again, but now, this,” you gesture to the air between the two of you, “is about you so stop selling yourself short. I thought you were over this.”

Iwaizumi quirks his lips up in a half-smile, eyes sparkling with an emotion you could actually tell - gratefulness. “See, I didn’t lie when I said you were a good person.” 

You shoot him one of your best smiles, “Could say the same about you, sir.”

“Hey, you two! You going?” Oikawa yells from the other side of the room, pointing at both of you. He’s nearing the exit with the rest of the third years, still facing you. You give him a thumbs up and the last thing you see is the undoubted significant smile that had no ulterior motives. “So, we going?” Iwaizumi points to the exit, the hall slowly but surely emptying each passing minute. 

“You go ahead, I still have something left to do.” Iwaizumi looks suspicious but after relentless bickering, he gave up and said he’d be waiting outside, somewhere near the school, you’ll find him eventually.

As you’re left alone in the emptied gym, you cannot help but think of the times when you first got to know the guys that you now call your best friends. 

Awkward, embarrassed, clueless.

You were reluctant to join, for: firstly, what did you know about volleyball? Secondly, you were really not looking for any friends, so how come it ended up the way you didn’t plan to, yet you were never more grateful? What would’ve happened had you not decided to join the volley club as a manager?

You’d like to believe you were in-one-way-or-another lucky. You never questioned your luck, never questioned your fate. You believed in the universe - although you knew it had a very obvious, blatant dislike to you. Ignoring all of that, you went with the flow.

People come and go. Friends come and go. You are aware.

These lingering feelings? It hurts.

It hurts but that’s only because you were never brave enough to let them out. This was a choice you could’ve chosen. You didn’t have to wait for a miracle to appear in front of you and make you say all the words you’d always felt too scared to say.

Hadn’t it been for Oikawa, Matsukawa and Hanamaki, would you have been able to even fall in love with Iwaizumi in the first place?

Right, you did attend the same class but would the bond have been as strong as it is now?

No matter what, Iwaizumi was a friend first and although it hurts, you need to move on. One way or another.

“C’mon, L/N! We won’t get to any food if we dilly-dally any longer!” Iwaizumi shouts to you from the other side and you bite your lip to prevent the megawatt smile from spreading across your face.

It hurts.

It hurts so much, but the least you can do is to cherish him in the ways you can.

Cherish him as a friend.

[bookstantrash]

A/N: Just saw that I hit 200 followers! I didn’t expect that even in my wildest dreams, so thank you so much for those of you who follow me, like/retweet my posts!! 🥰

Thanks aside, enjoy this chapter! I ended up not making it as angst as I intended it to be, so lucky you!

In which she makes a friend, Part Eight

Cassian’s headache was going to kill him.

The past week had been exhausting. Azriel had left only a day ago, leaving Cassian with more work and more troubled thoughts regarding the advance of the rebels.

At least now he had something to occupy his time during his sleepless nights, preferring to work instead of simply staring at his bedroom’s wall until the first rays of sunrise appeared.

Cassian was also worried about Kaelin. The young Illyrian had dismissed Nesta’s worried look, simply stating that his hair had been bothering him and that a few bruises were common. He had only been unfortunate enough to receive most of the blows on his face.

Both Cassian and Azriel had confirmed Kaelin’s words, but he had caught Nesta whispering with the young Illyrian when they thought nobody was looking, and Cassian was starting to get worried that Kaelin was hiding something.

Nesta also occupied his thoughts. Now more than ever.

Although she had actually sided with Azriel, both messing with him non stop — Azriel’s dark humour having surprisingly matched perfectly with Nesta’s ironic one — Cassian would see how she sometimes appeared to be lost in thought, becoming a little quieter once in a while, no doubt with her mind busy with Kaelin.

Cassian had to discover what was happening. He had to make sure that Nesta’s rare and easy smiles — even the way her stormy blue eyes softened more than less nowadays — would not disappear. She deserved all the happiness in the world. As did Kaelin.

But first, he had to rid himself of the nasty headache that had been bothering him all day.

“Now I know why Azriel rubs his temple so often” Cassian thought as he made his way for the healers tents, rubbing his own temple in a vain attempt to ease the pounding inside his head.

As he walked further into the tent, the smell of different herbs assaulted him, and Cassian took a deep breath, an expecting scent he could not name laying a blanket of calmness over him, easing his pain.

“Somebody give me some salt! An evil spirit has arrived!” Cassian heard a familiar grumpy voice shout.

“I missed you too Esmée” he said, stopping near the table where the matron of the healers appeared to be making a complicate looking potion.

“Bah, missed me! You missed coming here and charming my healers to give you extra bandages to wrap your fists, that’s what happened” Esmée replied, snorting.

“You usually need to wrap your hands or else they’ll get hurt even more. Am I wrong ladies?” Cassian playfully said, winking at one of the healers, who blushed.

“Hurt hands!! As if!” Esmée indignantly exclaimed “You are one vain warrior who does it for the aesthetics in four out of five cases!”

“And stop flirting with my healers! You’re distracting them!” she added, hitting him on the head with the small wooden stick she used to grind the herbs.

Cassian gave a surprised yelp, earning giggles from the healers.

“Great, now I’ll have a pump in the morning along with a headache” he thought, massaging his head.

“Esmée” Cassian charmingly tried, giving the old female his best puppy eyes “Uyara of the healers”

“Flattery will not get you anywhere kunumim” she huffed, but Cassian could see her eyes shining with secret delight.

Uyara meant Lady, owner and even dominant in the Illyrian tong. And Cassian may use flattery, but he was no liar while doing it. Esmée was the best healer the Illyrians had. She knew secrets long lost, passed only from matron to matron of camp. And her abilities were just as legendary. She truly was the Lady of the Healers.

“This time I did not come here to ask for bandages” Cassian said “I was wondering if you had any herbs for headaches. Mine is killing me”

Esmée surprised Cassian by raising her hands and cupping his cheeks, bringing his face down so she could inspect it.

“You have dark shadows under your eyes. Your eyes are tired, and you are a little anaemic” the old healer’s voice got unusually soft, maternal concern lacing it “You work too much. Have you been having trouble sleeping kunumim?”

Cassian felt his chest tighten a bit at Esmée’s words.

It had been a long time since someone had noticed how tired he felt beneath his happy facade. Since someone had cared to stop and really look at him.

Cassian loved his family. But even around them he felt the need to keep up the appearances.

He had to be the funny one. The one always there to make sure everyone was happy and comfortable.

Cassian sometimes wanted to scream. Wanted to cry and complain.

Wanted someone to hug him and let him slip his mask off.

Wanted someone who loved him enough to hear his troubles.

But Cassian could not afford to be selfish right now.

He had a camp to take care of.

“I’m fine Uyara” smiling weakly, Cassian gently took her hands off his face, squeezing them in reassurance.

Esmée clicked her tong in annoyance, her mean and grumpy attitude back in an instant, as if she was not worried at all about him.

“Lucky for you,” Esmée said, motioning for him to follow her to the back of the tent “we have recently made some painkiller tonics”

Her next words, however, got lost when Cassian smelled that calming scent again.

Closer now, he could clearly smell lavender and vanilla, a familiar scent.

And that’s when he saw her.

Nesta, an apron tied over her dark green dress, her sleeves pushed back — Cassian caught himself staring at her bare forearms and resisting the urge to run his fingertips softly against her milky skin — and brows knotted in concentration while she filled some vials.

“Nesta, grab two of those vials and pack them for this headstrong Commander”

At Esmée’s words, Nesta raised her head and looked in their direction, stormy blue eyes widening slightly when she spotted Cassian beside the healer.

“So this is where she disappears to everyday after lunch”

Nesta quickly recomposed herself, effortlessly filling the small glass flasks and placing them in a little pouch, Cassian not taking his eyes off of her for a single moment.

Esmée huffed in approval, but when Nesta tried to hand it to her, the healer refused it.

“You also need to rest. You think I did not see you dozing off? Or the way you were blinking heavily while mixing the herbs?”

Cassian’s attention peaked at that, and he noticed the shadows underneath Nesta’s eyes. They were faint, fainter than his, but they were still there.

“I’m fine Esmée” Nesta strongly argued, not backing off.

“You’re off duties until you’ve had some sleep and that’s final” the matron replied “What’s the problem with you two and not sleeping? It’s not as if you don’t have a bed”

And before they even knew what had happened, Esmée had ripped the apron from around Nesta’s waist, threw her coat and banned them from the tent.

“If that overexcited pitanga appears I’ll let him know that you already left with the Commander” with this last warning, Esmée left them outside, both a little lost.

Nesta was the first one to recompose herself. She wore her coat and started walking back to the cabin, not waiting to see if Cassian was following her.

Which he obviously was, effortlessly catching up to her given his long strides.

“You seem to be very fond of walking” he tried, casting her a side glance.

“I have no wings” she snorted “How else am I supposed to get anywhere then?

“Is that an invitation to fly with me Ness?” Cassian said, half joking and half expectant of her answer.

He would not lie and say the opportunity to hold her close to him did not tempt him. And he would not lie further by saying he had not been dying to show her how beautiful Illyria could be from above.

“No” she swiftly cut his offer down, staring straight ahead.

“It’ll be fun” he tried again.

“What’s so fun about making someone sick?” Nesta snapped, and Cassian remembered the last time she had flown.

How Rhysand had purposely flew faster than she could possibly stomach, no doubt a petty move from his side.

“I would fly very slowly” he tentatively said “And not even that high”

Cassian only received silence in answer, but he could tell from the way Nesta was pursing her lips that she was tempted to say yes.

“It is faster this way” Cassian added.

“Fine,” Nesta finally answered, a hint of annoyance in her voice “but one smart trick from you and you’ll wake up with burnt eyebrows tomorrow”

“I wouldn’t dare and try to make Your Highness uncomfortable”

They stopped walking, Cassian hesitating to take the first step and embrace Nesta.

The same could not be said about her, however, who boldly got close to him.

“So? Are we going or not?”

“Eager aren’t we sweetheart” Cassian gathered her on his arms, Nesta lacing her own around his shoulders “If I knew you were so desperate to hold me I would have brought this ideia up sooner”

Before she could throw a barbed reply his way, Cassian opened his wings and shot to the sky, feeling Nesta tighten her hold and bury her head on his shoulder.

Siphons flashing, Cassian pulled a shield over them, the air that high up being colder, specially when autumn was nearing its end.

He may or may not have taken the opportunity to discreetly take a better look at Nesta.

At the way the few strands of her hair had escaped her braid, tickling his cheek as they were blew by the wind.

At the way she got braver and raised her head a little, her blue eyes the colour of the cloud free sky and sparkling with wonder.

“It’s beautiful” and Nesta’s voice was so soft, so full of wonder, that Cassian imagined if that was how she had been before the war. When she was human and all she wanted was to keep Elain happy and travel the world.

“It is”

But he was not looking at the view.

Was not looking at how the sun sparkled against the shiny peeks of the mountains, how the vast green forest beneath them looked like a gigantic carpet laid over Illyria.

Cassian was looking at the female on his arms, savouring every precious second of the moment and thanking the gods he had promised to fly slowly, just so he could hold Nesta longer.

Letting her go once they were back on the ground was one of the hardest things he had ever done, missing her warmth and her jasmine and vanilla scent as if he was missing one of his own limbs.

He hoped he affected her the same way she affected him.

Hoped she felt even a minuscule fragment of what he felt for her.

Hoped he had not misunderstood the way she too seemed to regret letting him go.

~•~

Cassian didn’t even have to take the medicine for his headache, that annoying pounding having disappeared mid flight.

