#confessions and heartbreak

[stevebabey]

not if it’s you.

word count: 7k summary: After the events at Starcourt Mall, you have a hard time convincing Steve that he’s allowed to be not okay. You want to take care of him. And if you harbour some more-than-friends feelings at the same time? Well, that’s nobody’s business but yours. [angst + hurt/comfort + friends to lovers]

You’re bone-deep tired.

The red and blue lights of the ambulance feel branded onto the inside of your eyelids, there even when your tired eyes slide shut. The cool metal on the ambulance door soothes your forehead and for a moment, head tilted against it, you could honestly just sleep even with all the noise.

It’s been a hell of a night.

You blink. You need to keep yourself awake, you’re not home yet. Gazing blankly across the crowded parking lot, reporters and townspeople milling between the yellow police tape, you can feel your brain begin to try to grapple with all the events of the night.

It’s like some warped horror flick of memories, parts of the film blacked out that you can’t quite recall. The elevator, the Russians, and some god-awful melted monster of people — even in your mind the image makes you shudder.

The longer you think about it, the more it feels like the stress is fusing with your bones, attaching itself to every cell in your body. It makes you shake, a forceful twitch of your head to put all the thoughts to rest.

Process it later. Make sure you can stay stitched together physically tonight. You must look a tad loony from the outside, twitching and shaking, but considering your night it’s more than warranted.

The gash on your arm is the worst of your injuries. A jagged stretch of torn skin that was gifted by one of the Russian soldiers who had hoped it would loosen your tongue. And when that didn’t work, the pliers nearly had — you would’ve told them anything when they took them out and lined it up with one of your fingernails.

But Steve then had done something stupid — kicked to get a guard’s attention since his yelling obviously hadn’t made a difference, let one of them lean down real close, and then headbutted him with all his might.

Relief had shocked your system, some broken cry as you slumped over when the pliers moved away. Fingers saved, if only briefly.

It had all turned to dread when they had lugged him out of his chair, preparing for round two of questioning. You had felt it then, a twisted gurgle of emotion lurched up your throat — violent enough it might have made you sick if you had managed to open your mouth. You hadn’t. There was a chance you would’ve said something worse, some jumble of feelings that wouldn’t have helped.

So, you had bit your tongue. Tasted blood and pretended that closing your eyes meant you couldn’t hear Steve pleading in the room over.

He hasn’t said much since the two of you had been sat in the back of the ambulance, gloved hands of the paramedics roaming over skin to find and treat injuries. There’s just one guy left now, still hovering around Steve with a flashlight and treating him with much less care than you’d like.

Steve looks as tired as you feel and when he can’t focus enough to look ahead, the paramedic prods his cheek unkindly. Steve winces.

“Hey,” you snip, cutting into the interaction. “Are you done? Can we go home?”

The paramedic turns the flashlight on you, blinding you for a moment. It confirms your asshole hypothesis of his character and you cringe at the brightness. It’s gone in the next moment, finally clicked off. He observes you both for another moment before an annoyed drawl comes out.

“Yeah, scram. But first you,” He jabs a finger at Steve who blinks but doesn’t react. “Lots of rest. No big brain work, no alcohol, and don’t run any marathons or anything.”

Steve nods, then grimaces at the pain the movement causes. You can’t help the wrinkle in your brow as you watch - you startle a bit when the paramedic turns his pointed finger on you.

“And you. His pupils are still dilated so keep an eye for seizure symptoms. Wake him every couple of hours and get a CT scan tomorrow.”

Some part of you is perturbed that he’s put you in charge of taking care of Steve. Another part gleans and blushes because you’d accepted the task the moment he’d asked, without question.

“Tomorrow?” You ask hotly, at the same time Steve says, “I’ll be fine on my own.”

The paramedic shakes his head, tsking as if you’re bothersome school-children not patients, and steps back with his hands raised. “Figure it out, I don’t care. I’ve got a dozen other people to check over.”

He winds around the door of the ambulance and leaves the both of you alone. A cool wind skirts through the parking lot, ruffling your hair. A sigh wrestles out your chest, a pathetic attempt to alleviate the tightness in your chest.

You don’t think you’ve ever hated the colours blue and red more than right now. The blazing colours atop police cars that flood the parking lot, the colours of Steve’s Scoops uniform, the colour of blood seeping into your pale blue shirt.

If you squint, you can see your own car parked alongside Steve’s in the distance — it feels like a lifetime ago when you had driven in and parked up. Your keys are lost down, down below you, taken in the interrogation. You stand to shake off that train of thought. 

You turn back and offer your hand out to Steve. After all the blows he’s taken tonight, you desperately want to offer him kindness. Offer him a touch that doesn’t hurt, doesn’t make him flinch or wince. Steve stares at your hand for a long moment, eyes contemplating — and then puts his in yours.

He lets you pull him to his feet.

One of the police cruisers takes you to Loch Nora, Steve and you tucked away in the backseat. His hand is still in yours, barely holding it in his tiredness; when the car rounds a corner though, you can feel his fingers clench tighter so your hand doesn’t slip away.

They detach eventually when the wheels roll up on the curb outside Steve’s house, late in the night. Like the rest of the sleeping houses, the lights are all off. There are no cars in the driveway. The loneliness of it yawns out down the drive, like visible smoke plumes that escape every window.

Steve somehow looks tenser at seeing it; he still forces himself out of the car, bloody sneakers scraping against the gravel. You follow. It aches to move too much, even just shuffling out of the car feels like moving a mountain. The door clips closed quietly behind you. You hear the engine fade back down the road.

Steve is still stuck in place — you have a feeling he’s not looking at the house at all but stuck in thought, looking through the timber and paint and seeing all the horrors of the night. You step up beside him and gingerly reattach your hands.

It seems to surprise him, jumping ever so slightly at the touch and turning to look at you. “I didn’t...”

I didn’t think you’d stay. The sentence dies in his throat, a little embarrassed by how relieved he is that you’ve stayed with him - so much it shows in the quiver in his voice. Steve doesn’t finish it because then you’ll hear the other part of the sentence, even without him saying it. No one stays.

“C’mon,” you urge him to walk with you, beginning to drift up the driveway.

There’s no rush, you’ll wait as long as he needs to before moving, but it’s colder out tonight. Maybe it just feels that way with all your tiredness, the frostiness nipping at your skin. All your energy is focused on staying on your feet, on helping Steve. There’s none left to keep you warm.

He ambles after you like walking is an afterthought and following you is the priority. His sneakers drag, soft scraping noises with every step. You can feel his gaze burning into the back of your head, his fingers squeezing as if he’s checking you’re really still here with him.

The front door is unlocked and it’s only when it snicks shut behind you, do you wonder if you’ve overstepped. It’s awkward, but only a bit. You’ve been in Steve’s house before — though, who hadn’t with all his parties in sophomore year?

But not quite like this. Not just the two of you, and never holding his hand.

The events that had transpired last fall in Hawkins had thrown Steve into your life, along with a dizzying revelation of new dimensions and an unsettling truth about monsters that came right out of your nightmares.

Though, maybe it made more sense to say you were thrown into Steve’s life. You had always known of him - he couldn’t say the same about you.

Like the hoards, freshmen you had not been immune to the boyishly good looks and charismatic nature of Steve Harrington. Once upon a time, before someone called him King Steve and it stuck, there had been a crush.

But like red wine on white linen, with time — and plenty of distance — it had faded.

Not even the adventure that bound you two together, the tunnels that snaked beneath Hawkins and your shaky hands lugging him into the car, had been enough to reignite old affections. Not his insistence on you leaving the tunnels first, not even the way he clutched you when you all made it out. Not unscathed, but alive.

Pitifully, it had been his shoddy attempts at flirting in his ridiculous sailor uniform to kick-start your heart back up.

You had sighed, chin in hand, and leaned into the foolish feelings — because going crazy over a boy felt the most normal thing you could do. And after demodogs and slithering vines kept creeping from the past into your slumbers, normal was all you wanted.

But Steve needed you as a friend, more so considering his fallout with Tommy H and Carol had become permanent. He flirted with customers, every girl you’d recognised from your year, but never you.

It felt a good enough reason to bite your tongue. Keep him close, but never as close as you’d like.

But now you’ve done it again — been pulled along on another adventure that’s brimming with terrors that will take years to forget.

Everything feels worse this time round, a decay that ebbs away your hope. It’s somehow harder to heal from wounds that come from evil, but not the supernatural. It’s all the heavier when the boy who holds your heart made himself a punching bag so you didn’t get hurt. 

The warmth of his hand, squeezing for only a moment, brings you back to the present. To now, still standing in the entryway to Steve’s house. You blink, coming back to yourself, and turn back to him. There’s a crinkle between his brow, and worry washed across his features.

“Are you okay?” He asks it tentatively like he’s afraid to spook you. It sends a rush to your system, a pleasant throb in your chest. You can’t deny you like knowing he worries. That he cares.

“Yeah,” you croak out, nodding as you speak. “Do you— I mean, you don’t mind me staying, do you?” 

Suddenly, the potential embarrassment of inviting yourself in, even with the good intentions of taking care of Steve, is overwhelming. The next words tumble out without thought.

“I just, I don’t want to be alone right now.” It’s a bit hurried, tinged with nervousness. You stammer. “And I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

Something like pure affection blooms in Steve’s chest at your words, the heat of it stealing his breath and pain for just a moment. It’s a different sort of ache in between his ribs, something white-hot and pure.

He hadn’t been able to voice his relief when you’d gotten out of the car and stayed with him — and it fails him now at your admittance.

You don’t want to be alone. You don’t want him to be alone.

Steve doesn’t think he’s deserving of your good will, nor the kindness in every touch. He can’t help how he consumes it greedily, drinks in the touches like he knows it’ll be taken from him soon enough. His eyes stay fixed on you.

There’s something so alluring about your silhouette, the golden street light let in through slits in the door. It halos you, soft amber that softens every curve. You’re enchanting, even when bloodied.

Steve’s not sure his heart has felt like this before — so molten hot, valves working overtime, ribbons of affection tied tight across his chest. He’s sure they’ll leave scorch marks, testimonies to his bleeding heart that pulses with each beat for you, for you, for you.

Because you’re still here and something in his trodden on heart perks up before he remembers to crush it. It’s not that Steve has never thought of you as more — god, the mere thought of you as more to him.

More than a friend, more than this, it’s enough to make his head spin. To make his hands shake and return a nervousness to his system he hasn’t felt since sophomore year when he first laid eyes on Nancy Wheeler.

But you’re not Nancy. In the best way, that makes all the difference,

You were some breath of fresh air, bursting into his life in all the middle of his estranged drawn out break-up with Nancy — brash in all the right ways, kind when he needed, and far too soft to be tangled up in any of this mess.

You’re still too soft for it now, and it shows in the jagged cut torn into the fabric of your skin — it doesn’t matter how it happened, Steve still feels like it’s his fault. It’ll scar, red puckered skin that twists down the expanse of your shoulder. A living reminder of the night burned into you to carry forever.  