Nesta Archeron, he decided, was the best medicine he could have.

And it seemed that luck was finally on his side, for when they had arrived and Cassian asked her if she’d like to eat something, Nesta surprisingly said yes, going as far as to put the kettle on the stove to boil some water for tea.

Feeling bashful and enjoying his luck, Cassian attempted to make some small talk with Nesta, asking her about her day, what she liked about learning to be a healer, what she thought about Esmée.

He had been scared she’d shut him out, but she answered his questions with no problem, asking him some in return.

Cassian’s day had started awful but seemed to be walking towards being the best he’d ever had, specially when he appeared in living room after a warm bath and spotted Nesta, once again sitting comfortably on the couch — one of her new books laid on her lap — hair in a simple braid and wearing that mouth watering leggings, combined with a white tunic that drew attention to her eyes.

The fireplace was, as usual, empty.

Cassian could not understand how Nesta managed to make do with only fur blankets, specially now that winter was fast approaching.

“The fireplace.... why don’t you like to light it?”

That caught Nesta’s attention, and he saw how she flinched.

Dangerous. It was a dangerous ground that he was walking on.

They had only talked about futilities so far. But to ask her something so personal, something he suspected was related to the war and her traumas...

He didn’t want to see her back to the dark and empty place she used to go when she had first arrived, eyes faraway and empty.

“You don’t have to answer that if you’re not comfortable, but I’m... worried” Cassian flapped his wings a little, an evident sign of his anxiousness “Winter in Illyria is ruthless”

“It was no different from when I was human” Nesta snapped, but her voice had a slight tremble to it.

“It is. And you...we won’t be able to go through it if we don’t have a fire burning” he walked towards the sofa, daring to sit down beside Nesta, but holding himself back from touching her hand, which clutched the hardcover of the book “Even the wards and walls here are not enough to keep the cold away. Winter at Illyria won’t be like winter in the human land. Or in Velaris”

Nesta only stared and stared at the fireplace, as if it would light up any minute. After some time, she spoke, her voice almost a whisper.

“The sound that the fire makes...when it burns...it reminds me of bones” she shuddered “Of bones breaking”

Her father’s neck.

Maybe even his wings.

He hadn’t known.

Hadn’t known and last solstice she had stayed all night, without complaining about the noise. Without asking to diminish the fire or even make it soundless — Cassian knew that Rhysand, Amren or even Mor would be able to do it. But she had not asked to. Had not wanted to appear weak. To most probably not worry Feyre.

Nesta had been suffering all this time.

Alone.

“I... I have no magic. At least not any apart from the killing power every Illyrian has. So I’m not able to make the fire soundless”

“But you could do it” he added softly “If you lit the fire with your powers... I think you’d be able to turn the sound of the wood snapping off. The fire would be yours to tame. To control”

“You think it would work?” she asked, and Cassian felt a sliver of hope in her tone.

Control. It was all about control. And if Nesta felt like she was in control of the situation, she would be able to support a burning fireplace, sound or not.

“I think you are able to do whatever you wish to, but the first step is to try”

“Grab the wood then” Nesta said.

And Cassian did. He piled the wood neatly, and Nesta moved to stand in front of the fireplace, standing her hands in front of her.

“Just like we practiced” Cassian softly said, moving behind her, his front only a couple of inches from her back “Reach deep within you for it, and then redirect it to the wood”

He could picture Nesta knotting her eyebrows in concentration, and her silver flames soon appeared on her hands.

“Good, now project them towards the fire” Cassian’s voice took the tone he usually used during training, a way to ground her.

Nesta’s flames got brighter and with a little push of arms they flew towards the wood, burning it.

It started small, but soon the fire was roaring, the crack crack of wood filling the air.

“Now turn it off Nesta”

“I-I can’t” she said, her whole body starting to tremble “I don’t know how”

“You can. And you will” he placed a hand on her lower back, like he had once done a lifetime ago in a war tent “You’re the one in control. The flames obey you and no else”

Nesta’s breath was coming in pants now, but the cracking of the fire gradually began to get quieter.

“Just like that Ness” he encouraged, daring to get a little closer, until his front almost touched her back “You’re doing amazing xe nhia”

With a grunt, the sound of the burning wood died out completely, and Nesta staggered back into Cassian’s chest, the flames around her fists also disappearing.

He held her against him, filled with awe and proud of her for meeting her fear head on.

Nesta straightened herself, turning to face Cassian, her blue-gray eyes shining with some hidden emotion.

“Thank you” she whispered, and Cassian swore he had never heard more precious words.

“It was all you” he shrugged “You don’t have to thank me sweetheart”

“I wouldn’t have tried it if it weren’t for you” she stubbornly replied “So accept my thanks and stop being so headstrong”

“Me? Headstrong?” Cassian chuckled, his arms tightening around her “Aren’t you talking about yourself Nessie?”

Nesta snorted, placing her hands on his chest and Cassian prayed to the gods that she wouldn’t notice how fast his heart was beating.

Being so close to Nesta did things to his heart.

And to other parts of him.

“Go make dinner you stupid bat” she said, pushing him away “Kaelin should be arriving, and I bet he’ll be starving after training”

As if on cue, the door opened and the Illyrian walked in.

“Hey...” Kaelin greeted weakly, and Cassian noticed fresh bruises on the kid’s face, the older ones barely healed.

“Kaelin!” Nesta exclaimed, practically running towards the young Illyrian “What happened?”

“Oh this is nothing” he shrugged, wincing slightly “Just lost at an one on one spar today”

“Kaelin...” Nesta tried to touch him, but the kid swiftly backed off, avoiding her.

Cassian saw the look of hurt flashing on Nesta’s face before she concealed it beneath a mask of coolness.

“I’ll just wash up and then help with dinner” saying that, Kaelin quickly left the room.

It seemed that Cassian’s luck could only go so far, for his worries about Kaelin seemed to have doubled.

•

Fixed tag list: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arinbelle @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @greerlunna @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555 @courtofjurdan @allilal @sensitiveillyrian @moe8 @illyrianwitchling13 @silvernesta @bri-loves-sunflowers @queenestarcheron @imwritingthesewords @vasudharaghavan @rainbowcheetah512 @darkshadowqueensrule @letstakethedawn @starlightorstarfire @city-of-fae

{Please let me know if you’d like to added to my Fixed Tag list}

[writingsbychlo]

Oh you just put me on a Joel mood with that headcanon! If I'm not wrong I think you did a headcanon or just told us one of your ideas a while ago that involved Joel arriving at the safe place in the mountains and meeting the reader there and she's like this badass chick and he just falls head over heels for her but his a little shy and a bit self-conscious... do you have anymore 💭 about that???

oooohhhh yes yes i have that draft going on still, but it's been there for a while, so lets make it headcanons for the meantime;

no more requests, the sleepover is over! I am just filling out all the ones left in my inbox!

okay, so, joel is a little clumsy

and yeah, sometimes he freezes up

he's come a long way since his days of panicking and silently crying in the bunker, okay?

but, he still isn't epic

and then he meets you, and holy shit, how his whole life changes

because, you're like some kind of superhero. you're like the black widow of the apocalypse

he is simply sent out with a team as a cook. he hates that his only job is to forage for berries and decide which cuts of meat he can work with

and then he sees you in action, and he thinks he falls in love

because you're so fucking badass

and you don't even break a sweat

but, he's scared

because he doesn't know how you could be so badass in the face of danger, and he actively avoids you

in his mind, he's already written you off as rejecting him, and he kinda lives in that hurt that hasn't actually happened yet

the last time he tried to speak to someone as cool as he sees you was before aimee, and he can still hear laughing in his head and the clench in his chest

so he doesn't bother

it's the third time he's sent out on a scavenging and hunting session with you, well over a year after he met you, when you talk to him

"hey, you're joel, right? I'm (Y/N.)"

"I know. I mean, I don't know that. well, now I do, and I did before, but that makes me look creepy, and- shit- uh, hi. I think."

and he is absolutely certain that laugh is coming

and a laugh does come

but not the kind of laugh he was expecting. this isn't mocking. this is just amused, sweet, kinda cute, actually..

"well, I knew you were joel before I came over. you're joel who makes great food out of basically nothing. you're kinda famous, you know."

"oh, about as famous as you are, then? the badass who's scared of nothing."

and then you're blushing, and taking a seat next to him, and he's pretty sure he might hyperventilate, because did he do that?

"those are lies. I'm scared of a lot of things, I'm just good at dealing with it, I guess."

"so, you agree, you think you're a badass?"

"okay, regina george. I am pretty badass."

"I'm so glad you got that. coulda' ruined this whole thing."

and then you do that sweet little laugh again, and he's kinda proud of himself

"I hear you can draw things. can I see?"

he gets to show off some of his drawings, and you sit with him practically all night

until you get sleepy and wander away tor est before the morning, but he can't sleep, because he's practically buzzing

the next day, that really comes back to bite him in the ass

you're almost home, so damn close, and yet so fucking far

because nobody saw it coming, and he fucking freezes again

and of course, he gets himself pretty injured

some bad cuts and scrapes

and he's fucking embarrassed when you inevitably save him

he can't even look you in the eyes, actually

walking in silence all the way back

and sulking off to his cabin, not bothering to talk to anyone

he doesn't really talk to anyone for days, because he's humiliated

the only reason that breaks, though, is because you catch him off guard

"are you avoiding me?"

"yes. everyone, actually. crippling embarrassment and the low-key wish to be swallowed up whole by the ground will do that to a man."

"and, what exactly made you feel like this?"

feeling like he's being mocked, and scoffing, and almost walking away

but then you look genuinely confused and a little hurt, and he feels guilty

confessing that he hates that he can't be more useful, and that he feels weak

and pretty much just pouring out his heart

blushing, like really fucking hard when you run your hand through his hair and tell him it's okay

"y'know, you shouldn't feel embarrassed. it's not like we went through training for this. high school classes weren't biology, literature, monster-killing combat, maths. it's okay to be scared."

getting even more embarrassed when his eyes flick down to your lips, and he's pretty sure you saw it, too

"can you teach me, though? that's a good idea. lessons."

"you want me to teach you what?"

"to be brave."

"I think you're already brave, joel."

getting all flustered again, but he kinda feels like his ego is being built up, and he feels a little better about himself

"but, if you want, I can teach you how to fight."

"yeah, I'd like that."

he hates it to begin with

because that's a lot more physical exertion than he was ready for

which makes sense, because he's seen you do some stuff that would have him floored, without even breaking a sweat

and he didn't realise quite how heavy a sword was, but he struggles for a while

and, it results in a fair few scrapes and injuries

a lot of bruised shoulders as he learns to shoot and isn't prepared for the kickback

and a lot of little nicks from swords and knives

and even trying to sharpen arrows

but, he gets there

he gets a lot less clumsy, and he gets a lot stronger

and he feels a lot braver

"you have to choose something to focus on. I heard about your journey to find aimee. find something like that to focus on again, and when you get scared, think about that instead."

"what do you think about?"

"I think about my mom."

it leads to a deep story, and a lot of confessions by the fireplace that night. really baring your souls to one another.

and he loves it, because he gets to cup your cheeks and wipe your tears away, and you end up falling asleep on his shoulder, face pressed into his neck

he carries you to bed, and when he's leaving, you grab his hand for just a second, and tell him to "stay a while", and he does

so, the first time he really gets to put his skills to the test, it doesn't go so well

he doesn't freeze up, but he fumbles a little under the pressure, and fucks it up

but you weren't there, and you're what he focuses on, and he couldn't think

the next time, though, that goes really well

he's fucking proud of himself

because this was one hell of a trip, you've been away for three weeks and that was three weeks of time together

he got to do some drawing, and lately you've become his muse and you tease him for it but he teases you back and it makes you blush in that way he loves

and the next time he gets to put all his new skills to the test, he fucking smashes it

he doesn't freeze up, and he doesn't panic

he thinks about your pretty smile and his head stays clear and get feels so fucking badass

and when he finally gets back to the little campsite set up, he's still hopped up on adrenaline

it's probably the slight sting of a bite on his shoulder, or the blood and dirt he knows he's somewhat covered in, and the ache of a hard hit to his ribs, but he's practically high on it

and you're worried for him

he finds you with your legs crossed on your bed, drawing in his sketchbook with charcoal and you look so worried for him

he drops straight to his knees, your hands on his shoulders and thumbs pushing under his jaw as you inspect the damage, and he doesn't care

he just pulls you closer, until he can bump the tip of his nose with yours

close enough that he can feel the sharp intake of breath you make

"I'm gonna' kiss you so good you hit the clouds now, m'kay?"

"kept me waiting long enough." and you barely get it out, he doesn't let you, because he can't wait any longer

he's never felt more like a badass than this moment.

[griff-us]

Title: Being So Normal Part: One Pairing: Black!Reader/Bucky Barnes Summary: Neither of them are very good at being normal. Good thing the spectrum of normalcy these days is anything but the definition of the word. In other words: two broken people mend together. Warnings: typical canon level violence, mentions of past abuse both physical and emotional, alcohol abuse and mentions of, drug abuse and mentions of.

Chapter Theme: Being So Normal, Peach Pit

Notes: Just a little self-indulgent series that's been sitting in the back of my brain that I have finally decided to work on after kinda scraping the previous one.

Sort of a Neighbors's AU mixed with a Coffee Shop Au. Lots of character introspection for the reader, and Bucky, and some fun and drama along the way. This will no doubt be a slow slow burn.

Hope yall enjoy and feel free to leave any comments or hit me with questions! Oh, mood board slapped together by me! Also, no Beta. Tbh I'm lazy and impatient so excuse any mistakes.

Saturday: 11:30pm

Sam was the one who convinced him to come---or maybe forced would be the better word. Life has been returning to somewhat normal for the two of them; Sam shouldering his mantle as Captain America, and James slowly easing into his role as Sergeant Barnes rather than The Winter Soldier. But, it’s not all easy, at least not for James. Normalcy is not his strong suit, not when the urgency of survival had been drilled into his skull for the past hundred years or so. Sure, he was comfortable, but not necessarily happy. James is lost, and no one can tell that more than Sam.

And that is how he’s found himself in this crowded club with flashing lights and a bass beat that he can feel in the pit of his stomach. It’s not that the environment is too much---it’s just that he feels so...odd out. After all, Jame’s idea of a night out used to be something more akin to a jazz bar and dancing. Not whatever gyrations and wiggling around the kids called dancing was these days.

God, he really is old.

“You gotta loosen up man, you’re killing my vibe.” Sam, as if on cue, shoulders into him. James scowls, making sure to keep a tight grip on his beer---if you could even call it that. The brewery it was from managed to pack so many damn spices and fruit in it that it tasted more like a cocktail than any beer he’s come to like.

“You’ve got a weird vibe then, Sam.” the other man laughs, elbows resting against the bar top behind them while he scopes out the scene. It’s a typical New York club; fashion being the forefront of it all, the entire reason anyone is out right now is to be seen and admired. Among other things.

“That cutie over there keeps tossing you looks, you should go say hi.” James follows Sam’s gaze across the bar. A gaggle of young women crowds around a booth, all of them eyeing them and whispering to one another. He rolls his eyes and takes a long swig of his beer.

“I think you mean they’re looking at you, Sam.” The super soldier turns back toward the bar to push his empty glass to the bartender who only nods his way and produces a refill without another word.

“Eyes up, Sergeant, they’re coming over.”

James doesn’t pay any mind to the coming onslaught; it’s always the same really. Sam is descended on by a group of gals excited to meet the new Captain America and even more enthralled when they realize he’s pretty damn charming. Not that he’s jealous in any way. Annoyed? Sure. See, he just isn’t one for new people---especially the kind that Sam tends to attract sometimes. The airheads, the young ones just waiting to hook up and never talk again. He just can’t vibe with it, can’t grasp it. Maybe he is too old for this modern age of love and romance.

James just turns his attention to the muted TV over the bar, his back facing the chatty group of women behind him while they flock to Sam like vultures starving for a meal. The news flashes between stories from all over; follow-ups on the last of the Flag Smashers, some weird disturbances in a tiny town somewhere far off, and a local story on a stray cat that is just “too cute to not have a home.” He snorts, lips smacking from the twang of his beer.

“Sorry about them.” The tiny voice from his left nearly makes him jump, and James can only blame the blaring music for his lack of attention.

“Huh?” He peers down to see an average height woman; with big brown eyes and skin a deep tan and sunkissed. By all accounts, she is stunning---and looks nearly as out of place in this massive club as he does.

“My friends---” her head jerks towards the group of women still fawning over Sam, who no doubt is loving all of the attention. “I tried to explain to them that you guys are just normal people too," she thinks they're normal? "but the alcohol made them all braver than they normally are.” The woman rolls her eyes but by the soft smile she wears he can tell she means no malice.

“And what about you?” James leans his full weight on the bar top now all the while inching closer to the woman. He can read the confusion on her face. “Are you feeling braver than normal?” she flushes at his clarification, and an easy shrug rolls from the shoulder.

“I’m just the mom friend trying to make sure my friends don’t end up dead, in jail, or worse.” James can’t help but laugh at that.

“A mom friend, huh?” gloved fingers pluck the pint glass from the bar and neither of them breaks eye contact while he swallows nearly half the glass.

“Yeah, kind of how I’ve always been; just an eighty-year-old woman at heart I guess.” James gives her a crooked grin: he could understand that.

“You’re too young to talk like that.” he elbows her gently, suddenly so comfortable with her presence that he can feel himself loosening up a bit.

“Then what’s your excuse?”

Brows cock high, that twisted little grin never once wavering from his face. He likes her---the idle and quiet wit, the way she matches his quips with equal stride.

“What’s your---” but before he can finish the group of girls are flagging her down, yanking her arm in one direction while they all gossip about how someone managed to snag Captain America’s number. James watches while she shoots him an apologetic smile while she is all but dragged back to their booth across the dance floor. Before he knows it, her face is lost in a sea of people.

“You would pick up the prettiest one.” Sam’s voice yanks James from his thoughts, and he looks up with narrowed eyes. “Don’t think I didn’t see that little flirt session. You get her number?”

“I’m going home.” James slaps a crisp bill on the bar top and Sam laughs, all loud and boisterous.

“You didn’t even get her name, did you, man?”

“Good night, Sam!” with hands shoved deep in his pockets, James turns heels and heads home.

Sunday: 8:am

The mornings were his favorite time to jog. Consider it a coping mechanism---not that he necessarily needed to go for mile-long runs or work out, what with the serum, but it was the only time his mind was truly quiet. So, James kept to a strict schedule of an hour or so run every morning followed up by a tall dark roast. Only today, he is late by nearly an hour to get to his usual coffee spot; which wouldn’t be terrible but James lives for routines. Without one, his entire day is skewed.

It’s eight in the morning when he strolls into the coffee shop, a tiny little place sat precariously on the corner of two streets only a couple blocks from his apartment. Clad in joggers and a simple black t-shirt, he strides up to the counter; eyes glued to the menu board for any new sweets that may catch his eye.

“Well hi again.” brows grow taught at their center---he knows that voice. James looks down to see the same woman from the night before. Black hair is piled high on her head and rather than the slim little dress from the night before she sports simple leggings and a graphic shirt of which the reference he is utterly lost on.

“Oh. Hi...uh....” blue eyes look for a name tag, and he finds none. Damn it.

“Y/N” she smiles wide at him, much like she had in the club only this time, with better lighting, he can make out the dimples that crease each of her cheeks.

“Y/N.” he repeats her name back slowly. “Uh, nice to meet you, or see you again. I guess.” he points to himself, “I’m Bucky.” said so lamely, so simply, he really can’t blame her for laughing at him.

“I know. What can I get for you, James?”

James.

That throws him; tosses him so off-kilter the man can hardly remember his order. Sure a couple people call him James, well really only his mother and his therapist when he’s in deep shit but…. To hear a name nearly forgotten to himself, and from her? Well, it turns his brain to static.

“Just a large black coffee and one of those brownies please.” She nods and starts to prep his order, all the while he stands there like an idiot with a ten-dollar bill in his hand and his heart in his throat. Finally, he finds a safe landing back on earth.

“How was the rest of your night with your friends?” Y/N groans while she pours him a fresh cup of coffee.

“Catty. I finally got the last one home around three in the morning. Got home just in time for a nap before I came in here.”

“That sounds---awful.” James trades her the coffee for the ten, and watches while she works the register.

“Wasn’t so bad. I don’t sleep much these days anyway.” Y/N offers the change back to James but only nods his head toward the tip jar.

“Sounds like you earned it. Did you just start working here?" he's never seen her working here before, and per his routine, James is here around this time at least five times a week.

"Covering for a friend, I usually work the closing shift if I'm not teaching." Teaching? James would assume she'd be on the younger side to teach.

"I'll have to come more often around that time then." he watches while round cheeks twitch, and flush.

“Deal. I’ll uh...see you around, James?”

“Y-yeah. See you around, Y/N”

[fromtheo-withlove]

Pt. 3 - The Sentencing

A huge thank you to anyone reading :) I’m so grateful for all the support and I’m excited to keep going with this story!

TW: mild violence, death threats, near-death experience, reference to war crimes, choking

@ihaveacrushonjester

Masterlist | Previous | Next

------

Bennett took a deep breath and looked up at the king, trying to look braver than he felt.

He had known this war would probably kill him. He had envisioned it a thousand times. A sword through his armor, a volley of arrows maybe. With the way things had been going, he even thought it might’ve been one of his own soldiers putting a blade to his neck while he slept.

At first, the notion terrified him and he was vigilantly on guard during battle. But eventually he grew weary, and at times he had even selfishly hoped for death, knowing that the pain and bloodshed of war would continue without him, but wanting to be free of it himself. He became bolder in his fighting style, often leaving himself exposed, but he hadn’t realized the enemy only wanted him alive.

He realized it now, as he knelt bound at the kings feet, waiting to hear his death sentence.

“I know the pain of war well. God knows Baramont has faced more than its fair share even before now,” the king sighed. “But this conflict has taken a greater toll on our kingdom than all of those wars combined. We had decades of peace with Lianhar. It should have never come to this.” He paused and shook his head.

“Prince Bennett, when you were a child living in this castle, I treated you like you were family. Now, you kneel before me, a man, accused of murdering my people in cold blood. Not only soldiers. No…. that would at least be expected in a time of war. Perhaps even forgivable….” The king’s voice filled with a growing rage.

“But your soldiers crossed that line. When you started to lose, your men burned villages in retaliation. Razed crop fields. Killed innocent men, women, and children. Probably took liberties I won’t dare utter. This is simply unforgivable.”

Bennett stayed silent but stared at the floor, jaw clenched. “Bennett, do you have anything to say in response to this accusation?”

“He’s right. I’m a monster,” Bennett thought to himself. “I deserve to drown in the blood I’ve allowed to be spilled.”

After a moment’s pause, he spoke. “I accept responsibility for the accusations levied against me, Your Highness.” He heard a sob from Aurelia. He couldn’t bare to look at her, didn’t deserve to gaze upon her face.