It hurts Steve maybe more than he’s warranted to. You’re both just friends.

But when Steve thinks of how he’s accidentally pulled you too close, put you first in the heart, it aches evermore.

He’s not sure when you went from barely a friend to this — you’re a crush, an Achilles heel, the unattainable from the moment he met you, the moment he knew you. Steve feels like he’s been building himself towards you, pushing his growth to aim for anywhere near enough for you. You’ve been too good for him from the start.

It doesn’t stop him from loving you.

Steve realises after a moment that he hasn’t said anything when your fingers start to slip from his. His grip tightens to keep your hand in his.

“No, I— Stay. I...” It’s a struggle to say it, too many years of suppressing any urge to ask for comfort. “I don’t want to be alone, either. Or for you to be. Stay.”

Your lips, chapped and still with a hint of blood, twitch into somewhat a smile. “Okay.”

This time it’s Steve who drags you along, both slowly moving up the stairs. Each step threatens to reopen the scabs that have only just begun to form. It’s like some micro-dose of torture, Steve thinks, hearing your winces behind him.

The fluorescence of the bathroom lights is bright enough to make your eyes fly shut. Steve’s braver, taking only a moment to pause. He ignores how the lights dance, a sickening comparison to his experience with the drugs that had barely left his system. Though it’s the last thing he wants, Steve drops your hand to begin his search.

When your eyes blink open, prepared to face the lights, you’re a bit perplexed to see Steve hunting through the linen cupboard. He produces a towel, white and fluffy.

You cringe internally at the thought of sullying the pale colour with blood but it’s but a blip in tonight’s problems. Besides, the Harrington’s could certainly afford to replace it.

“Here.” Steve murmurs. You both seem to have agreed to keep softly spoken for the night.

He presses the cotton into your hands as he walks, ready to shoulder out and take care of himself. There was an en-suite in his own room — and sure, it would hurt like hell rinsing his wounds but he’d done it last year. Blasted the heat so he was wincing at the burn atop his skin and not the ache underneath it. 

“Steve?” You question, turning and halting his feet. He pauses, confused by the questioning expression on your face. He gestures to the shower, hiding how the movement makes his ribs sting painfully.

“You can shower here and- and the guest room’s all made up.” The words trip a bit on the way out, weakness beginning to weigh on his voice.

Somehow being back home crumbles his walls sooner than he’d like. Tonight has been heavy, a burden that lies thick on his shoulders and creeps down, taking root in his muscles.

But Steve will do what he had done last year; take the punches, burn them off in the heat of the shower — hot enough that he can’t feel any tears — and then deal with it.

“No, s’not that.” You shake your head, a strand of hair coming loose. “I... What about you?”

What about all the blood? The bruises and cuts? You’d seen the scars littered on the skin of his face from Billy, cuts that had healed wrong and left marred skin. Wounds left uncared for, only healed with time.

The question only begs more confusion from Steve. He gestures to somewhere behind him as he says, “There’s another shower, don’t worry.”

He pulls a smile to ease you. It wobbles at the ends of his mouth. Something claws into your heart, a profound heartache at the thought it doesn’t even occur to Steve to take care of himself.

“Steve,” you begin, beginning to get a sense of the wall you’re encountering.

Steve Harrington has some very thick defenses and not without good reason; they’ve got him through some treacherous times. Even now, he uses it like a crutch, a seal to hide away horrid memories. Ignored in favour of temporary strength. 

You don’t need his display of strength — you’re not one of the kids that needs to be shielded from the reality that even Steve has a breaking point — certainly not when his state is far worse than your own.

But you have a feeling he doesn’t know how to switch it off. Steve doesn’t seem to understand what you mean when you say you don’t want him to be alone. 

“Steve, you’re not okay.”

“I’m- I’ve done this before, alright?” He insists, eyes darting between yours, features turning stonier. You can see his defensiveness begin to curl his shoulders in. “I’m alright, I promise.”

“Are you?” You say, not unkind. “Tonight was— Steve, you were tortured.”

The effect of your words is instantaneous. Steve’s face falters, his icy expression dissolving with a shudder he can’t stop. You watch it warp him painfully, jaw clenching and eyes misty; he blinks furiously to clear them. You continue.

“You can’t just- just bounce back from that. Nobody can.” You shake your head as if it proves your point. “It doesn’t matter if you’ve done this before, this— this is a lot for anyone, even—”

“Well then, why are you still here, huh!” His words interrupt your own, tone angrier than you’re expecting. “If this is so much!”

His chest rises and falls quickly, brows draw together like it hurts to breathe so harshly. The words don’t sting, but his tone does. You reel in your hurt and focus past his anger, focus on what it really is.

A final line of defense. A ploy to make you upset or angry, to make you emotional enough to storm out and leave him to lick his wounds alone. Another way to ignore it, compartmentalize what happened instead of facing it head on.

Maybe it’s cruel of you to make him deal with it so soon. But you care, too much to pretend to ignore his pain. 

“Steve.”

“Don’t.” It wobbles, voice weak. His anger has already drained away in a moment.

“You’re not alright,” you insist, voice barely above a whisper. “C’mere.”

You don’t give him a choice, your free hand reaching out to snag his own, which hangs loose at his side.

Steve stumbles forward as you tug him back into the bathroom. Without his anger, he’s pliant and goes without protest. Your gentle fingers on his chest nudge him in the direction of the sink, the cool porcelain pressing through the back of his soiled Scoops top.

“Can you do something for me? Can you...” You bite your already bloody lip, nervousness sketched across your features.

How can you say this without giving too much away? It feels too intimate, like flying too close to the sun, well within the realm of potentially hurting your own feelings. You’ll do it for him gladly. 

“Can you just...let me take care of you?”

It hurts like a sucker punch to the gut. Like a breath has been forced out of his chest, because when was the last time someone has asked him that?

Silence stains the air.

“It won’t be pretty.” He croaks finally, still giving you an easy out. Still prepared to spare you the ugliness of his emotions.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” You respond, lips twitching. You bare your heart and half hope he sees it — sees it and knows he’s loved when you say, “Not if it’s you.”

Another beat of quiet.

“Okay.” Steve breathes, so faintly you barely hear it. Then as if you’ll rescind the offer any moment, he nods fervently.

Your smile is genuine, maybe the first in hours and something in you relaxes. He won’t fight you on this. He may have taken the beating earlier for you but, at the very least, you can do your best to patch him back up — let your hidden feelings translate into a gentleness he so very deserves.

It takes only a quick rummage beneath the sink to find a first-aid kit. It feels wildly underprepared; an afterthought purchase once upon a time that was only ever intended for scraped knees. It hasn’t ever been opened. The tear of the zipper is the only noise in the bathroom, bouncing off the tiles.

As expected, there’s not much in it. It contains a box of plasters in multiple sizes, one roll of gauze, a bottle of antiseptic, and a mixture of other pills and eye drops.

Some loose safety pins rattle around in the bottom as you take inventory. It’s not stellar and you’re no doctor, but it’ll do. It has to do.

When you finally look up, wondering where to begin on his injuries, Steve is regarding you with a look you can’t quite name.

If you were sure of yourself, you might call it awe.

You tell yourself it’s because you’re here, helping him, and it can be awfully easy to mix up feelings when you’re getting stitched up. You don’t let your hopes rise, not even for a moment.

Steve’s blood sings, ears rushing with the sound of it when you step closer. You’re so damn close. Steve can’t ignore the scent that carries with you, his brain involuntarily committing each detail of you that he can get to memory - lest he never gets you this close again.

You want to take care of him; Steve thinks this might be a dream.

Nimble fingers work to gather some cotton with antiseptic and then you’re holding it up, posed, and ready to mend.

“Can you sit up on the counter?” You ask, all sweetness. Steve obliges easily, despite the protests from his sore body that cries out as he shifts up. You smile, then warn, “This might sting.”

It’s overwhelming as you step closer, between his legs, and take the cotton to his face with a gentleness Steve hasn’t felt in years. His eyes close instinctively.

It does sting. The wince leaks out through his clenched teeth, soothed instantly by your soft apologies that pour out like honey.

For a moment, it’s easier this way; with his eyes closed, Steve can pretend this is usual. That when he gets roughed around, there’s someone to tend and clean his wounds — instead of just himself and the harsh rinse of the hot shower.

He tries and fails not to think of last year, his poor attempts to patch himself up. Hands too shaky, touch too rough.

The memory bites. The injuries of tonight somehow feel worse. A tinge of bile taints his mouth and Steve swallows it back down, concentrating on you.

You’re not quite humming but soothing noises, low and soft, come from your throat. Steve’s not even sure you know you’re doing it. His hands clench emptily as his side — the split knuckles make them hurt and when you’re this close, the itch to hold you is near unbearable.

It doesn’t take long for the first cotton pad to turn a violent shade of pink. Steve’s face looks a tad clearer than before but uncovering old blood means finding new wounds.

Your stomach burns pitifully as you take them all in. There are too many to count, a thousand different hues — broken blood vessels that run in all directions, little labyrinths under his skin.

Why does it hurt so much? Even with your bound shoulder that still sends out pain with every motion, it all dulls away when you look at Steve. Lashes fluttering, eyes still closed, marred with wounds you’re begging to ease. You know it hurts so much because you care.

Love is pain, you suppose, with only a twinge of bitterness. It’s swallowed instantly, consumed and disintegrated by the fact you get this. The boy you love, between both palms, trusting you to take care of him.

A year ago, you’d met only the steely exterior he’d put up — and thought it had simply been remnants of King Steve. Maybe Steve Harrington was as much of an asshole as half the town said.

He was all bite, glowers, and clipped answers. With time though, he’d softened like snow melting in the sun; all the parts of him trickling into your life until he was cemented by your side. 

He hadn’t even let you patch him up after the scrap with Billy that had taken him out. You hadn’t felt you could ask.

But this time...your throat grows a bit thicker at the trust that binds the pair of you. Affection rushes your system and forces a sharp inhale from your lungs. You step back.

The space makes it easier to breathe. Dials down the chances of pressing your lips against his skin — if only to give him a mark born of love. Hands searching through the first-aid kit again, you produce some painkillers and locate an arnica pill.

You give yourself one more moment; inhale and withhold the tidal wave of devotion that begs to spill from within you.

“Take these, please.” You say quietly, uncurling one of his fists to press the pills into. He swallows them dry.

You prep more cotton and begin again with the gentle touches, coaxing off dried blood. This time, Steve’s eyes stay open. He watches you, an unreadable emotion in his eyes.

You work away the blood from a cut above his eyebrow and when it’s clean, your thumb follows. You caress along the broken skin as if you could meld it back together with pure will.

Steve’s chest grows tight. Something about you being here, taking care of him makes the night’s memories all too present. Nausea sways in his gut. It’s impossible to shove them to the back, to press them down, when it feels like each cut is being reopened. Cleansed with a douse of love.

You’re altering the history of each wound but to do so, he has to recall how each of them was carved into his skin. It hurts. Why are you still here?