“I was the commander of the regiment that committed those crimes. I deeply regret that they occurred and I-“ his own voice began to catch. “I know I can never bring back what’s been lost. I-… I never meant-”

“That’s enough,” the king interjected coldly. “It doesn’t matter what you meant or regret. I’ve heard enough to pass your sentence.”

Bennett nodded. He was ready for this all to be over.

“You know you must die for these crimes, don’t you?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Bennett kept his head down, too ashamed to face the man he once thought of as a second father.

“Good. But you must also know that a quick execution is a mercy... One not afforded to war criminals.”

Hearing those words, Bennet felt his stomach drop in fear. He should’ve expected it. He knew he deserved a drawn-out punishment.

But he also knew he had always been weak and pathetic. Even as he tried desparately to be brave, it felt hard to breathe. He barely registered the cheers and taunts coming from the audience.

“You will eventually die for your crimes. But it will not be today. You will be kept as a prisoner and tortured until I decide you’ve suffered enough to even start atoning for your crimes. You will also be a warning to other neighboring kingdoms – they’ll know what awaits them if they go to war with Baramont.”

Bennett had started to count in his head, trying to slow his breathing, tune out the room around him. He knew his own suffering was a small price to pay if it meant the end of the war. He needed to focus on that.

The king continued,“If you were a lone actor, we could leave your sentence at that. But you represent Lianhar, and your father the king deserves to be punished as well. You may have led your regiment, but he was the one who incited this war in the first place.”

Bennett finally glanced up from the floor, looking up at the king in fear and confusion.

“In order to truly punish your father and kingdom, make them suffer as we have, we cannot just kill soldiers can we? Innocents died on our side. And justice is justice.”

Bennett paled. “No, please, Your Highness. Please let this end with me, add to my debts. Punish me more! Don’t hurt Lianhar’s civilians, I beg of you.” Bennett looked at the king, apprehension in his eyes. This was supposed to be over. This damn war needed to be over.

“Don’t worry Prince Bennett, I’m not as cruel as the rulers of Lianhar. I’m not talking about civilians. I found a way to punish your father and kingdom without involving them. As punishment for this war, your royal bloodline will end with you and with Gabriel.” The king beckoned to the guards near the doors. “Bring Prince Gabriel in.”

They had Gabriel? “Wait. NO! No, oh god no.” Bennett struggled against the hands holding him down on his knees. They were prepared for him to fight at the news. “You can’t do this! He’s not a soldier! This can’t be happening…”

But as the doors opened and Bennett’s guard shoved him around to watch, Bennett saw his worst nightmare unfolding before him.

His little brother, his kind-hearted, intelligent, better-than-he’d-ever-be little brother, was being shoved forward by a guard. His hands were shackled together tightly in front of him and a white blindfold covered his eyes.

“Gabriel!” He tried to go towards his brother, but he was still being held down.

“Bennett?!” his brother’s voice cracked. Bennett fought harder, but only earned himself a kick to the stomach.

“Your Highness, please, have mercy. Gabriel had nothing to do with this war. He wanted peace, none of this was his fault.”

“That’s exactly why he must be punished as well. It’s not his fault, I’m well aware. Gabriel, I am sorry you must be involved. But we need peace and retribution. And Lianhar needs to learn its lesson. Besides, Bennett, did your men stop to think about how many of my people just wanted peace when they were slaughtering them?”  

Gabriel was silent as he was finally forced down near his brother, but Bennett could see that he was trembling. He so badly wanted to go to him, apologize and beg for his forgiveness, but he was still being restrained. He realized with growing horror that he couldn’t fix this. The tears that had had managed to hold back came all at once. Sobs wracked his body. “Gabriel, I’m- I’m so sorry. Your Highness, just punish me, please.”

In desperation, he glanced at Aurelia, who looked as stricken as he was. “Please,” he begged through tears. He saw her stand and reach for her father’s arm, but he turned to her and whispered something to her angrily. She sat back down, looking sorrowful.

The king nodded to the knight standing near Gabriel. “The punishment, as we discussed.”

They were starting his punishment already? Bennett began to panic.

The knight near Gabriel grabbed the prince’s dark curls in his fist and pulled him up so that he was standing. Gabriel whimpered and tried to pull away to no avail. He was still blindfolded, and he flinched when he felt guards grab both of his arms. The shackles holding his wrists were unlocked, but his arms were immediately wrenched behind his back and reshackled. He looked around blindly, trying to understand what was happening to him.

“Benne-“

His frightened whisper was cut off as the knight suddenly wrapped his hands around his throat. Gabriel struggled but the hands only tightened as he was lifted onto his toes. He opened his mouth, trying desperately to breathe, but finding no air.

“Noooooooo,” Bennett moaned, his voice breaking on a sob. He was held back by two guards now - he was powerless. “Please stop, please let him breathe. Plea-ease, I’ll do anything.”

Seconds felt like an eternity. He wasn’t stopping. Time ticked by and he wasn’t stopping. Bennett could vaguely hear jeers from the crowd, this was hell. Gabriel was twitching, barely struggling anymore. They were going to kill him here and now. This had to be a nightmare. Please, let this be a nightmare.

“Enough,” the king ordered. Immediately, Gabriel was released and crumpled to the floor. For a split second, Bennett was sure he was dead, but then he started taking gasping, ragged breaths.

“That’s enough for today. Guards, escort our prisoners to the dungeons and clean them up. They need to be ready for our banquet tomorrow. They’ll be the entertainment for the night.”

Bennett didn’t have a chance to check on his brother before he was dragged away. He was filled with relief that his brother was still alive, but he couldn’t shake the horrible thought that it was selfish to want him to live through this too.

------

Continue reading: Next part

[nikibogwater]

Two Worlds, One Family--a Mermaid AU oneshot

I don't know, y'all, it's ten after one and I can't think of any other titles so just accept the cheesey Phil Collins reference and go with it--

A few weeks ago, my dear FMA Buddy Willow requested a fic set in my Merman!Douxie AU (you can see the rough character designs for that here). Well, today, I desperately needed a break from working on the RotT fic, but I also still felt like writing, so I sat down and cranked this one out in basically one sitting.

It uh, sort of got away from me, I'll admit lol.

We've got sappy Siren!Zoe x Merman!Douxie, Underwater Found Family, Archie having to be the Adult of the group, and also an honest-to-goodness argument between our favorite Magical Siblings, which is something I've sort of always wanted to tackle, but I was never able to find a good way to do it while sticking to current canon. Here, they're both younger and have been in a pod together for several hundred years, allowing the stress of their situation to build up and--Y'know what, I'll just let you guys read the dang thing now.

~~~~~

The black waves rolled beneath an inky, starless sky. A freezing wind cut through the air like a knife. Salty foam sprayed up from where the water lapped against Zoe’s perch. It was a thoroughly miserable night to be away from her nest.

But still, she waited.

She shivered and folded her wings around herself tightly. Twenty-seven years, one-hundred and eighty-three days. That was how long it had been since she’d last seen him. He had said in his last message that he would be here tonight. And so, no matter how fiercely the wind beat against her, no matter how badly the freezing spray stung as it hit her, she refused to move. Douxie’s life was already haunted by uncertainties and betrayals. She would rather die than contribute to such things.

Finally, she heard him. His call was masked beneath the sound of the sea, but she could feel it reverberating through her like a roll of thunder--the steady, fast-paced, yet gentle clicks of a merman searching for his mate.

Her wings snapped open, and though the rush of cold air that met her was unpleasant, she didn’t flinch. Electric blue eyes stared fixedly at the water below her for a moment. And then she finally saw it--the silvery sheen of moonlight hitting dark blue scales.

Zoe didn’t even wait for him to make it all the way to the surface before she dove in.

Douxie tumbled back in the water as she slammed into him, and for a few joyous moments, his world was made up entirely of swirling bubbles, warm feathers, and the feeling of Zoe in his arms. He had just enough sense to bring both of them back up to the surface before her lips were on his. Her wings closed around him tightly, and he could feel the tingle of her electric magic in the water around him, but she was just as careful as ever. She’d never shocked him, not in all the years they’d known each other.

“Sorry I’m late,” he breathed, once she’d pulled back for air. She shook her head, nose brushing against his.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said gruffly. Her voice was choked with tears, but he knew better than to point that out. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

“I never would have guessed,” he chuckled, trailing a few kisses down her cheek as she huffed and half-heartedly swatted his shoulder. There were a few moments of silence as they simply held each other, broken only by the sound of the waves and a few soft, contented clicks from Douxie. Zoe had asked him centuries ago why he always clicked when he was happy. He’d seemed genuinely surprised to hear that she didn’t do the same. Merperson biology was a very strange thing indeed. Finally, Zoe picked her head up from his shoulder and looked him in the eye.

“Nari and Archie?”

“Safe,” he answered. “They wanted to see you, but I didn’t want to risk bringing Nari up to the surface, and Archie agreed to stay with her. We had a close call with the Order a few weeks ago off the coast of Ireland--they never actually saw her, and I don’t think they know she’s been hiding in the ocean but...” He shook his head, sighing wearily. “...They can’t know where she is. Not ever. I just couldn’t let her come with me tonight.”

“I understand,” Zoe said, brushing his wet bangs out of his eyes.

“How is the flock?” Douxie asked.

“...Surviving,” she replied after a moment’s hesitation. “...We lost Ariadne to a navy ship two years ago. They shot her right out of the air....took her body on board and we couldn’t get her back. We don’t know what they did with her corpse.” She felt him shudder at the news. He pulled her back in and kissed her temple.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, and she knew he meant it, knew he felt her pain as keenly as if it was his own. He always was a little too empathetic for his own good. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him that, so she simply clutched him tight and let him stroke her hair, as the waves gently rocked the both of them.

“The world’s getting more and more dangerous for people like us,” she murmured into his shoulder. “And the ironic thing is now it’s all because of mortals. As if angry demigods and warmongering trolls weren’t enough on their own.”

“Killahead tipped the balance in their favor. But I’d hoped they would use that as an opportunity to make peace with magic. Not try to exterminate it for good...”

“You’ve always put too much faith in humans, Douxie,” Zoe sighed.

“Perhaps,” he admitted, hand still carding idly through her feathery locks. “...Merlin was a human too, though.” Zoe snorted at that.

“If that crotchety old windbag was the best humanity has to offer, then it’s no wonder things turned out like this.”

“He saved my life, Zoe,” Douxie argued softly, pulling back to look her in the eye. “I would never have met you if it weren’t for him.”

“I still say he was a far ways off from being a ‘good man,’” she retorted. “...But I understand your loyalty to him.” Douxie felt her right wing shift around him--the same one he had bandaged and tended all those centuries ago. “...Enough of that. I have more important news for you. There’s talk of a secret community of magical creatures like us forming in the New World--a settlement off the western coast. The trolls found a new Hearthstone there, and they’re building a sanctuary. The water there is supposed to be charged with all kinds of magic, and I’ve even heard rumors about merpeople living there. The flock has decided to migrate there, at least temporarily. I would advise you to do the same. Nari would be happier in warmer waters, and there’s a chance you could join a larger pod there. You haven’t seen one of your own species in centuries, right? And we...” she faltered, realizing that she was letting her eagerness get the better of her now. “...we could be together again. No more of these long separations.”

“...It almost sounds too good to be true,” Douxie breathed.

“Maybe it is,” Zoe chuckled mirthlessly. “But we won’t know unless we check it out for ourselves. I’m leaving with the flock in the morning.”

“I’ll....consider it,” Douxie relented. “If it was just me and Arch, I’d be on my way there tonight, no hesitation. But now that I have Nari to protect--”

“I get it,” Zoe cut him off quickly. “I just....thought I’d let you know. In case it works out somehow.” She looked down, the hand that was resting over his heart clenching into a fist.

“...Hey.” Douxie tilted her chin back up to look her in the eye. “Whatever happens, wherever we go, I know we’ll always find each other again. That’s what it means to be a pod.”

“...Right.” Zoe gave a half-hearted laugh, and gently bumped her forehead against his. “Alright. Now I want to know what you’ve been getting up to. Tell me everything.”

“We’d be here all night if I did that,” Douxie chuckled.

“Sounds good to me,” Zoe murmured, drawing him close once more.

*****

Douxie didn’t return until it was almost sunrise.

Nari hadn’t been expecting anything else, but she still couldn’t help the way her heart twisted in her chest at the sight of his exhausted, melancholy countenance. He slipped into the den quietly, stopping just long enough to renew the concealing spells around the entrance, before floating to the floor with a sigh, burying his face in a still-sleeping Archie’s fur. He’d hardly been there a full minute when he blearily opened one eye, and looked around as though he was missing something.

“Nari?” he whispered into the darkness. “Everything alright?” He must have felt her aura--there were times when Nari found the magical bond they shared somewhat inconvenient. She sighed, unhooked her tail from the frond she had anchored herself to, and flitted over to him.

“All is well. I....woke early.” The truth was, she’d been awake for most of the night, head too cluttered up with unwanted thoughts to let her rest. She curled her tail up beneath her and settled on the floor. “How is Zoe?”

“Beautiful,” Douxie answered without thinking, then turned bright red. Nari stifled a giggle in her hand. “I-I mean she’s fine. The flock’s down to just twelve sirens now... The mortals are getting braver and more dangerous. They’re going to fly west and try to find safer nesting grounds.” He paused, his tail swishing up and down thoughtfully.

“...Douxie?” Nari prodded.

“Zoe was telling me about a settlement across the ocean--a secret community of magical creatures. There’s a Trollmarket near the coast, and....possibly merpeople like me. That’s where she and her flock are going now. She... She wants us to go too.”

“This idea troubles you,” Nari observed, feeling the way his aura was turning with uncertainty. “Why?”

“It’s quite literally on the other side of the world,” Douxie explained. “We would have to cross open waters to get there, and even with my magic, the journey could take months. There’s no guarantee we would be able to find safe places to hide on the way, and even once we get there...” He sighed, ears drooping slightly. “...I don’t know if we’d really be safe.”

“We will never be safe anywhere, Douxie,” Nari said softly. “For as long as you are with me, you will be in danger. The Order will continue to search for me. They will not stop until they have found me and opened the Genesis Seals. They are not limited by time and space as we are. They could find me on the other side of the world just as easily as they could here.” She hated the way his aura seemed to grow cold as she spoke, his hand clenching against the stone he was resting on.

“...So what are you saying?” he asked after a long pause. “Do you think we should go?” Nari looked down, hands wringing in her lap.

For nearly five-hundred years, Douxie and Archie had dedicated their lives to caring for her. They had been her fins when she was still learning to swim, her warmth in the cold, deep waters of the north. They had been her guardians, and more than that, they had been her brothers. Both Douxie and Archie had taken her into their tiny pod, accepted her as one of their own, though she could not be more different from them if she tried. She had lost count of the number of times they bled for her, and she for them, as they fought to withstand the dangers of the sea together.

But she could never ignore the longing she felt in Douxie’s spirit, his heartache every time he was forced to part with Zoe in order to take Nari to safer waters. She couldn’t blind herself to the tears she knew he shed when he thought he was alone, couldn’t pretend all was well when that empty space in his heart hurt so much he couldn’t keep his aura from twisting in pain.

Which was why she now found herself telling him something she had never wanted to tell him.

“...I think you and Archie should go,” she whispered. “...and I will stay.”

Douxie’s tail thrashed suddenly, and his soul sparked with something akin to anger. Archie snorted and whipped his head up, ears perked and blearily searching for the source of his Familiar’s distress.

“No.” Douxie’s voice was hard as he grasped her by the shoulder. “That’s not an option.”

“You know it is, Douxie!” Nari argued. “You are not bound to me by the laws of magic, I am not your appointed ward--You could be with Zoe if you would only--”

“If I would only what? Cast out one of my own? Break my pod apart?!”

“Who are we casting out...?” Archie yawned. “Can it wait until morning, perhaps?”

“But you love her!” Nari argued desperately. “You deserve to be with her, you deserve better than this.”

“And I also love you! I don’t give a damn about the wizarding customs, you are part of my family, and down here, family is just as much of a binding contract as any ward-appointment or whatever!”

“Oh for the love of Poseidon, didn’t you two just have this fight not three decades ago?” Archie snapped. “Nari, you know how important pods are to merpeople--that includes mates, friends, offspring, and siblings. We leave none behind, no matter the cost. And if you’ve got a problem with that, well you should have considered that before agreeing to come with us all those centuries ago. I did try to warn you, after all. Now both of you, settle down and get some sleep, for goodness’ sake! It sounds like we have a long swim ahead of us.” He swam around in a circle three times, and resettled on the ground. Douxie opened his mouth to argue further, but Archie grabbed the front of his shirt with his teeth and pulled him down on top of him. “I said settle down,” he huffed. “You too, Nari. I know you were awake half the night working yourself into this state.”

“I was not working myself into anything,” she grumbled, curling up between Archie’s paws.

A long, heavy silence fell upon them. Nari could feel Douxie’s aura gradually settling, as anger gave way to exhaustion. She could have sworn he was almost asleep, when suddenly, his hand found hers and squeezed it.

“...I won’t settle for less Nari,” he whispered. “That’s why I won’t leave you. I need all of you--Zoe, Archie, and you, and I won’t....I can’t stop fighting until all of you are safe, and we can all be together. I know Zoe will be alright with her flock, and we can always find each other again. But I won’t leave you to face the Order on your own.” She heard him shift, readjusting his head where it was pillowed against Archie. “...I’d rather die.”

Nari swallowed the knot that rose in her throat and squeezed his hand in return.

“...Merpeople are so very unusual,” she murmured. “Even after all this time, I’ll never fully understand you, or your ways. But....I am truly happy to be part of them--part of your pod--even if I cannot fathom these sorts of bonds.”

“You’ll get it eventually,” Douxie huffed. “...Anyways, Arch was right--”

“I’m always right,” the Familiar interjected without bothering to open his eyes.

“--we should get some sleep. I guess we have a long journey ahead of us.”

“You have decided then?” Nari asked.

“The opportunity’s too good to pass up. Just promise me you’ll stay with us.”

“...Alright,” she whispered. “I promise.” There was another pause. “...And I love you too. More than I know how to say. That is why it hurts so much to know when you are suffering.”

“I know.” Douxie’s hand squeezed hers one more time, and Archie shifted his head to rest across her shoulders.

Come what may, they had to stay together. That was what it meant to be a pod. And though the thought of the journey ahead of them was daunting, it was made easier by the knowledge that they would undertake it together. And that at the end of it, the last missing part of their family was waiting for them. The pod would be whole again at last, safe in a secret haven for all displaced magical creatures.

A haven that would, in another few centuries, come to be known as Arcadia Oaks, California.

Hope you enjoyed, Willow! Thanks for reading. ✨

[starscheme]

Change My World

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Wake Up Little Mermaid 