Steve’s head pulls back unexpectedly, eyes shuttering closed in a scrunched expression. You startle a bit.

“Shit, I’m sorry — too harsh?”

He makes a strained noise, effectively gutting you with it. If you weren’t so close — an inch further and you could press your forehead to his — you wouldn’t hear it. Hear the tiny whisper that scratches out the word, “Why?”

“What?” You whisper. You don’t understand.

“Why...Why are you...?” He’s clearly struggling to find the words he wants. His hand reaches up, fingers brushing the bridge of his nose before he drops it again. His chin quivers. It stops your heart for a moment to realise he’s crying.

“I don’t— I don’t understand.” Steve grinds the words out, voice thick. A tear splatters, seeping into the blue of his uniform. He won’t look at you, eyes trained on the loose thread on his shorts.

“Steve?” you murmur, wary and heavy with concern. This is— you don’t know what this is.

“I don’t understand.” He repeats, shaking his head slightly. He seems to choke on the next words. “You’re still here. Why are you...? Everybody...”

He trails off, some whimper of sorts forcing its way out his throat. You’re stuck, absorbing each of his words and putting together the pattern that Steve can’t seem to voice. I don’t understand. You’re still here. Why are you...? Everybody... Everybody leaves. 

Oh.

Rich King Steve who’s got it all. The house, the car, and any girl he fancies, all of them fawning for a look from him at one of his legendary parties.

His lack of parental supervision had been lusted over in high school, furious whispers of envy over the fact he could get away with parties every weekend. That booze went missing and he never seemed to catch any shit for it. It occurs to you now that nobody was around to notice.

The absence in his life is vast and suddenly blindingly obvious — a chasm in his chest that is bleeding all his secrets to you.

Steve Harrington is lonely.

When you surge forward, injuries be damned, and your arms loop around his neck, there’s a moment of stillness. You can feel the tension in his muscles, hear his ragged inhale, and then— he sags into you, finally, finally letting himself lean on someone else.

His arms wind around your middle in a desperate motion, tugging you closer and the fabric of your shirt clenches between his fingers. His face buries in your neck and hot wet tears soak the collar of your shirt. You can hear his raspy noises, soft cries as he clings to you like a lifeline.

“Why did this happen to me?”

It fucking hurts to hear. You don’t know how to tell him there’s no why — that there is no reason that can justify why he’s gone through this much suffering. Just the bitter fact that, sometimes, bad things happen to good people.

“Steve,” you feel like you’re saying his name an awful lot tonight. You say it because you can’t begin to think of how to answer his heartbreaking question. “I—“

“I-I used to think,” The words are muffled into your neck. His grip on you is nearly tight enough to hurt but you don’t dare relent any space. His voice is barely above a whisper, just loud enough to hear. “That- that it was like karma, yanno?”

“Steve, no,” you whisper, horrified. If he hears you, he doesn’t show. 

“B-Because that first time,” He’s stuck on some belittling ramble about himself, continuing between his sniffs. “I definitely deserved it. But then I grew and I changed.”

Something twists painfully in your stomach.

“And then last year, it made sense, yeah? Billy, he was— a real piece of work.” He sniffs again, his voice a little harder at the mention of the deceased.

The tension falls away at the next sentence, voice wobbling through the thickness in his throat. “And I used to be like that, so—“

You pull back instantly, hands shifting back from around his neck. It effectively halts him, and whatever he was saying dies in his throat. Your hands move to cradle his jaw and, as lightly as you can with his injuries, you tug him from his hiding place and stare him in the face.

Steve’s eyes look bigger and browner full of tears. His nose is red, just the tip, and runs messily at the onslaught of tears. Pink splotches bloom underneath his cheeks, patchy and warm, his face etched in complete misery.

It wrecks you to see. More so to think he’s been shouldering all this alone since ‘83.

“People don’t deserve suffering, Steve.” You state it strongly enough that he can’t refute the truth, punctuating with your thumbs on either cheek, pressing light touches.

“You don’t deserve suffering. You never did.” Your voice quivers a bit, some shred of your heart shriveling pathetically at the fact you even need to tell him this. Your hands shake ever-so-slightly. A hot tear streaks down your cheek.

Steve crumbles. You don’t resist when he drops his head down, only move back in— offering a place to hide away again. You let him stay hidden away, a sanctuary in your arms, safe when he’s buried in the curve of your neck.

“And- and just ‘cause,” you say, sniffling a bit now. He holds his breath, a sharp inhale that quietens his whimpering crying. “Just ‘cause no one has stayed before doesn’t mean you don’t deserve this, Steve.”

His fingers press harsher into your back and your feet stumble a bit, pulled off balance. Adjusting your arms, you pull him tighter yet, hoping that the closeness will make all your sentiments seep in. Your shoulder aches terribly; you don’t dare move away.

“You know that, right?” You whisper, unable to stop your fingers from grazing the nape of his neck softly. “You deserve to be taken care of.”

A soft kiss to the side of his head, barely noticeable between his shakes, but it eases the strain on your heart. Time wanes and melts beneath the glow of the bathroom lights, an unending amount of tears that you suspect reach back further than just the memories of tonight.

You stay like this, holding him close. You give him all the time he needs, sweet nothings mumbled until he feels strong enough to face you— to face the world.

Eventually, Steve’s breathing slows, crying turning to trembling gasps. When he finally does retreat, you curse internally because of course, only Steve Harrington can still look devastatingly beautiful after crying.

Tears cling to his lashes, sparkling reflections. He wipes his nose on the back of his hand.

Silence ebbs. Steve gathers himself, another sniff, and wipes his nose before he lifts his head. You can see in his face the moment he’s about to apologise; the word sorry is about to come tripping out his mouth. You beat him to it.

“I’m sorry to inspire more tears,” Your voice, still quiet, aims for a comforting jest. “But I’m not quite done cleaning you up.”

You twist the cotton between your fingers to show him. Steve blinks, eyes focusing on your hand, perhaps surprised you’re still taking care of him. He forgets about his needless apologies. 

“Though, your tears did a lot of the work.” You say cheekily, a smile teasing at the edges of your lips. It makes him huff a laugh. Steve could nearly cry again; you’re so nice. He thinks about the last time cried, thinks about Tommy’s sneer, his scoffed words that told him toughen up, King Steve.

He lets you wipe them away, clear his face and patch it up as best you can. Any tension from before, the mental barb-wire defenses he had still held up to keep you out, has ebbed away. It’s softer now, easier between you two.

Trust flows from Steve in the form of his allowance, letting you fuss. It flows from you in the form of your touch, which still dances too close for just friends. You let your fingers dot the kisses across his face since you can’t.  

“You’re good at this,” Steve murmurs, breaking the silence. He allows himself the privilege of your touch, his fingers burning where they graze your sides.

Patching people up? Injuries from last year made sure you got decent practice on yourself. You’re decent, you’ll admit.

Maybe he means taking care of him. You’re proving to be very good at that. 

You want to. Somewhere rooted in feelings that sway closer to love, genuine love, is the urge to be the one who does it. The shoulder to cry on, the one who carries his woes when it gets too much — and you want him to do the same for you. Achingly, you want to take care of him; and him, you.

The thought burns so viciously through your chest, you sink your teeth into your bottom lip a bit meanly. It stings.

You don’t notice it, trying to rein in your drifting heart that sings to be closer to him, but Steve does. His fingers twitch; he wants to rescue it, pull it from your harsh grip with his thumb.

He does.

You stop moving.

His thumb is calloused, a bit rough against the supple plumpness of your bottom lip. The blood beneath it tingles, gloriously hot at the attention. Either all the air in the room has been sucked out or you’ve stopped breathing.

You’d hazard a guess it’s the second, given the stillness your body has taken on. Muscles locked, eyes frozen on his face — the only part of you that moves is your heart, thundering pumps going far too fast.

Steve’s gaze stays on his thumb on your lip. You’re desperate to find out what to call the emotion swimming in his eyes.

“Steve?” you say his name yet again, lips moving against his thumb. He blinks like a frog, one eye after the other, and drags his gaze up to your eyes.

His hand shifts, brushing across your mouth to hold the side of your jaw, cupping it sweetly. The cotton falls from your grip as Steve urges you closer with a gentle tug.

Then his eyes are back on your lips and even though it feels like slicing your own heart open to do it, you speak before he can kiss you.

“Please don’t,” you whisper, eyes crushing closed.

You want to terribly. The want for his kiss warbles from deep within you, a yawning ache. But it might just finish you off if it’s all heat of the moment — a kiss that is just some twisted thank-you because Steve isn’t used to being taken care of.

You clear your throat, swallowing heavily. “Not— not if it’s just for tonight. Not just because I stayed, please.”

There’s a pause. His shaky exhale breezes across your face. It’s possible your ears might be ringing as if straining to hear the sound of Steve’s heart— dying for a clue to what he’s feeling. You’re not brave enough to open your eyes and read it in his face.

His thumb scrapes across your bottom lip again and then— then, he kisses you, impossibly tender.

The tiny gasp that escapes you is consumed instantly, swallowed up by Steve’s kiss. He kisses gentle, touch so soft that it has you searching for more the moment you’ve got a taste of it.

You barely get a moment to lean into it, to kiss him back before Steve breaks it. He hovers close, close enough that you could steal another taste of his lips if you wanted. You want to— the ferocity of your eagerness sends a shiver along your spine. He speaks before you seize the opportunity.

“I want to.” He says, voice a bit raspy and the words inspire enough bravery to look at him, eyes creasing open. “I- I’ve wanted to for a while.”

You nearly sink in your relief, knees trembling for a moment as your hand comes up to enclose the wrist of the hand that holds your face. Thumb sweeping short strokes, you clutch the tan skin and lean into his caress.

“You mean it?” You whisper, far too excited. Your heart may as well be on your sleeve, cards once played close to your chest now splayed on the table. Your tone reveals all, spilling with hope, even as you ask whether it means the same to him as it does to you.

Yes. The word seems stuck in his throat, suddenly too thick to speak. Because it’s only three letters and that can’t possibly cover what Steve means when he says I’ve wanted to for a while.

That you’d somehow snuck into his life and intertwined among all of his heartstrings, like spun gold mixing until the whole organ felt terribly tangled in a way he’d never want to change.

Nancy had given him the thump of his head.

But you? You were the thump on his heart. Not a push for change, nor for growth — but permission to grant himself a second chance in love.

“I mean it.” He says, emotion coating each word. “Yes, god, I really mean it.”

And you let him tell you over and over again with his mouth pressed to yours, searing kisses that make your head dizzy and pulse speed.

Steve knows he’s not alright — not physically or mentally after what he’s faced tonight, not with the vice grip on his chest that had clung tightly and all the ugly parts of him had all slithered out for you to see.

He also knows that he will be alright, sometime in the far future.

When wounds have healed, when scars are beginning to fade, and the nightmares start being every couple of nights, instead of every night, then he’ll be nearly okay. It’ll take time, lots of it.