Spinel awoke with a painful groan. It felt as if rocks were tumbling around in her head. She placed her hand against her forehead, her vision a bit blurry as she opened her eyes. Once she was able to focus on the scene around her, Spinel's heart jumped to her throat as she gasped. She was in the water.

Spinel had woken up in an underwater home. One that she didn't recognize. She looked down at her hands and noticed the bright pink scales that laced her skin. She was no longer wearing the dress that Steven had bought for her, but the Gem at her chest was still there. However, the heart-shaped Gem was no longer upside down. Wasn't it supposed to be this way? For some reason, she thought it should've been upside down, but it always right side up, wasn't it?

"...my dress..." she mumbled to herself, wondering why she had worried about wearing one. For a moment, she had a fleeting feeling that she had lost something given to her, but that wasn't the case. Why would she be wearing a dress unless she needed to go on land?

"Spinel?" came an upbeat, husky voice from behind.

"Oh...Amethyst..." greeted Spinel absently.

A purple mermaid swam around Spinel with a smile, her long hair flowing behind her as she did so.

"What's the matter," she asked, "you seem out of it."

Spinel stared at the mermaid in silence, as if she hadn't seen her in quite some time. Her eyes drifted to the Gem at Amethysts chest and it was like a flash of light went off in her head. Spinel hunched over, covering her stomach as she closed her eyes tight, trying to suppress the pain that shot through her head. A fogged over image of Amethysts Gem covered in blood and Amethyst shouting out for her to run.

"Spinel!" Amethyst shouted, grabbing the pink mermaid's shoulders to get her attention. "What happened?! You okay?!"

The pain in Spinel's head subsided rather quickly as she opened her eyes and focused on Amethyst's face. What was that? It couldn't have been a memory. Nothing like that had ever happened before. She forced a smile and shook her head, "Ah...I'm fine. ...just a little...out of sorts I guess."

Amethyst seemed unconvinced, but she released Spinels shoulders and sighed.

"I guess I would be too if I were you. ...I came to cheer you up, but I guess that was doomed from the start."

"Cheer me up?" repeated Spinel curiously. Why would she need that?

"Yeah. I heard about what happened. I'm sure they wanted to keep it under wraps, but some of my clan was part of the guard when it happened. So of course I would hear about it."

Spinel felt lost. It was like she stuck in a strange fog. She could hardly remember anything important and for some reason, she felt as if she shouldn't be here.

"...what do you...?"

Amethyst frowned and leaned in, staring hard at Spinels Gem.

"It doesn't look like they cast anything on you. ...maybe you're just in shock?"

"Th-that must be it..." replied Spinel, relieved to have an excuse for her confusion. She didn't want to admit that her head was such a mess.

"It's going to be okay," insisted Amethyst, taking Spinel's hands into her own with a determined expression in her eyes. "We can find a way to sneak you in."

"How will we do that?" asked Spinel, deciding it was best to simply go along with the strange conversation rather than ask Amethyst what was going on.

Amethyst looked around to make sure no one was swimming by before she leaned in a bit more.

"The other Amethyst guards can help. When they rotate the shifts in a couple of days, they can allow you into the garden. It won't be a problem since I heard that Steven turned away the new playmate they gave to him."

The fog around Spinel seemed to lift slightly when she heard Steven's name. She knew who that was. Someone important. Someone that was taken from her. Was he in danger? Suddenly, she felt an overwhelming urge to find him.

"He's okay?! He's not hurt or anything?!" Spinel asked desperately.

Amethyst seemed taken aback by Spinels sudden change, but she gripped her friend's hands.

"Calm down. He's fine. Just because they can punish you, doesn't mean they would punish him."

Spinel shook her head. That wasn't right. Steven was taken. Wasn't he? She didn't know where he was and had to go and get him.

"No! They took him and I have to find him!"

As Spinel started to struggle to rip her hands from Amethyst, the purple Mermaid panicked and held tighter.

"Spinel! Calm down! No one took him! He's fine!"

"No! You're wrong! This is all wrong!" Spinel shouted. "Those humans-they took him for protecting me! I-I saw it! It was..." Spinel trailed off during the struggle, trying to remember these events she was raving about, but honestly, it seemed like a dream now. She ceased her fighting and took a few deep breaths. Is that what happened? Did she just have a bad dream? Now that she thought on it harder, there was no way that human guards would come and take Steven. They couldn't. "...no...you're right. ...I...I must've had a nightmare..."

Amethyst sighed in relief and slowly released Spinel's hands, "...I figured this would be hard on you...but it's worse than I thought. They must have punished you pretty harshly..." The purple mermaid growled through gritted teeth and a spiked whip appeared in her hand. She swung it at once, striking a stone pillar that immediately crumbled. "Those bastards! What did you do that was so terrible!? Just because they don't like it-"

Spinel watched her friend get angry for her and she felt a bit more grounded. Perhaps Amethyst was right. Perhaps she had been punished too severely and it messed with her head. Even if she couldn't fully recall why she had been punished.

"...I'll be fine. You don't have to worry too much."

"But you were locked up for weeks! Who knows what that crazy Agate did to you! You and I both know that she takes pleasure in causing pain..."

"Will you quiet down!" insisted a strong, commanding voice as Bismuth swam over with an unamused expression. "You'll alert the entire reef."

Amethyst huffed and her whip vanished before she crossed her arms over her chest.

"As if you can lecture me about being quiet."

Bismuth rolled her eyes but turned to Spinel with a compassionate smile. "Sorry it took so long, but we had to make sure that Sapphire wasn't watching our movements."

"What's going on?" Amethyst asked suspiciously.

"Mind your own Bismuth," joked the shark-tailed Mermaid with a wink before she took out a small pink orb and placed it into Spinels hands.

"What's thi-" Spinel began to ask, only to be silenced as Bismuth pressed a finger to her lips.

"Hold it to your Gem and think about who you want to see. It won't last too long, but we can cover for you in the meantime. I know it's not much, but it's all we can do for now. Just remember to tell Steven that everything is going as planned."

Spinel was a bit confused, but it wasn't any worse than she had been already. At least she understood that this was supposed to help her see Steven in some way. Without waiting another moment, she held the orb to her Gem and closed her eyes. Whether her memories were in place or not, the only sure thing was her concern for Steven. even if she didn't quite know why. A warm light washed over her and when Spinel opened her eyes again, she was floating above a beautiful garden.

"...Wasn't this place..." Spinel mumbled to herself, swimming slowly down towards the lovely flowers, stopping at the top of a small stone platform that at in the middle of the garden.

"Spinel!"

The voice that called out her name was one that no matter how muddled her memory was, she wouldn't forget. Spinning around, her heart jumped against her chest when she saw Steven dashing up the stone steps. Though she was happy to see him, her smile faded slightly as she stared at him. The Steven in her memory had dark eyes and ebony hair, but the Steven that was rushing towards her had light pink curls and his eyes were a bright pink hue with pupils the shape of diamonds. What was even more strange was that he was somehow breathing under water. How was that possible? Could he do that before and why was he wearing some sort of hospital gown?

"...Steven?" Spinel questioned aloud, trying to piece her thoughts together.

Before Spinel could figure out what was going on, Steven finally made his way to her and without hesitation, wrapped his arms around her to pull her into a tight embrace.

"I missed you so much," he exclaimed happily.

"W-wait a sec," stammered Spinel as her cheeks began to burn.

"Sorry, Sorry," chuckled Steven as he pulled back, but leaning back in to plant kisses along her cheek. "I didn't mean to surprise you."

His gentle kisses caused Spinel to freeze up, her heart pounding rapidly as his breath hit her skin. She knew he was affectionate, but she still wasn't entirely used to all this. Mostly she was just happy to see that he was safe. "Well I-"

"What's the matter?" Steven asked, pressing his forehead against hers with a playful smile. "Didn't you miss me too?"

This man didn't look like the Steven that she remembered, but they certainly acted the same, even if this one was a little braver about it. “St-Steven...something is wrong...” she admitted. From the moment she opened her eyes, Spinel felt that things were warped. Now that she was face to face with Steven, her head was a bit clearer. None of this was right. She placed her hands on Stevens shoulders and pushed him back, trying to piece things together. “I...I was on the surface. We fell and you protected me. Those humans...you sent me away and I need to find you...”

“What’re you talking about?” Steven asked, genuinely confused.

“It wasn’t a dream. It happened!” Spinel exclaimed adamantly. “I don’t know what this is, but it’s not right!”

Steven smiled sadly at Spinel and the Mermaid felt a twinge of guilt. This was just a strange dream, wasn’t it? Steven couldn’t breath under water and he didn’t look like this. So why did she feel bad for rejecting this place?

Steven reached over and placed his hand over the Gem that sat over Spinels chest. “You’re not my Spinel?”

Shifting back, Spinel covered her Gem with her hands and shook her head, “this is a dream. Just some weird dream caused by that-that weird pink illusion. I need to wake up and find Steven. My Steven.”

“You’re Steven?” He repeated with a renewed smile, seemingly relieved. “...I guess that means i kept my promise.”

Spinels confusion quickly turned to frustration. She was tired of all the vague conversations. Even in her dreams everyone seemed to talk in circles so that she wouldn’t fully grasp what was going on. However, it wasn’t as if she wanted many answers either. The closer she got to the truth, the more terrified she was. She opened her mouth as if she was about to shout at Steven, but he shook his head and stopped her cold.

“It’s okay,” he began gently. “You don’t have to remember anything.”

“...what does that mean?” Spinel asked despite her defiance in diving any further into this.

“It means...that you can forget everything. Just let it all go. I know why you’re here...but I never wanted you to look back.”

Stevens words led Spinel to believe that this was some sort of memory, but it couldn’t have been. She’d never met Steven before being captured and he didn’t look like this. So why did she feel so miserable? As if she were saying goodbye. “...I don’t...know you...” she mumbled, mostly trying to convince herself not to feel bad. Still, her eyes burned and warm tears slipped from her eyes, mixing into the water around her.

“Don’t worry,” Steven said as he stepped forward, reaching over to place his hand against her cheek. “I know this isn’t goodbye. Not really. Find your Steven and be happy. That’s all I wanted. That’s what we promised...”

“I don’t understand,” choked out Spinel as she held back the remainder of her tears.

“You don’t need to,” insisted Steven, with a sympathetic smile. “The only thing you ever needed to remember, is that no matter how this world changes...I will always find you.”

His words stung. Why did this hurt so much? This never happened. It was a stupid dream that she couldn’t get out of. So than why couldn’t she stop the tears? “You’re the one that lost, you idiot...” sobbed Spinel, rubbing her eyes defiantly in an attempt to stifle the tears.

“Heh, well than I guess you’d better go and find me,” chuckled Steven, grabbing her wrists and gently pulling her hands away from her face so that he could meet her eyes. “Don’t ever look back,” he whispered, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. “Be happy...my beautiful Spinel.”

The pink mermaids tears finally stopped. She may not have completely understood all this, but his words warmed her heart somehow. “Once I wake up...I can go and find my Steven.”

“That’s right,” he replied, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against hers. “This is just a dream. It’s time to wake up now...”

Spinel closed her eyes as well, feeling a sense of peace like this. She wanted to say goodbye, but a warm, pink light washed over her before she could say a word and the Steven in front of her faded into that light, vanishing from her sight. When the light faded out, Spinel was staring up at star filled sky. She was back in the forest, laying on her back against the ground amongst the fallen leaves. Tear stains marked her her cheeks as she stared silently at the night sky. “...I woke up...” she whispered to no one, placing her hand over the Gem beneath her dress. It was time to wake up and head forward. It was time to find her Steven.

[29-pieces]

After the Ritz, pt 2 -- Good Omens snippet

“Erm, I can, y’know… go first,” Crowley hedged when Aziraphale didn’t say anything. “If you like.”

He always had been the braver one of the two, Aziraphale thought with a swell of even deeper affection. He nodded, reaching for the bottle of wine, but Crowley took it out of his hand and set it on the table.

“No,” the demon said softly. “Sober. So you know.”

The intensity in both his voice and golden eyes left Aziraphale breathless, and he wordlessly nodded again.

“I love you, Aziraphale. I think… I think I always have. Didn’t know it, you know, couldn’t have, reckoned it wasn’t possible for someone like me. It was the— the Garden. Really didn’t expect you’d actually fancy a chat, but then…” Crowley laughed, a telltale hint of wateriness to it. “You gave away your sword, what in Someone’s name, you really were something else, Aziraphale. And I just… I don’t know how to explain it. I couldn’t control it, certainly wasn’t looking for it, I just knew there was… I don’t know, there was a connection.”

“I didn’t know what to think,” Aziraphale replied honestly with a foggy smile. He looked up at Crowley through damp lashes, suddenly bashful. “You weren’t at all what I was bracing for. I thought you must be trying to catch me off guard, you know, but then you really did just want to talk. Not an ounce of hostility anywhere to be found. I had to scold myself quite soundly for assuming the worst, when truly you didn’t seem malicious, so much as… well, I suppose… lonely.”

Crowley looked away, a bit of the intensity in his snake eyes fading. “S’pose I was,” he muttered. “Anyway, it took a while for me to figure it out, and even then I knew I couldn’t say it. I knew how dangerous it was. I never wanted to put you at risk, angel, didn’t want anyone upstairs thinking there was even a chance I might actually… you know, corrupt you or anything, or that would have been it for you."