But when your gentle hands coax him to bed and you slip beneath the covers beside him, leaving a warm quick kiss upon his shoulder — Steve thinks that, maybe, that future isn’t nearly as far away as it seems.

Your hand finds his under the sheets, twisting your fingers together to act like an anchor in the inkiness of the night.

There are no nightmares that night.

—

tags below! @hawkinsindiana @harringtonbf @spideystevie​ look technically there’s no tags this is just all da bitches i’m always talking to <3

[edwinas]

Heartbreak High | 2.08 Boys Don't Cry

Thank you for being my first love. Thank you for still loving me even when I fucked up.

[iremiari]

charles rowland is the type of person to end his marriage vows with "and you're my best mate" then think nothing of it

[killerpancakeburger]

Angtsy Ghoap x Reader with a happy ending

Insecure!Reader who fell for Soap first, and fast. They don't think they have a chance with him, but pining is harmless, right?

Then they start crushing on Ghost. Have to go full denial about it because they feel bad liking two people at the same time.

Soap and Ghost are already together, but Ghost notices that Soap's has a soft spot for the Reader. So he starts paying attention to them more and ends up interested too.

Cue Ghost having a masterplan to add the Reader to their relationship (cause he's the one with the braincells lmao). He makes Soap leaves his sketchbook in the rec room, knowing Reader is the kind of person who will bring it back to him thinking he forgot it.

Except that when Reader enters Soap's bedroom, they stumble upon Soap draped over Ghost because he was being needy. Reader freezes before fleeing the room with an hasty apology, Johnny's sketchbook dropped on the floor. Obviously those two are a couple and you were so stupid to crush over Soap in the first place.

Ghost and Soap track you down to explain, but not before Ghost called Soap a bloody idiot. It is Ghost's fault too for keeping Soap out of the loop tbh.

[gilligans-islands]

God okay I just finished watching good omens 2 and I just

Something that really kills me is during the confession scene after Aziraphale says “Nothing last forever” Crowley puts back on his glasses

And it’s such a thing to do because they were just having this raw open and vulnerable conversation and you can see everything in Crowley eyes and then he decides deliberately to put up a shield

And it’s such a pivotal moment because throughout this whole season Crowley is always taking his glasses off around Aziraphale or even just when he’s in the bookshop

He’s letting his guard down in a sense and letting Aziraphale see past the shades into who he actually is and it’s so heartbreaking to see Aziraphales words sink in and the implicit meaning he finds in them

He immediately puts his shields back up and adopts a more monotone way of speaking all to hide how much this is hurting him

[small-z24]

One-Shot: Shattered Heart Part II 

Summary: 

Y/N and Azriel continue to struggle with their unspoken love and the heartbreak it brings. As Azriel distances himself further, Y/N makes a decision that could change everything. Will they ever find their way back to each other, or are they destined to remain broken and alone?

I wrote this for @vanserrasimp who requested a part 2.

Word Count: 1504

Warnings: Intense heartbreak, emotional distress

Y/N:

Days turned into weeks, and Y/N felt the weight of Azriel's absence more acutely with each passing moment. She had hoped that time would dull the pain, but instead, it sharpened it, making every interaction, every shared space in the House of Wind a reminder of what she had lost—or rather, what she had never truly had.

She threw herself into training, hoping the physical exertion would exhaust her enough to numb her emotions. But even in the heat of battle practice, her mind wandered to Azriel. She saw him everywhere—in the shadows that danced at the edge of her vision, in the quiet moments when she thought she was alone, in the lingering silence that filled the spaces where his laughter used to be.

One evening, after a particularly grueling training session, Y/N found herself alone in the training room. She collapsed onto the floor, her body aching and her mind a whirlwind of turmoil. She stared at the ceiling, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill.

"Why can't I let him go?" she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. "Why can't I move on?"

The room remained silent, offering no answers. She closed her eyes, letting the tears fall freely. She thought about Azriel—about the way he had stood outside her room that night, about the pain in his eyes, about the words that had remained unspoken between them.

She knew she couldn't continue like this. The pain was consuming her, eating away at her spirit. She needed to make a decision, to find a way to move forward. She couldn't keep living in this limbo, caught between hope and despair.

With a heavy heart, she made her way to her room. She sat at her desk, pulling out a piece of parchment and a quill. Her hand trembled as she began to write, pouring her heart and soul into the letter.

Azriel,

I don't know if you'll ever read this, but I need to say it, to put it into words so that I can finally let go. I have loved you for so long, longer than I can even remember. I thought that maybe, one day, you might see me the way I see you. But I was wrong.

Watching you with Elain, seeing the way you look at her—it's tearing me apart. I can't keep pretending that I'm okay, that I'm strong enough to handle it. The truth is, I'm not. I'm breaking, Azriel, and I don't know how to fix it.

I need to move on, to find a way to heal. And I can't do that if I'm here, surrounded by memories of you. So, I've decided to leave Velaris. I don't know where I'll go, but I need to find a place where I can rebuild my heart, piece by piece.

I wish you all the happiness in the world, Azriel. You deserve it, even if it's not with me. Please, don't come after me. This is something I need to do for myself.

Goodbye, Azriel. I will always love you, but I need to let you go.

Y/N

She sealed the letter with trembling hands, placing it on her bed. She packed a small bag with essentials, her heart heavy with each item she added. She took one last look around her room, her sanctuary, and then she left, the door closing behind her with a finality that echoed through her soul.

As she walked through the quiet streets of Velaris, she felt a sense of freedom mixed with a profound sadness. She was leaving behind everything she had ever known, but she knew it was the only way to heal.

Azriel:

Azriel stood in the training room, his fists clenched at his sides. He had pushed himself harder than ever before, trying to drown out the thoughts that haunted him. But no matter how hard he fought, he couldn't escape the pain in his heart.

He thought about Y/N constantly—about her laughter, her strength, the way her eyes lit up when she smiled. He missed her more than he could bear, but the fear of hurting her kept him from reaching out.

Cassian's words echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of what he had lost. "You don't have to be perfect to love someone, Az. And Y/N doesn’t need perfect. She needs you." But he couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't enough, that he would only bring her pain.

He walked to Y/N's room, his heart heavy with regret. He had stood outside her door so many times, wanting to knock, wanting to hold her and tell her everything. But he had always walked away, too afraid to face his feelings.

Tonight, he couldn't stay away. He needed to see her, to tell her how he felt, even if it was too late. He reached for the door, his hand trembling as he knocked softly.

There was no answer. He knocked again, louder this time, but the room remained silent. Panic began to set in as he pushed the door open, stepping inside.

The room was empty, the bed neatly made. His eyes landed on the letter, and his heart stopped. He picked it up with shaking hands, his eyes scanning the words.

Each sentence was a knife to his heart. He read her words, feeling the depth of her pain, the love she had carried for so long. And as he reached the end, a sob tore from his throat.

She was gone. He had pushed her away, and now she was gone.

He sank to his knees, clutching the letter to his chest. The shadows around him pulsed with his anguish, but they offered no comfort. He had lost her, and it was his own fault.

I need to find her. The thought was a lifeline, a desperate hope that he clung to. He couldn't let her go, not without a fight.

He stood, his resolve hardening. He would find her, no matter where she had gone. He would make things right, even if it took him the rest of his life.

With a final glance around the empty room, he turned and left, the letter still clutched in his hand. He didn't know where to start, but he knew he couldn't give up. Not now, not ever.

Y/N:

Y/N stood on the edge of the cliff, the wind whipping through her hair as she looked out over the sea. She had traveled for days, seeking solace in the quiet places far from Velaris. But no matter where she went, the pain followed her, a constant shadow.

She had thought that leaving would help her heal, but it had only made the ache more acute. She missed Azriel with every fiber of her being, missed the way his presence had brought her comfort, even in the darkest times.

She closed her eyes, letting the tears fall freely. She had tried to be strong, tried to move on, but the love she felt for him was a part of her, woven into her very soul.

As she stood there, she heard a voice behind her, soft and filled with pain. "Y/N."

She turned, her heart skipping a beat as she saw Azriel standing there, his eyes filled with a mix of desperation and hope.

"Azriel," she whispered, her voice breaking.

He took a step forward, his eyes never leaving hers. "I couldn't let you go. I can't lose you, Y/N. Not like this."

Tears streamed down her face as she shook her head. "You don't understand, Azriel. I've loved you for so long, and it's killing me. I can't keep pretending that I'm okay."

He reached for her, his hand trembling as he cupped her cheek. "I know, Y/N. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for everything. But I can't lose you. I love you. I've always loved you."

Her heart ached at his words, the truth she had longed to hear. But the pain was still there, a deep wound that wouldn't heal. "Azriel, it's too late. I'm broken, and I don't know how to fix it."

He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. "Then we'll fix it together. Please, Y/N. Don't leave me. I need you. We need each other."

She clung to him, her sobs shaking her body. She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that they could find a way to heal. But the pain was still there, a constant reminder of the love that had nearly destroyed her.

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, they knew that the road ahead would be long and difficult. But for the first time, they had hope—hope that they could find a way to heal, to rebuild the shattered pieces of their hearts.

And as the sun set over the sea, casting a golden glow over the world, they took the first step on that journey, together.

[helluvahotmess]

'I want you to continue to be who you are.' what if i fucking died what then

[todorokis-girl]

That's really not what I meant - Kuroo Tetsurō (pt 1)

Hey 🌸

Summary: Our protagonist struggles with unrequited love for her childhood friend and team captain, Kuroo Tetsuro. With the support of her twin brother Kenma and their teammates, she faces the challenge of moving on and finding happiness beyond her crush. This story is filled with high school drama, emotional moments, and the strong bonds of friendship and team spirit. 💖🏐

(part 2)

masterlist

"You're drooling," my brother remarked, his eyes glued to the screen, the distinctive music of his game continuing uninterrupted.

“I am not,” I retorted, though my voice lacked conviction. 

“You are,” came a voice from the opposite side of me, the familiar tone of the libero, Yaku, unmistakable.

“Yaku!” I exclaimed, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. To add insult to injury, they were probably right. I had the most annoying crush on the team captain, Kuroo Tetsurou, a childhood friend who had grown from an awkward boy into an undeniably attractive and charismatic leader. Watching him command the court with such confidence and skill was mesmerizing.

I sighed deeply, resigning myself to the teasing. "Fine, maybe I was," I admitted, rolling my eyes as I stood up. I grabbed a water bottle and a towel to hand to the captain as he walked back from the court for the break. My heart thudded in my chest as I approached him, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance.

“Good job, captain,” I said, trying to keep my composure as I handed him the bottle and the towel.

Kuroo’s eyes lit up with a mischievous glint. “Thanks, miss manager,” he replied, taking the items from me. His fingers brushed mine ever so slightly, sending a jolt of electricity through my body. I rummaged in my waist bag and pulled out a band-aid, noticing a small scrape on his finger.

“You scraped your finger earlier,” I pointed out, trying to sound as professional as possible. “If you don’t put a band-aid on it, it’ll be bad. We can’t have our middle blocker out of commission.”