“I suppose at the very least I would have been reassigned,” Aziraphale agreed, not missing the flash of fury in Crowley. He sighed. “Very well, then, yes, there’s also a chance they might have… simply silenced me, if they thought it was too late.”

Something dark and unintelligible spilled from Crowley’s lips, but he brushed it aside in favor of hesitantly reaching for Aziraphale’s hand and catching it in his own.

“I couldn’t say it before,” he repeated. “But I can now, and I’m going to. I love you. It’s really that simple.”

A warm flush that had nothing to do with the wine burned in Aziraphale’s heart and radiated out like sunlight. He didn’t realize he was actually exuding that light until Crowley broke the mood by squinting a bit, to which Aziraphale squeaked in embarrassment.

“Sorry…”

“Don’t be,” Crowley said, barely biting back the grin. Then, he coughed. “Anyway, erm… that’s me, then.”

Right, which meant it was his turn now. Knowing how Crowley felt about him at least took some of the unfathomable terror out of putting himself on the line, perhaps to be scorned or rejected, so Aziraphale took a deep, bolstering breath.

“I… I don’t know when I first really knew it,” he confessed. “Quite early. I felt connected to you, as well. How could we not be? The only two ethereal beings—”

“Occult.”

“—ethereal beings, running around with the humans at all their biggest happenings. You were always there, I couldn’t seem to shake you, and it wasn’t long before I truly didn’t want to. It was comforting, you know. Just… just knowing there was someone else down here who… I don’t know, understood.”

Aziraphale had had human friends in his long life, of course, and very dear little things they were. But there was no use pretending it was ever the same. It couldn’t have been, those fragile creatures who lived and died in the blink of an eye.

Not like Crowley. Steadfast, stalwart, fickle and ever-changing Crowley, who shed his look like he shed his skin and yet was always exactly the same underneath. And when Aziraphale needed him, really needed a chat or a rescue, it was always Crowley who was there.

Aziraphale swallowed. “I started hoping I’d see you around, got worried sometimes when I didn’t. And I know, my dear, I know I behaved simply awfully sometimes, the things I said to you, but— but I do hope you know… it was only ever to play the charade. I never, never counted myself above you. I never thought I was holier—”

“Go on, you know you did.”

“Alright, but only by a matter of definition, and not by character. I don’t know when precisely I began to think of it as love. By the time the word came to mind, the feeling had already been there too long to tell.” Bracing his courage, Aziraphale took Crowley’s free hand in his own. “And I can say it now, too. And I do love you, Crowley. It was devilishly tricky to hide it sometimes, and I do wish I hadn’t hid it so well from you, but there it is.”

Crowley exhaled, cheeks turning a delightful pink that shot straight up into the tips of his ears.

“Well,” he said. “Erm… yeah, it— it’s good to hear.”

The two looked at each other, the silence extending for a long moment between them as though both were bracing for the possible coming retribution of such a declaration. Nothing happened, though. No bolt of vengeful lightning, no uproar from Heaven or Hell, no celestial armies at the door to put an end to such things. All was quiet. All was well. If anything, the world felt… lighter, brighter, more full of hope than Aziraphale had felt in… ever. It was frankly overwhelming. Aziraphale heard himself laugh once, then he was weeping yet again.

“Alright, then,” Crowley said from somewhere beside him, still as patient as the day was long. “Reckon that’s enough for the moment. You should get some rest, angel."

He sniffled and nodded, then froze when Crowley released his hands.

“Wait,” he blurted out. “Don’t… don’t go?”

Crowley stilled beside him. “You want me to stay?”

“Won’t you, dear? I just… I’m feeling a tad… that is… I don’t know what I—”

“It’s alright, angel. Look, why don’t you stretch out on the sofa and I’m going to curl up in the chair. Don’t feel like going back outside anyway. Too bloody cold, ask me.”

It was, as always, absurdly transparent, but Aziraphale was no less grateful for it. He had never really been one for “sleep”, but at the moment he was feeling quite exhausted in a bone-weary way he’d never known before. Both a tremendous weight and an unbelievable lightness battled within him, but the heaviness was starting to win. Aziraphale felt Crowley shift, felt the hands guiding his shoulders down until he was lying on the cozy pillow of the sofa. A blanket fell over him, then hypnotic golden eyes were meeting his.

“Jussst ssssleep for a while,” a soft voice hissed in the most soothing tones to wind through Aziraphale’s heart. “We’ll talk more in the morning. Good night… Azzssssiraphale.”

[reyescarlos]

you and i || a buddie fic

for my yeehaw darling @buckleys-diaz who has a heart bigger than her home state. i’m wishing you the absolute happiest of birthdays! forever grateful the fates decided to let our paths cross. ily 💕💜

word count 4.7k || read on ao3

We can meet in the middle Bodies and souls collide Dance in the moonlight When all the stars align

There are few people Eddie would drive six hours for on a Friday afternoon but with one goal in mind, for one person in particular, the journey— he knew— would be well worth it.

Putting a label on what Buck was to him now was a difficult thing to do. They were exes. They were friends. They were co-workers. But they were so much more than all of that combined. Those titles did not begin to tell the story of what Buck meant to him. But finding the words, let alone saying them out loud was just as futile a task as trying to parse through what he felt each time Buck so much as said his name.

Eddie’s feelings were many and varied and he wasn’t particularly skilled at speaking his mind. But what he could do was show a person what they meant to him and today would be no different.

Six hours behind the wheel was exhausting but it was worth each and every second to see the look on Buck’s as he pulled up to Mysterious Galaxy Bookstore in San Diego.

Buck had stared for a moment up at the shop. A line was starting to form

“You drove us six hours to go to a bookstore? There are so many great ones back in L.A.,” he said, confusion coloring his tone and features.

“True but none of them are doing an in-store signing with Andy Weir today, now are they?”

Eddie had thought Buck short-circuited with the way the man held his breath, jaw slacked, and eyes unblinking for a moment.

“No. No way,” he finally said, tearing his eyes away from Eddie and swiveling back to look at the store. He’d craned his neck a bit closer to the glass, taking notice of the poster in the store's window advertising for Andy’s latest novel.

“Eddie,” he breathed, shaking his head. “Are you serious right now?”

“Like you said, I drove us six hours. Do you think I’m kidding?” he laughed. “Come on, let’s grab a spot in line before it turns into a complete zoo out here.”

Eddie had gone into the backseat and retrieved an item he’d hidden back there this whole time. He came around to where Buck anxiously stood on the sidewalk

“I wish I had my—,” he started to say but stopped short as Eddie held out Buck’s personal copy of The Martian.

“I may or may not have nicked it off you the last time I was over at your place.”

Buck took the book from him and smiled so brightly it made Eddie’s heart ache. To be able to make Buck smile like that even after they called it quits felt like a gift.

“Unbelievable, thank you,” he remarked holding on closely to the well-loved book.

Eddie knew how much he loved it, so much so that Buck had made it a goal to get Eddie hooked on the novel. Buck was a huge fan of Weir’s but had unfortunately missed out on his signing back home due to work. Eddie had happened across an ad online promoting Andy’s new book and had clicked around to see more about it, the author’s name etched into his mind thanks to Buck’s repeated mentions.

Watching Buck get the chance to meet his favorite author and chat briefly was something he would never forget and Eddie knew for a fact that Buck never would either. Eddie had stood off to the side, taking pictures of Buck with the author,  practically beaming with Buck as the writer expressed how happy he was to see Buck’s well-loved copy of his first novel. Buck’s copy had tabs and annotations in the margins. There was no doubt that he’d read the novel repeatedly.

As they leave the store now, Buck’s happiness just seems to roll off of him in waves, the edges of it reaching Eddie until he’s consumed entirely by it as well. It’s something to relish in.

In the car Buck still clings to his books as if they're a lifeline of some kind. Eddie looks at him for a moment, a perfect snapshot of the man he loves reveling in the high of a perfect day before he starts the engine and merges with traffic.

“I still can’t believe you did this for me, Eds,” Buck reveres, staring down at the books in his hands. He opens up to the title page once more where his name is scribbled alongside Andy’s message and signature.

Eddie pulls his gaze back to the road, Buck’s enthusiasm rubbing off on him as he smiles to himself. It does something to his heart to see Buck this happy, moreover to know that he’s the cause of that joy. It’s a comfort to know he’s capable of such a thing.

“I know how bummed you were when you missed his L.A. stop and he’s your favorite. It only seemed right. It was nothing.”

“Wrong. So wrong, Eddie. It’s everything. Thank you,” Buck says as they pull up to a red light.

Eddie takes advantage of this short reprieve to look over at Buck again. He feels that all too familiar twinge in his heart that he always does when he stares into Buck’s eyes for even a second too long. All those feelings he tries so hard to stifle live so close to the surface. Eddie feels like it’s a full-time job trying to keep them at bay. Times like this really put him to the test, especially when he can see something mirrored back in Buck’s expression. If he was a braver man, he would ask but fear is a worthy adversary and Eddie is left with no other option than to concede defeat.

He offers up a small smile before pressing his foot against the pedal the moment the light turns green. It serves as the perfect break to the trance.

“I will get you to read The Martian one day, if it’s the last thing I do,” Buck jokingly warns.

“I’ll watch the movie and we’ll call it even.”

Buck scoffs and falls silent again. Eddie can hear the rustling of the book’s pages as Buck combs through it once again. The ease to which they’ve always been able to move around each other is something that Eddie will never grow tired of. Considering the fact that they’re no longer together, he’s even more grateful for the fact that they’ve been able to maintain a close relationship.

Far too often Eddie is wracked with guilt and doubt over his decision to end things. They hadn’t even been official long before he broke them up. He had surrendered to fear and succumbed to the voice in the back of his head that told him he wasn’t good enough, that he would inevitably find a way to screw things up. He felt Buck deserved better and had decided to set him free.

It’s a moment in his life that Eddie revisits constantly. He remembers with stunning clarity the way Buck’s face had fallen when Eddie had him over that night to talk. Eddie had been selfishly glad when Buck said he wanted to remain friends. He wasn’t sure how that would work or if it was simply Buck trying to ease the tension but it’s been a few months now and they’re still so tight-knit. Eddie knows how lucky he is for it, that so many people in his shoes would simply just miss out on maintaining any connection to their ex.

Eddie never wants to lose this. He isn’t sure how he’d be expected to carry on if he didn’t, at the very least, have Buck in his corner as a friend. But he also knows that he will always long for what they had. It might not have lasted long but the feelings they both had were quite real and serious. They’d had a solid friendship before getting together, one built on love and trust. It made dating seem like the only logical next step but Eddie had retreated.

He tries not to think about that now. Dwelling on his missteps never leads to anything good. He opts to focus instead on the fact that he’s still able to bring a smile to Buck’s face and do something special for him.

Eddie has only been driving for about thirty minutes when smoke begins to billow from the hood. He turns on his indicator, pulling over onto the side of the road.

“Just great,” he mutters as he kills the engine, unbuckling his seatbelt and exiting the car. He heads to the front and unlatches the hood, fanning the smoke away from his face as he peers inside.

Buck is right beside him seconds later, trying to gauge what’s the matter. Eddie leaves him to investigate; between the two of them, Buck is the more mechanical one. Eddie watches with furrowed brows as Buck pokes around for a bit, tracking a bead of sweat as it races down the side of Buck’s neck and disappears into the collar of his shirt. Eddie quickly shifts his focus. The priority right now is tending to his vehicle, not getting distracted by his ex. It’s far easier said than done as Buck stands back and wipes at his brow. He looks particularly rugged, his fitted t-shirt hugging his frame just so. It’s enough to make Eddie’s throat feel dry.

Eddie reins himself back in, all too glad when Buck speaks so that his thoughts can get back on track.

“I’m sorry, Eddie. I think we’re going to have to call this one in,” he says with a sigh. “Looks to me like you’ve got a cracked cylinder.”

Eddie purses his lips but nods, taking his phone out of his pocket and pulling up the number for a local car service. He explains the situation they’re in to the man on the phone who assures him that he’ll get a tow truck out to their location as quickly as possible.

“And now we wait,” he says to Buck, heading back to the car to take a seat.

Buck is grinning as he settles back into the passenger seat.

“And I know just how you can kill the time,” he replies, holding up his tattered copy of The Martian.

Eddie jokingly groans but takes the novel from a smug Buck before turning to the first page. The opening line couldn’t be more accurate to how he feels about being stuck on the side of the road with an ex-boyfriend he’s still very much in love with:

I’m pretty much fucked.

He steals a glance at Buck but quickly sees there’s no reason for him to try and be covert. Buck is already engulfed by his new book. Eddie can’t help but to silently observe him, taking notice of the way Buck’s whole demeanor changes when he’s relaxed and zeroed in on the task of reading. It’s such a familiar expression and once again, it makes Eddie feel wistful for their relationship. How many nights had he spent in bed beside Buck, nose in a book swearing that he just needed to finish off a chapter before turning off the light? It’d always been endearing to see Buck in his element, soaking up as much from a story as he could before calling it a night.