Kuroo chuckled softly, a sound that made my heart flutter. “Thanks for looking out for me,” he said, his eyes twinkling with appreciation.

I watched as he carefully applied the band-aid, my mind wandering back to the countless memories we had shared. Growing up, Kuroo had always been there for me, whether it was to bandage a scraped knee or offer a comforting hug when things got tough. Now, seeing him in his element, leading the team with such passion, only made my feelings for him grow stronger.

As the break ended and the players returned to the court, I found myself lost in thought, my eyes trailing after Kuroo. The way he moved, the way he commanded the court, it was all so captivating. I shook my head, trying to focus on my duties as the team manager, but my mind kept drifting back to him.

Yaku’s voice broke through my reverie. “You know, you’re not very subtle,” he teased, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

I groaned inwardly, knowing he was right. “I know, I know,” I admitted, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration.

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?” Yaku suggested, his tone surprisingly gentle.

I looked at him, wide-eyed. “Are you crazy? What if it ruins everything? It’s a lifetime of friendship! Not to mention that if I ruin it with Tetsu, Ken will definitely kill me and then forget I exist.”

Yaku shrugged. “Or it could make everything better. You won’t know unless you try. I just can’t see Kuroo not being your friend at the end of it, no matter what his response is. At the very least, I know he loves you—friend or girlfriend, I don’t know.”

I mulled over his words, my gaze drifting back to Kuroo. Maybe Yaku was right. Maybe it was time to take a chance. But for now, I’d continue to support Kuroo from the sidelines, hoping that one day, I’d find the courage to tell him how I truly felt.

When the last whistle of the day rang, signaling the end of practice, I started packing up the team’s equipment, handing items to Fukunaga, who was assigned to place them in storage. The atmosphere in the gym was winding down, players joking and chatting as they headed to the locker rooms.

“Ken, you have 20 minutes to get ready. I want to get started on dinner early,” I called out to my brother. He waved me off without turning around, his focus already shifting back to his game. It seemed video games provided all the sustenance he needed these days.

As I gathered the remaining items, I couldn't help but steal glances at Kuroo. He was talking to Kai and Yamamoto, his face animated as he recounted some play from the practice. His presence was magnetic, drawing me in despite my best efforts to stay composed. I sighed, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

Yaku's words echoed in my mind. Maybe it was time to take a chance, to risk everything for the possibility of something more. The thought terrified me, but the idea of never knowing was even worse. I finished packing up and handed the last of the equipment to Fukunaga, my mind still racing. I could feel Fukunaga’s eyes on me, and I ignored him. I REALLY needed to get better at hiding how I feel.

Walking over to the edge of the court, I took a deep breath and leaned against the wall, watching as Kuroo and the others made their way to the locker rooms. Kuroo glanced back and caught my eye, offering a smile that made my heart skip a beat. I returned the smile, my resolve strengthening.

Later, as the team dispersed and the gym quieted down, I found myself lingering, my thoughts still in turmoil. The familiar routine of managing the team's needs provided some comfort, but it also underscored how intertwined my life had become with Kuroo. I couldn't imagine a day without seeing him, without feeling his presence nearby.

“I’m done, let’s go,” Kenma said, startling me out of my thoughts. He stood there with his gym and school bag over his shoulders.

I nodded and looked past him to see Kuroo still hanging out. “He’s staying past practice today. Says he has a date.”

“Oh,” I swallowed thickly and nodded, opening the gym doors to allow Kenma to head out first.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice unusually gentle.

“I’m perfectly fine, Ken,” I replied, forcing a smile. My heart felt heavy, and I could feel the sting of tears threatening to spill over, but I kept them at bay.

The walk home was quiet, the silence filled only by the sound of our footsteps. Kenma was lost in his thoughts, probably planning his next gaming strategy, while I struggled to keep my emotions in check. The idea of Kuroo on a date with someone else gnawed at me, a painful reminder of the feelings I had kept hidden for so long.

As we reached our house, Kenma headed straight to his room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I started preparing dinner, the repetitive motions of chopping vegetables and stirring pots providing a small measure of comfort. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake the image of Kuroo with someone else, laughing and smiling the way he did with me.

By the time dinner was ready, I had managed to push my emotions to the back of my mind, focusing instead on the task at hand. Kenma joined me at the table, and he seemed to sense something was wrong with my mood “You’re not ok” 

“I’m fine, Ken.”

“Y/N, we’ve known each other our entire lives, we’re twins for a reason. Don’t gaslight me into thinking I don’t know you.” He stared at me, almost reading my soul, forcing me to speak.

“Were you teasing me, or was he actually going on a date?” Kenma rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone, taking a second to play around with it. Then, he showed me the screen on his smartphone.

It was a picture of Kuroo at some flowery local café shop, wearing one of his button-ups. Next to him was a familiar face. She sits next to us in class. How did I not notice… “Is that…”

“Yes, it is.” I let out a sigh and turned back to my food, deciding to finish the conversation, the weight of Kenma’s eyes on me trying to convince me to waver. “She asked him out during lunch break last week. She was very smart in timing it just as you left to the bathroom.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“It wasn’t for me to tell.” I sniffled and cleared my throat, looking back up at him. I didn’t think my heart could’ve broken any louder.

“I think… maybe it’s time to move on. I can’t stay in this space forever. All I’m doing is breaking my own heart.”

Kenma reached across the table, placing a hand on mine. “You deserve to be happy, Y/N. Sometimes things don’t work out the way we want them to, but that doesn’t mean it’s the end. It just means there’s something else out there for you.”

I nodded, appreciating his words even though they couldn’t fully mend the ache in my chest. “Thanks, Ken. I just need some time.”

“Take all the time you need,” he said softly. “Just remember, I’m here for you.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. I went through the motions of cleaning up and getting ready for bed, my mind a storm of emotions. As I lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, I couldn’t help but think about what Kenma had said, almost competing with what Yaku had said earlier that day. Maybe it was time to let go of my feelings for Kuroo, to stop torturing myself with what-ifs and maybes, IF all I had to do what tell him how I felt, I was too late anyway. 

But moving on was easier said than done. Kuroo had been a part of my life for so long, and the thought of not feeling this way about him was almost unfathomable. Yet, I knew that holding onto these unspoken feelings was only hurting me more.

As I drifted off to sleep, I made a promise to myself. Tomorrow, I would start the process of moving on. I would focus on myself, my friends, and the things that made me happy outside of Kuroo. It was time to heal and to find a new path forward, even if it meant letting go of the dream I’d held onto for so long.

(part 2)

[beesgav]

replaced my headphones recently and my new ones are fully noise-cancelling, which I am very much still getting used to

[hotcheetogirlluver]

can you please do one where reader can be stoic and emotionless like she's a tsundere (she's hard and rough on the outside but once you get to know her her sweeter bubbly side shows later on) and Levi has the fastest crush on her. her trauma she went through when she was younger makes her oblivious to when people genuinely have a crush on her because she oversees that. she shows her soft side as she befriends him and him being nervous around her hurts her feelings really badly. she just breaks and returns to being expressionless, rough, and quiet. Levi starts to feel guilty when she doesn't smile at him anymore or when she ignores him and doesn't speak to him. her friends are pretty worried blah, blah, blah. finally he apologizes after weeks of not speaking but she's fighting it because of her insecurities and trauma. LOTS OF ANGST I BEG YOU 😭😭😭!! and ofc fluff at the end 🤧🥺💗 (sorry it's super long have a beautiful day and I hope you can make this!)

A/N: ofc!!! i love this idea POOKS! Im a sucker for angst too honestly 😭😭. but I will gladly do this story and just a warning it is very long. ENJOY, THOUGH!!💓

Summary: Levi has a huge crush on (Y/n). She's completely oblivious, and sees his 'flirting' as cruelly bullying her. One day she's in his office casually talking to him and since he gets awkward with her because of the fat crush he has, he hurts her feelings in a way no one has ever hurt her.

WARNINGS ⚠️ : swear words, talks of disorders, talks of molestation and uses word rape

s/t: skin tone

h/c: hair color

y/n: your name

e/c: eye color

-!!ANGST!! FLUFF!!-

__________________________________________________________

Levi looked over at (Y/n). She was speaking with some cadets, giving them tips on fighting and dueling and such. Dressed in her usual black cloak with a hood over her head.

His usual stoic face looking over his shoulder to stare at her. If only she didn't wear that stupid cloak every single day and maybe it would be easier to catch a glance at her face.

The cadets looked like they respected her.. Listening in closely and trying to focus on every single word she was saying to them.

“Captain Levi?” A male voice made him turn around and stare the person down who just caught his attention.

“What is it?” His voice dripping in slight annoyance made Eren sweat nervously.

“You looked sort of a trance there! Just making sure you're still alive, sir!” Levi's glare only hardened and Eren slowly stepped away from him.

“Go spar with Armin. You both need the practice. You must be bored if you came over here just to bother me.” Eren nodded rapidly.

“Right away, Captain!” He took off and Levi looked back at (Y/n).

“You're doing it completely wrong, cadet. Straighten your stance as if you're prepared to fight someone right now.” She was way more sweeter than he was. Recently she's started to show her soft side and it always sent a warm shot through his heart.

Of course he would never show it, his usual unimpressed mask on at all times. He watched as Sasha corrected her fighting stance.

“Like this (Y/n)?” (Y/n) nodded with a cute smile and sent her a thumbs up.

“Way better!” She praised with a small clapping of her hands.

“Can we eat now?! I’m dying to eat I haven't eaten in like 30 minutes! When's the next break?? I'm literally starving to death-” A strong kick was directed to Sasha’s stomach, sending her to the ground roughly.

“OW-” Sasha rubbed her stomach in pain. “You have no concept of the idea of starvation, cadet.” (Y/n) set her hands on her hips.

“Let alone starving to death.”

Levi couldn't help but just watch the scene unfolding in front of him.

… Well that took a different turn. His stoic face, trying to contain the curiosity flowing through his veins at the moment.

… Why the sudden change of attitude? She was sweet and turned bitter in a second's notice. His head tilted upward a bit. His bangs almost hitting his eyes, barely brushing against his eyelashes.

“10 laps, Sasha.”

“B-But Captain!-”

“20 laps.” Sasha groaned internally and got up as (Y/n) eyed her.

“You'd think a lady that small would be more laid back.” Eren muttered watching from afar as well behind Levi.

“Well weight doesn't necessarily matter in the Survey Corps, Eren. It's mainly all about the soldier's intelligence and strength. Just look at you and me. Plus, usually the smaller ones are more aggressive.”

Levi's eyes immediately looked to the side, and his body turned to look at Eren and Armin.

“You two! Go join cadet Sasha on her 20 lap jog.” The two boys looked at each other with shocked facial expressions and Eren sighed heavily.

“If I were you Eren, I'd save my breath for the laps. And word of advice, try not to whisper so loud next time you're talking about someone important.”

“WHAT?! Someone important? Captain Levi, it's all so clear now! You have a big crush on Captain-”

“30 laps.” Levi turned away from Eren and Armin, as the pink flush was beginning to settle on his pale cheeks.

His hard gaze was set on her once again as he turned. Eren shook his head annoyed but still was too intimidated by Levi to not jog the 30 laps.

“The smaller ones really are the most aggressive-”

“Eren stop talking!” Armin cut him off as they began jogging to the field.

(Y/n) wiped some sweat from her forehead.

‘Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to lose the black cloak.’ She began to slip it over her head and threw it on the grass. Levi kept his face as emotionless as he could with the sight in front of him.

She shook her head around a bit trying to let her scalp breath. Her hair was really thin/thick, short/long, wavy/curly/straight. Her skin a s/t, really glowing in the sunlight. Her hair a beautiful h/c. And then there was her eyes..

Shit.

Her eyes were fucking gorgeous.

The color red set on the tips of Levi's ears, watching her being so effortlessly beautiful. He tried pushing the new fluttering feeling he felt to the very bottom pit of his stomach.

Her eyes were big e/c eyes, with dark eyelashes. Long eyelashes.

Fuck.. he's simping.

That's disgusting and shameful. He tried to snap out of it. But..

Suddenly she turned her gaze to him. A small smile on her lips.(Y/n) walked over to him, her heeled boots, she always wore giving her the smallest bit of height.

“Levi!” Her hands were behind her back as she gave him a wider, sweeter smile. Oh no.. was she walking towards him? At least give him some time to think about what he should say?!

“I haven't seen you in a while it's felt like! I've been busy with those stupid non-stop expeditions though. I feel like I would see you more often if you come out of your office more. Not like once every blue moon,” Her head tilted to the side wearing a bright smile on her face. Which was rare.

“Y’know?” She's right. Levi’s been in his office doing paperwork and signing and reading information from all sorts of documents. It's energy draining going through paper after paper and still never meeting an end.

Sometimes very rarely when he would actually leave his office and would see her walking in the castle halls it made his day a tad more bearable to deal with.

But to him it was somewhat a good thing being locked in his office day and night. Recently he's noticed he's starting to hold feelings towards the h/c. Deep feelings. To the point where he gets awkward and nervous fast if she's even around him.

He's been practicing on handling that calmly and coolly though.

“Y-Yeah. Haven't seen you in a while either.”

…… Wow. Just wow Ackerman.

… He wished he could stab himself with the swords he uses to kill Titans with. Seriously Ackerman?! That was painful. Embarrassing. You should walk away now. And leaving this world and existence would probably be for the better too.

(Y/n) scanned Levi's face intensely as his eyes avoided hers.

“Levi, are you okay?” She put a hand on her chin and the other hand set on her hip as she leaned to the side to meet his eyes.

“Fine.” He responded dryly.

Hm.. What's going on with him? He looks.. nervous? Levi? Nervous? Maybe she was getting this wrong. She was terrible at reading people. She always was.

“You took off your cloak.” Levi suddenly said with an awkward cough, and looked at her hair. (Y/n) pushed some hair behind her ear and nodded with a smile. Those rare smiles made Levi’s heart beat against his ribs.

“About time right? It's been so cruelly hot outside these past couple days.” She waved a hand in front of her face jokingly.

“Y-Your hair..”

“My hair?”

“It's not as shitty as I thought it'd look.” Levi said non chanantly.

“Oh.”

“Do you even brush your hair though? It looks messy as hell. Don't have enough time on your hands to brush your hair or something?"

… Ouch. A knife sliced her heart and she just blinked before laughing small, quiet and uncomfortably. Well that definitely stung.

“Well, actually I brush my hair each morning and night before I fall asleep. It's a daily routine I don't intend to skip out on at all.” (Y/n) ran a hand through her hair consciously with an awkward smile on her face replacing the bright one from earlier.

“Is that so?” He replied unamused.

“Mhm!” She nodded her head before turning her head to the side with a light pink tint color covering her cheeks in embarrassment.

“Anyways Captain! I'm going to head back to my office. It.. It was nice seeing you! Mind telling Sasha she’s allowed to take a break when she’s finished with her 20 laps?” (Y/n) turned around not letting Levi respond and walked over to her cloak on the ground throwing it over her head before leaving the training grounds.

His once fast heartbeat slowed down to the normal speed. ‘What the fuck, idiot.’ He told himself. Why did he say that? Why did he say that??

“ ‘It's not as shitty as I thought it'd look.’ ” He mocked himself in a harsh whisper.

“You idiot, why in the world would you say that to her? You made her uncomfortable you fucking dumbass. That's why she was in such a hurry to leave you.” Levi tried to forget about the encounter with (Y/n) he just had, feeling tormented with guilt enough as it is.

‘Just stop being so nervous around her Levi.’ He ran a hand through his under shave.

_________________________________________________________

Meanwhile (Y/n) pulled the cloak's hood closer to her head as she tried to calm her racing heart and her heavy breathing.

Levi thinks her hair is messy.

And he thinks she doesn't brush it? Does he see it as disgusting? Looked like it.

(Y/n) stared at the stone floors as her heeled boots clicked against them. Which means everyone who was at the training grounds earlier saw her hair as disgusting too then.

She closed her eyes for a second and shook her head. Get it together (Y/n). It's fine.

… But what if it isn't? This reminded her of back then..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two grown men held onto (Y/n) wrists on either side of her pretty tightly. It felt like they were cutting her circulation off. She was 6 years old at the time.

Her mother sold her to some sketchy group from the Underground to get some money and to keep her house. (Y/n) had several bruises on her arms and face.

Those cruel bastards. She looked up at the tall man in front of her, with wide eyes.

“This rats nest of hair you got here is fucking gross. It looks like shit. You need to become extra beautiful, gorgeous.” He smirked with a sinister look in his eyes.

He held out a knife and suddenly just cut off half her hair. Her eyes widened more.

W-What? Why did he do that? Why did her mom even sell her to these men? They've hurt her, said horrible things to her, and now this? What's going on?? What are they going to do to her? She trembled in fear, heart about to leap out of her chest as she watched her long locks of hair fall to the dirty ground.

“Perfect, gorgeous.” The man brushed his hand through her hair with that creepy smirk still on his face. Then he nodded at both of the men who were holding her wrists tightly.

“W-Wait! Sir! What are you going to do to me?” He only darkly chuckled and waved a hand to a room.

“You’ll see in a second.” He kicked his lips and tilted the hat he was wearing down some more. The two men at her sides started dragging her to the room.

“W-Wait! Stop! P-Please, let me go! Stop i-it!” (Y/n) kicked her feet and struggled against the tight grip they had on her.

“Sir!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) stared down at her hands. She tried to shake away the memories she just thought of. Truth is.. She wasn't ever raped in the Underground. But… She was molested. And it definitely wasn't just once.

Those disgusting men down there.. Made some part of her life hell. A huge part of her life hell.

Those memories never leave you.

They stick with you.

And (Y/n) still got shivers thinking about it.

‘It's different.’ She told herself. It was the main reason she was insecure, about everything. All of those people from that sketchy group all those years ago.. They caused her pain and misery.

Trauma.

Why does she always wear a cloak? To cover her body from society's eyes. Feeling like she’s fat half the time and feeling like people don't like the sight of fat women. Resulting in not eating for weeks sometimes. Why does she wear a hood? To cover her face and hair. Her hair being “messy” and her face not complimenting her body.

Her hair always made her question her looks. But then again she always questioned her looks. Because of them. Like.. Why does everybody stare at her that way? Why are they looking at her? What's wrong with her?

She clenched her shirt near her heart.

Of course Levi doesn't like her. How could he? He's Humanities Strongest. (Y/n) thought she and Levi were getting close. And then all of a sudden he can't even look her in the eye and he seems more.. nervous around her. But like she said earlier, that word doesn't quite fit him.

They were both distant.

She wasn't going to lie though, at first it was hard to become friends with him. Or anybody really. She’s really antisocial and she too has a stoic, expressionless, mask on at all times. That's how she is with people she doesn't know. And when she didn't have friends.

She didn't mind though. That's how it had been her whole life. She's probably only had 1 friend from her younger years. She can't remember clearly though. When she first joined the Survey Corps no one would talk to her. She understood somewhat though. She did look a little sketchy wearing her black cloak everyday with a literal impassive look on her face all the time.

Made matters worse when she refused to remove her hood.

But when Hange Zoë sat with her one day in the mess hall, (while she stared at her food plainly not planning on eating it) and invited her to sit at their table she stared blankly at her for the longest minute (making Hange sweat drop) but accepted.

But she thought her and Levi were getting close. The awkward short talks turned to long conversations about small things. Both of their emotionless faces, cracked a smile or two when around each other.

She even discovered that way, her crush on him.

(Y/n) enjoyed his presence. She thought he was a good leader, really independent and honestly.. funny.

Maybe it's one sided love though.

Maybe she's just blinded by her stupid crush on him.

Recently he's been really.. mean towards her. He's been insulting her every time she sees him. And it's sort of been a good thing she hasn't seen him in weeks because he's been trapped in his office doing mile high paperwork.

It hurts her heart every time he says something harsh to her. She never says anything back though. But next time maybe she will. He's been hurting her self esteem and bringing back unfondly memories she would rather not think about. She has to stand up to him for once.

Usually she is really blunt. And really, really honest. But with Levi and her friends her soft side is brought out. (Y/n) nodded mentally, realizing her heartbeat slowed down and her heavy breathing calmed down.

She took one last deep breath, before walking to her office for the afternoon. She, too, needs to finish paperwork.

________________________________________________________

Levi sat at his desk. His eyes scanned the writing on the documents he was reading. He was a fast reader.

But he hated every time he would read through essays of information for the Survey Corps, because most of the time it reminded him of the Underground.

Where he didn't even know how to read until later on in his life.

He rubbed a hand on his forehead. Why was he thinking about that now?

He has work to do. It's better if he just finished it all sooner than later.

In Levi’s office it was silent.

His office was a very serene room. He preferred it that way though. It helped him focus more, and if it was placed next to a loud room he would probably kill the neighbor right next to him. He sighed, feeling the smallest amount of loneliness for the past few weeks. Sometimes it was somewhat depressing being so isolated. And feeling so isolated too.

He shook his head.Focus Levi. You're getting off topic.

When he was about to start reading again he heard 2 knocks on his door. He straightened himself out, organized the papers as quickly as he could, and calmed his facial features down.

“State your name and business.” He called.

“It's (Y/n). Mind if I come in, Levi?” Levi’s eyes widened ever so slightly as his pulse skyrocketed.

‘Calm down Levi. Act natural.’

“C-Come in.” He cursed himself as soon as the stutter left his lips.

‘Stop acting so nervous! Your Humanity's Strongest, this is embarrassing.’ (Y/n) brushed off Levi’s stutter, and opened his office door as she walked in with a plate of food.

“What do you need, Captain (Y/n)?”

The awkwardness soon left her features when she heard that. A laugh escaped her lips, as she continued to walk towards him.