If Eddie could go back in time and stop himself from ending things, he would in a heartbeat. At times Eddie would get the crazy idea in mind that he should just tell Buck he’s made a mistake, that he wants for them to try again. But to do so would be to disrupt the balance they’ve been able to find and maintain for themselves.

He can’t risk that nor would he place Buck in the awkward position of being put on the spot. This was Eddie’s error and he has already resigned himself to the fact that he’ll just have to live with the consequences of his decision.

They sit in a silence so comfortable for so long that Eddie has made significant progress on the book by the time their tow truck arrives. Buck’s copy is so dog-eared and well-worn that Eddie has to use a random receipt from the center console to mark his place. Buck reluctantly sets aside his new book, careful to put it back inside of the bookstore bag to keep it protected before hopping out.

Eddie climbs out of the car yet again too and greets the mechanic. The man gives the engine the onceover and confirms Buck’s theory.

“Can you fix it here?” Eddie asks. They’re hours behind schedule and the last thing he wants is to be delayed any further by having to go down to the shop.

“No, ‘fraid not. I can take it in overnight and let you know in the morning or early afternoon.”

Eddie blows out a breath and runs an impatient hand through his hair but Buck doesn’t seem bothered by the sudden change in plans at all.

“Is there somewhere nearby that we can crash for the night?” he asks.

“There’s a motel just up the road there. I can drop you fellas off and give you a call tomorrow when your car’s ready,” the mechanic says.

“Works for me,” Buck replies with an indifferent shrug. “I like a good adventure.”

That was one of the things Eddie had grown to love most about Buck. His optimism could almost be blind but it meant he chose to see good in people and situations. That was a trait Eddie would always respect. Looking on the bright side wasn’t always easy for him but with Buck, he had learned how to let the light in. That kind of thing left its mark on a person and Eddie’s life hasn’t been the same, in the best ways imaginable. But holding on to good wasn’t a skill Eddie had ever truly mastered, even when he had someone so perfect for him right within his grasp.

He fights the thought from lingering now. He’s spent the last few months falling down that spiral and it’s yet to assuage him of the regret he feels.

Instead, he follows after Buck to the car to grab their stuff before piling into the cab of the tow truck.

This evening isn’t going at all like Eddie envisioned; the last thing he pictured for either of them was being smushed in the front section of a tow truck or having to stay overnight in San Diego. But life, he knew better than most, seldom went according to plan. What mattered most was that this day was still special for Buck and wasn’t overshadowed by the sudden turn of events.

The mechanic drops them off at the motel and Eddie trades contact information with him before thanking him and parting ways.

“Do you think we should have called ahead to make sure they even have rooms available?” Eddie asks, suddenly realizing the gamble they are taking.

“Maybe but I’m sure it’ll be fine. If they don’t have any vacancies, we can always try somewhere else. Come on.”

Eddie nods and follows Buck inside. As far as off the road motels go, this one isn’t too sketchy which comes as a mild comfort to Eddie. Their night is already feeling like some kind of parody.

He marches to the receptionist counter where a middle aged man is writing something down on a notepad.

“Hi, excuse me,” Eddie greets. “Would you happen to have any rooms available for the night?”

The man looks up and glances between Eddie and Buck. “For you two?”

Eddie stands up a bit straighter. “Yes.”

“Lucky you; I’ve only got one free one left. Everything else is booked up solid.”

Eddie sighs in relief. “That’s perfect. We’ll take it.”

He hands over his card for the man to charge before taking it back and the key he hands to him for their room. Eddie leads them both over to their room, toying with the motel keychain attached. It’s silly to feel nervous when he’s spent so much time around Buck but he hadn’t been planning on spending the night with him like this. The plan was to just drive straight through, maybe trade off if he felt tired and let Buck bring them back to Los Angeles. Nowhere on the itinerary did he expect to be sharing a room with his ex.

Eddie opens the door to the room once they arrive and falters for a moment. He retraces his conversation with the receptionist, suddenly realizing he hadn’t been clear in seeing if the room had two beds. When the man asked if they would be sharing the space, Eddie realizes now that the clerk hadn’t been prying or being standoffish. He must have assumed that Eddie and Buck were a couple who wouldn’t have any qualms about sharing a bed.

He steps further inside and drops his bag down on the floor at the foot of the bed, staring at it as if it’s something he has to decode. He then looks to Buck to see if he’s just as taken aback as he is but he can’t detect any unease or discomfort at the situation they’ve now found themselves in. They haven’t shared a bed in months, not since they broke up and Eddie doesn’t know if this is pushing boundaries.

“I can take the floor or see if they can bring up a cot or something.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t bite you know,” Buck teases. But Eddie’s face heats up thinking about all the times that wasn’t true when they both got carried away in bed. Buck must realize the inaccuracy same as Eddie because he laughs and says, “Well, not always, anyway.”

Eddie laughs in spite of himself and shakes his head, stuffing his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

“Alright. If you’re cool with it then I am, too.”

Buck smiles reassuringly at him before setting his duffle bag on top of the bed and scrounging around for a change of clothes. He manages to find something and Eddie lets out a breath when Buck takes his findings to the bathroom to get changed for bed.

This is going to be a long night, Eddie thinks to himself as he follows Buck’s lead and grabs a change of clothes for himself. He makes quick work of swapping out his jeans for pajama bottoms. As he’s tugging down his new t-shirt he hears a small creaking sound of a door to the left of him.

“Sorry,” Buck mumbles where he stands frozen in the doorway of the bathroom, pulling his gaze away from Eddie’s frame.

Eddie stays in place, rooted to his spot as well. “You’re fine.”

He wonders at how long Buck may have been standing there but he casts the thought aside. It’s ridiculous to think that he could have still have that effect on Buck. What they had was over and done with. It didn’t matter if his heart still wanted Buck, if every part of him still longed for his ex. He wouldn’t drag Buck back when they already agreed to move forward.

Buck taps his fingers soundlessly against his thigh before he joins Eddie in the main space of the room.

There’s an odd energy between them now, living in the silence that cloaks the room. Eddie can feel the weight of it pressing against him but he has to wonder if it’s just all in his head.

“We should get some sleep. With luck we’ll be able to get out of here early,” he says with a small yawn.

It’s been an extremely long day of driving all the way up from L.A. and the thought of closing his eyes and getting decent rest sounds appealing. But once again he looks at the bed they’re going to have to share and suddenly his fatigue dissipates.

“You’re right, yeah.”

Buck braves climbing into bed first, taking a spot on the left side of the mattress, his usual place in bed. Just the familiarity of that makes Eddie feel nervous but to dawdle would be to raise suspicion and the last thing he wants is to make Buck feel as if he can’t be around him.

Eddie shuts off the bedside light as he lays on top the covers. His mind is a storm sending his thoughts crashing around his head. It’s all so loud and disorienting, so much so that all Eddie can do is stare up ahead at the darkened ceiling above him and wait for it to pass.

He doesn't hear the usual soft sounds of Buck’s breathing, the telltale sign that sleep has found him. He knows what this means, that beside him Buck is wide awake too. He wonders about what Buck could be thinking of. A part of him— all of him, truthfully— is hoping that Buck is awake now for the same reasons he is. There’s so much on the tip of his tongue that’s been trying to come out. But for months now, Eddie has been able to hide it safely behind friendly smiles. It’s been taking its toll though and now, laying beside Buck, being close enough to feel the warmth of his body, it feels like he only has seconds left on the clock before this little game is over.

“Are you awake?” Buck asks.

Eddie sits up a bit and turns on the lamp before shifting to see Buck.

“What’s on your mind?”

Buck turns his head to look at him. All Eddie can do is stare silently, studying the features he’s long since grown accustomed to. It’s how he knows there’s a hesitancy in Buck’s eyes, that there’s something he wants to say but isn’t sure how to.

“I’m just thinking about how awesome today has been.”

“You mean car trouble and impromptu overnight stay aside?”

Buck laughs softly. “Maybe even more because of it. I actually wasn’t ready to go back home yet. I really like having this time with you.”

Buck holds his gaze and Eddie’s traitorous heart beats faster at the implication of these words.

“Yeah, me too. I wanted today to be special. You deserve that. I’m glad you had a good time.”

Buck opens his mouth to speak but just sighs instead, casting his gaze downward to where Eddie’s hand rests in the small space between them. Eddie holds his breath to see what his ex will do, silently praying for some kind of contact, some kind of sign that Buck wants to get closer too. Eddie knows he can’t be alone in feeling this pull.

Silently Buck places his hand over Eddie’s and gives it a soft, barely there squeeze.

“It means more to me than I think you’ll ever know. The fact that you went out of your way like that...I don’t know. I’m just lucky to have you,” Buck says. “I mean, as a friend. I’m uh, I’m really...um, grateful.”

Buck frowns a bit to himself and it’s obvious to Eddie that there’s more Buck wants to say. If Buck could be brave enough to breach the conversation that’s apparently long overdue, Eddie knows he can be too and take the baton from Buck and continue this race.

“Friends, right.”

Eddie clears his throat and braces himself for what he’s about to say. Jumping in headfirst is terrifying but if it leads to complete transparency and the chance at speaking honestly, Eddie decides it’s more than worth it.

“I don’t think we’ve ever really gone back to being friends. At least I know I haven’t, not completely. You know, sometimes I’d think it’d be easier if I could just move on from this. But I know how lucky I was. I don’t ever want to forget what we had or how it felt to be loved by you,” Eddie says boldly, cutting right to the chase.

The weight of the truth off his chest is an instant relief though, quickly in its place, comes the worry that he’s said too much too soon. With him it always seems to be all or nothing, one extreme or the other. But Eddie feels that he’s been quiet for too long about this as it is. These last few months have been torture with the true nature of his feelings eating away at him. Now isn’t the time to cower anymore.

There’s something about being out of Los Angeles and miles away from home that makes him feel brave, as if he and Buck are somehow on a different plane of existence. Whatever is spoken now is truly just between the two of them now. There isn’t any concern of anyone coming along and interrupting. True to form, with Buck he can be his full self. He can be candid and vulnerable with him in a way he would never even dream of letting his guard down around anyone else.

“Past tense,” Buck notes quietly. “You say that as if I’m somehow over you.”

This comment catches Eddie off guard and he knows it must show in his face from the way Buck smiles at him.

“Are you really surprised by that? I didn’t want us to break up. I just respected the fact that you weren’t ready just yet. That didn’t mean I stopped caring about you in that way. I could never.”

“I’m sorry I got scared,” Eddie says, intertwining their fingers and pulling Buck’s hand to his chest.

Buck shakes his head. “You don’t have to apologize; I’ve never been upset with you. It’s okay. We’re okay.”

Eddie cups Buck’s face with his free hand, watching the way his stunning blue eyes drift closed, lashes casting shadows on the apples of his cheeks. Another snapshot from this already perfect day: the sight of Buck in what could only be described as bliss from his touch. Eddie takes in Buck’s expression, the softness of his face, the openness and trust being expressed here.

In a word, it’s perfect. And in this moment, it’s his.

Eddie leans in tentatively and Buck’s eyes open once again, tracking Eddie’s movement, his lips parting in anticipation. Eddie breathes him in as he closes the distance, allowing himself to free fall right into this kiss.

He strokes Buck’s cheek with the pad of his thumb, tracing the contours of his face like a sculptor. This moment is a masterpiece and Eddie wants to give it the time and care that it rightfully deserves.

Buck matches his pace, his mouth roving over Eddie’s with such ease. This is nothing new to them and yet in some capacity this feels different. Second chances don’t come around often too often for Eddie but this time around, he’s certain he can get it right. These last few months without this level of access to Buck had been trying. So many weeks stretched out before him, each day fading a memory of what he once had.

Kissing Buck now is like breathing new life into him. The void that had taken up residency in the center of him is being filled with each touch, each soft sound leaving Buck and being entrusted with him. Eddie kisses him back deeply, letting go of all those fears that plagued him before, that he would somehow turn out to be the opposite of what Buck wanted. This man was very clearly choosing him, and has deemed him worth the time it took to wait for Eddie to finally accept a good thing that was being presented to him.

Now that they’ve crossed this threshold, there’s no turning back and that’s precisely how Eddie wants it.

Eddie pulls away to draw in a clean breath after a few moments, his chest heaving. Buck’s face is flushed, his lips slightly swollen and upturned in an almost embarrassed smile but Eddie doesn’t think he has any reason to be bashful. He leans in once more and places a gentle kiss on Buck’s lips, feeling the smile wipe away as Buck grows serious and wraps his arms around Eddie, holding him tightly.

This day has turned into something he couldn’t have ever seen coming but Eddie knows one thing to be true:

The safest place he could ever dwell is right here in Buck’s heart.