“Why are you acting so formal all of a sudden Levi? You know we’ve talked before like friends, not colleagues, right?” She let out a small giggle and a charming smile as she set the plate down on his desk.

“Oh, r-right. Of course.” His cheeks quickly were dusted with a warm pale pink as he coughed an awkward cough to cover up his second noticeable stutter.

“What is this?” He asked unexpressively. He looked down at the plate of food.

“What? Never seen a plate of food before or something? Or has it really been that long since you’ve eaten, Levi?” She sat down in the chair in front of him with a soft sigh.

“I mean come on isn't it obvious?” ‘Isn't it obvious I'm a bit worried for you, you cruel jerk?’ She played with the ends of her cloak in her hands.

Levi knew what a plate of food was. He just hadn't eaten the whole day. He trained the cadets in the morning, and in the afternoon he was locked in his office again. And now it's dinner.. and he's still in his office.

“I haven't seen you eat the whole day. I'm..” Blood traveled to her face as her cheeks began to flush.

“You need to eat Levi. Taking a small break from all this pile of work isn't going to hurt you.” (Y/n) smiled gently and Levi could feel his stomach doing backflips. Or.. it could just be the hunger taking its toll on him.

He felt incredibly grateful he even had someone like (Y/n) in his life. Why did she care for him? Why was she so bubbly towards him? Why did she let her mask fall, after only a couple of conversations in his office?

He never knew how to talk to women correctly though. He didn't know the ‘correct’ way. Did he ever thank them appropriately? He thought he did.

Thing is, he never knows when he truly fucks up.

“Funny thing you're telling me to eat Captain (Y/n), when you don't even eat for weeks yourself.”

“... What?” Her heart dropped.

Another stab to her wounded heart. Her walls were down and everything and he just attacked so easily? She was feeling vulnerable with him and thought this one time there would be no hurtful words directed at her.

… Guess she was wrong.

“I think it's amusing that you're telling me to eat when you don't know how to do that yourself.” Levi rested his elbows on his desk, connecting his hands.

Suddenly a burning flame crawled up her neck as her cheeks burned with embarrassment. Snap out of it, idiot.

“Really, Levi?” She narrowed her eyes, as the humiliation settled in and made her want to sink. Even if it was just the two of them in the office she couldn't help but feel humiliated.

“You don't eat for weeks sometimes. That must be another reason you wear that cloak.” He muttered and eyed her fit. Her eyes widened, and she felt her heart quicken its beat.

What the actual hell?

“You asshole,” (Y/n) whispered harshly.

Levi’s first instinct was to retort back but seeing her fists clenched made him slightly confused. Is she upset?

“Why would you care, if you hate me so much?”

Hate her? Shit. Levi mentally panicked. ‘No, no, no I don't hate you, I could never hate you (Y/n)! Did I mess up? I haven't said anything too bad right?’ Levi ignored the thoughts pouring into his subconscious.

“It's my place to know if you're getting weak and sloppy on expeditions with my squad. You’ve been disorganized on recent expeditions with other squads too. You're supposed to be strong as a Captain. You can't just get weak all of a sudden because of a pointless insecurity to have.” (Y/n) stood up from her seat abruptly.

“Are you fucking serious Levi?! I didn't work my ass off my whole life to just get picked on by the likes of you! You think you have the right to tell me I've gotten weak and to tell me my insecurity is useless?! Why won't you just leave me the fuck alone!” Tears threatened to pour out of her eyes. Her yelling clearly didn't get to him though.

Which pissed her off even more.

She put her shaking hand on her chest and clenched the fabric near her heart.

“Do you think you're so high and almighty just because you're ‘Humanity's Strongest’? Why do you think you can talk about why I wear this cloak so freely? Is your new goal to just break me down as a person and to make me feel even more horrible than I already feel?!” Levi’s eyes widened the slightest. The feeling of guilt catching up with him once again.

He didn't mean those things. He could never mean those things. He just didn't know how to respond when he's near her.

“It's only recently you’ve decided on putting me down! Why?.. Did all those late night talks we both had together mean nothing to you?!”

.. She was met with silence.

(Y/n) shook her head aggressively.

“SAY SOMETHING ACKERMAN!” She slammed a fist down on his desk. His slightly widened eyes, returned to his eyes that looked like they could care less. The unfazed look returned to his features.

“Is that all you know how to do? Yell? Are you slow or something? You should just retire as a Captain, you're childish. You're being overly dramatic about this situation. I couldn't care less about why you wear that cloak. I already understand why. It must be tough hiding all that hair you feel so ashamed of.” Levi kept his voice at the same volume the whole time he spoke.

He felt regret at his choice of words.

‘Stop fucking talking Levi. You're going to lose her. Just stop talking you dumbass!’

Suddenly (Y/n) threw off her cloak. Revealing her body and hair once again. It felt like Levi ignored the image of her body earlier. She looks really thin. Unhealthy thin. His eyebrows furrowed.

“I wear that cloak because of people like you!” Levi looked taken aback.

People like him?

“Judgemental dumbasses like you who can't be nice once for the likes of them!” Wait.. is she.. Did.. Did he make her cry? Is she crying? Tears finally sprung free from her eyes and rolled down (Y/n)’s cheeks as her bottom lip started to quiver. She never cried. Ever. And he's never seen her cry.

“I.. I try so hard for you, Levi! A-And all you see in me is my worst, obviously. I-I love you so much it actually hurts!” A sob escaped her lips and Levi felt blood rush to his face.

She loves him?!

Oh no what the fuck does he do?! Confess?! After everything he just said?? Guilt ran through his bloodstream and he felt his chest tighten.

“.... Why do you hate me? Am I that bad of a person? O-Or just.. ugly?”

‘No! Of course you're not ugly. Your fucking beautiful. The most gorgeous of them all! Levi fucking speak! Say something nice for once you asshole! Confess to her!’ Levi felt himself pause. His heart beating against his ribs. It hurt. The confession was about to slip out of his mouth. Almost..

“Tch. You're clumsy. Careless. And you lack skill.” Her breath got caught in her throat and she felt herself freeze.

Is it possible to feel your heart physically break? Because it felt like for her he smashed it with a hammer, stepped on it with his clean boots, and lit it on fire with a torch.

“And it's not my fault you're anorexic. Anything else Captain (Y/n)?”

She stared ahead.

With widened eyes. Pupils shaking. Her lips slightly parted. Tears still slipping from her eyes. Her stunning eyes. She stood there like that for a moment. A very long moment.

“Nothing..” Her whisper was in a hush. She didn't blink at all as she directed her attention to the floor, turning around.

“Keep the cloak..” She said quietly as she continued walking. Levi’s eyes following her figure. Fuck.

He messed up big time.

The door to his office closing in a slam awoke his senses and brought him back to reality. He ran a hand through his hair. No, no, no.

Why did he say that to her? Why is he such a dick? How could he even look at her again? How could he say that? He shook his head and shut his eyes tightly. Feeling exhaustion weigh down on his shoulders.

He clenched his fists and threw off all the papers from his desk onto the floor. His teeth gritted. He's such a fucking idiot!

Why the fuck did he say that?!? His chest heaved up and down and suddenly his gaze turned to the plate of food she brought him. His heart sank.

“I'm so sorry..” Levi muttered, staring at the food.

Then he looked at the cloak on his polished floors. He walked to it, with heavy eyes. Picking it up, and rubbing the fabric with his thumbs. His knees rested on the floor, as he continued to stare at it.

“I’m sorry..” He closed his eyes tightly, feeling moisture build up in his eyes. He pulled it to his chest, and leaned his upper body down.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..” He muttered over and over again.

The torturous guilt and regret eating him alive.

________________________________________________________

It’s been weeks since Levi and (Y/n) had spoken.

Weeks.

Eyebags lived beneath his eyes, and he felt more tired than he's ever been in his entire life. Erwin was starting to grow concerned for Levi. He knew what happened between him and (Y/n) because Levi told him and Hange.

They tried to break it down as blunt as they could with Levi. Yeah.. The whole thing was practically his fault. Hange freaked out when he told the both of them.

“HUH??! YOU ACTUALLY TOLD HER THAT, LEVI?? (Y/N), MY POOR BABY!” Hange gripped Levi’s shoulders and swung him back and forth while he just let her do that. Erwin tried calming down Hange, it looked like they were about to cry. And kill Levi at the same time. Once Hange had calmed down they sat down on their seat again.

“But seriously Levi? You actually told her that? That's absolutely heartless. You make me want to cry with what you said to her!” Erwin nodded his head at Hange’s words.

“Levi, sounds like all of the things you said to her were unnecessary. She just seemed like she was worried about you.” Levi sighed restlessly. He nodded his head and stared at the ground, remembering her heartbroken face.

“You pushed her away from you, Captain Shortie!”

“I know.. I just don't know how to talk to her.. it should be easy. She told me she loves me.. and I.. I love her. So why was it so hard and why did I have to mess it all up? I don't deserve her… I never did.” Levi felt so ashamed even bringing that encounter back up.

Hange and Erwin looked at each other. They’ve never seen Levi so.. distraught before. He always has this emotionless face on. Seeing him act human for once made Hange and Erwin feel bad about the situation. But there was nothing the both of them could do about it.

Levi sat in his office shaking away the memory of telling Hange and Erwin about that day.

He just wished (Y/n) would smile at him again. For weeks he's been trying to talk to her. Telling the cadets to tell her to report to his office.

She never showed up though.

Figures.

He broke her.

For weeks he's been trying to think of ideas on how he could see her again without her ignoring his whole person. He doesn't blame her.

But it was frustrating.

He knows he doesn't have the right to be frustrated after everything he said to her, but he just feels frustrated.

Maybe not at her. At himself.

For even saying those words to her. For making her cry.

Levi pulled at his hair.

'Just apologize you big pussy.'

Levi shook his head and drank some of his black tea. As soon as it made its way down his throat he gulped it all. Finishing all his tea in mere seconds.He stood up as soon as he finished it.

That's it.

Today was the day where he apologized to her after weeks of not talking. He needs to tell her he fucked up big time and he's aware. He needs to find her first. To tell her all things that have been making his heart feel heavy.

(Y/n) was cleaning the horse stables. She didn't want to tell her squad to do it. She just didn't want to talk to anyone. Any human that crossed her path she just straight out ignored them and didn't look at them at all. She held a blank facial expression.

The hurt Levi caused her heart to feel was unbearable. All the pain he caused her to feel, mentally, was it even humanly? Could humans even feel this amount of pain?

She felt like dying honestly.

Or just running away from the Survey Corps. But she knew the penalty was execution.

Life wasn't that easy.

If life was easy maybe Levi wouldn't have been such an ass to her and made her feel like she truly amounts to nothing.

Did he see her as some pathetic, weak human being? Because she doesn't eat? She tries too. She really does. But every time she does, it makes her feel nauseous. It looks sickening.

When she was sold to the men from the Underground, they starved her. To keep her ‘beautiful’ body. That's why she's sensitive to the subject of starvation. As you could tell from when she kicked Sasha for saying she was “literally starving”.

Why was she even thinking about Levi still? He doesn't love her. He doesn't care about her.

He's.. just a jerk.

She felt a tear slip down her eye. She recalled the memory of her morning after that day.

At breakfast Hange, Eren, Mikasa, and Armin were all talking amongst each other. Then they looked up at her, seeing her without her cloak. She sort of regretted leaving it in Levi’s office. But it was too late to receive it anyways. Then they smiled and waved at her, acting friendly. Her blank face didn't waver as she looked away from them and walked past the table. Not planning on eating.

All of their smiles disappeared as they watched her walk off.

“What's wrong with her?” Eren asked the table.

“I have no idea.” Mikasa’s usually bored eyes were filled with some concern.

“Is she okay? She didn't look too good right now.” Armin looked at Hange since Hange was the closest to (Y/n).

“I'm not sure. I haven't seen her since yesterday when she left mid dinner. Maybe she ate in her office? She had a plate of food with her.” Eren shrugged and they all thought to themselves.

She flat out ignored her friends and Levi for the past few weeks. She just didn't want to be around people at the moment. And once Hange found out, they completely understood.

(Y/n) shoveled the horse shit, almost making her want to puke. But she tried to remain expressionless. She had no clue Levi was looking for her in that moment of time.

He already checked her office. Knocked on her room door which was open, and her bed was untouched. If looked like she hadn't slept on there for a long time, causing his guilt to rise. He asked all of her friends if they've seen her. To which they responded with, "We haven't talked to her in a while actually." Which made him feel worse. But he shook it off, focusing on finding her. He even asked Erwin if she's been assigned to an expedition with her squad. He said, "No." which made Levi relieved as he continued to check the whole castle. He even went to the training grounds. She wasn't there.

Where the fuck is she? Hasn't he checked everywhere?

.. No. Not everywhere. He walked down to the horse stables, and checked stall after stall. And finally he saw her shoveling horse shit with her beautiful stunning self.

He didn't even realize her name slipped past his lips until she turned to him.She looked beautiful. But still thin. Really thin. Although she held a blank face as she stared at him.

The twinkle that was in her eyes, disappeared.

He was looking past the sort of horrific look she was giving him though. Calling it her “blank” face. She felt paralyzed as she just stood there.

“Captain.” She finally muttered out.She never called him Captain. It was always Levi. Always Levi.

“... (Y/n).” He repeated at a loss for words.

‘No, don't chicken out now you bitch. Just tell her what's been on your mind.’ Levi sucked in a breath before walking towards her. She just stared at him, and finally broke out of the paralyzed state she was just in. She took a couple of steps back, her back hitting the wall as she dropped the shovel full of horse poop.Her eyebrows furrowed as he walked towards her.

“Stay away from me.” She told him in a cold tone.He halted and stood where he was. Losing confidence for a second, and feeling guilty as hell. But the longer he stared at her the longer he felt bad and had to say something.

“I’m..” What the hell. Speak Levi! Speak!

“I’m..”

“You're wasting your time if you're trying to apologize.” (Y/n) picked up the shovel she dropped on the ground.

“Why are you doing stable duty?” He forced out.

Ugh. Pussy.

“Because I'm too sloppy, and weak with everything else. I lack skill.” She responded with a small scoff. Levi glanced to his side, hurt flashed in his eyes but he tried to make it disappear just as quickly as it came.

“I'm sorry..” He said clearly, with no hesitation or stutter in his voice this time.

She raised her chin up at this. “Sure.”

“I am, okay? I’m sorry for everything I said to you. It was unnecessary and I just..” Levi’s heartbeat started to race again.

“I'm a dick. And I hurt you. Badly. I said some things I can't take back but they were all a lie. I don't think your insecurities are pointless and I don't think you're a weak soldier. You're one of the strongest Captains here at Survey Corps.” She looked unimpressed with his words.

“I’m not falling for this, Ackerman. Okay? Now will you just leave and let me finish this?” Her glare directed at him made him hate himself.

“(Y/n)-”

“Will you go away? I’ve made it clear I obviously don't want to have this discussion with you.” She snapped.

“God damn it (Y/n)! Will you just let me apologize to you?!” He was about to walk towards her again but she didn't allow it.

“Why?! Why do you want to apologize after 1 ½ months, Levi?!” Her eyebrows were furrowed and her teeth were gritted as she shook her head before even realizing what she just said.

Levi stared at her. She had that broken look on her face again, as she sighed softly. Her eyes looked so sad.

Way to go Ackerman, you dumbass.

“You don't like me. And I..” she blinked back her tears that were building up.

“I loved you..” She said in a whisper. Loved?.. No.

“I’ve never hated you (Y/n).” She looked at him, not believing what he was saying.

“I have always..” His heartbeat sped up. His cheeks warming up and being dusted with blush.

“I love you, (Y/n).” Her eyes widened as she slowly turned her head to Levi.

He had eyebags under his eyes. His skin looked paler than it usually did. And.. he had this pleading look in his eyes.

What happened to him? Was he just as broken as her?.. but how? He looked like he didn't even care when he ripped her heart out and stopped on it with ease.

But she just broke eye contact instead of believing him. That's what they all say. ‘Sorry’ to make it better. But they don't really mean it. Is a bandage immediately going to heal you? It's not. So it's best not to sugarcoat it.

“Tch, you're lying to yourself.”

Levi stepped back, his frustration building up.

“I hate liars.”

“Then if you really love me, why did you tell me all those things in your office that day?” (Y/n) glared.

“I just brought you food, you ass.” She looked away, feeling those stupid crocodile tears build up again.

He let out a sigh and turned his head away from her.

“(Y/n) I really didn't mean any of that stupid shit I spoke. I just..” He sucked in a breath, as the awkwardness got to him finally.

“I get awkward and.. fuck, this sounds stupid-.. n-nervous around you. Which is why I've been so mean to you lately, and why I can't even look y-you in the eye when you're around me or why I have this stupid ass stutter!” He slapped a hand over his face and turned his whole body away from her, his cheeks turning to the color of a tomato this time.

(Y/n)’s furrowed brows relaxed when she started running everything he said through her brain. That explains why he stutters around her and why he does act nervous every time she even breathes near him. She gasped quietly, and her eyes softened.

Does he really have feelings for her? Real ones?

So all the things he said.. Did he really not mean it? But wait.. if he did like her or.. ‘love’ her like he says he does, why did he even say all those cruel things to begin with? Like from the very beginning?

“Levi.” He turned his head to look at her.

“(Y/n).”

“Why were you even mean to begin with if you really do like me? Everything you said.. it's.. not going to go away so easily. You said it all so easily though. I'm just.. confused.” Levi glanced down hesitant, and then walked toward her, this time she didn't say anything.

Once he stood in front of her, he slowly grabbed her hands. (Y/n)’s eyebrows raised slightly.

‘I thought he hated physical interaction.’

“I say this with full honesty, (Y/n). I have no idea how to talk to you normally. Not so long ago, when you would talk to me I didn't know how to respond at all. That's where the stutter comes in. And I’ve never been attracted to anyone like I am with you. It's hard to say, brat.” He looked up. She just stared at him.

“All the random insults poured out of my mouth every time I saw you because I get awkward and I think that's ‘flirting’.” She looked down, feeling his thumbs start to rub circles on her hands.

“I'm sorry for everything I've said. I didn't mean any of it, I was talking out of my ass. Your body is beautiful and so are you.. I-I can't even explain how much I..” Levi’s eyes met with hers as he trailed off. He lost his train of thoughts. How couldn't he?

When she staring at him with those fucking pretty eyes. (Y/n) blinked causing him to snap out of it. He cleared his throat and his eyes sort of.. softened.

“How much I love you.”

“Levi..” That sparkle in her eye shining brighter than ever. Her cheeks turned crimson.

“I understand if you don't want to be with me. But I promise if you do, I won't ever disappoint you or make you cry like I've done so many times.” Levi’s heart thumped and since it was so quiet in the night, the only thing to be heard was the sounds of nature, the wind and his heart beating out of his chest.

“I'll make sure you start eating again. Every single day.” He hesitantly lifted one of her hands and placed a light kiss on her knuckle.

“I just.. I don't want to get hurt again.” (Y/n) whispered, her eyes not meeting his.

“I promise I'll never hurt you like this ever again.” She looked up.

“Promise?” He smiled softly, making her heart flutter. She's never seen Levi smile.

“I promise.” The longer he stared at her, his attention moved down to her lips. Her heart beating faster than a rabbits at this point, her breath was caught at the back of her throat. Levi glanced at her eyes, then her lips. Then he lifted a hand to her chin. Tilting her head as he slowly leaned in.

‘Levi?’ She thought in her brain.

Just as his lips brushed against hers she relaxed. (Y/n) closed her eyes, and leaned in, placing her lips onto his soft ones. As their lips connected, (Y/n) wrapped her arms around his neck as he pulled her closer to him with his other arm.

The kiss was sweet. Levi felt like someone lit a bonfire inside of him, his neck and face heating up immediately. (Y/n) could almost feel her heart beating in her throat. She felt like she couldn't breathe the longer her and Levi kissed.

Finally he broke his lips apart from hers.

A small blush on his facial features as he smiled genuinely.

“I'll help you clean up this shit, so we can leave sooner. It smells like ass in here.” (Y/n) nodded, letting out a small laugh. One of her rare laughs.

As she went to pick up the shovel she turned around to look back at Levi.

“Levi?” He turned to her.

“(Y/n)?”

“.. I love you.” Love filled his eyes as shyness filled his thoughts causing him to halt for a second.

“I love you, too.”

a/n: I hope you enjoyed that story!! please requests more! ❣️:)

[iniyaas]

I genuinely don't understand what Ness is expecting of Kaiser anymore?

See, Kaiser is actually praising(?) Ness here:

He is warning Rin that he is gonna get bitten by Yoichi and the stray dog- Ness. which yes, Rin did overlook Ness gaining on him and does lose the ball.

And yet, Ness' reaction is: "What do you think of my press, Kaiser?!"

Whereas Kaiser never said that his presses or passes were bad or anything? In fact, I am pretty sure he has been watching Ness' moves; cuz he noticed Ness pressing in before Rin or Isagi. all he said was that they won't maintain their one-to-one coordination anymore.

Leaving 'find your new master' and all the edgy teenager talk aside, the so-called "Kainess breakup" boils down to this, right? Kaiser wants to open up his options and include the other players into his play style--which is not necessarily a bad thing? Soccer is, yes, a team sport; how are they going to play a team sport with just two people? In fact, won't Ness, being a midfielder, have more scope for performance too, if he passes to others, not just Kaiser? idk.

Okay, but what is super funny to me in this whole "breakup" is: Kaiser really thought he took in a dog, made him his pet, but now he has abandoned him on the streets again -> Status Updated: my dog is a stray dog again/ UP for sale lmao

poor Ness is so in the habit of being patted and praised "Good boy, Ness" after every pass or smth; so he goes to Kaiser for the same but gets this:

Find a new master who'd pat (squeeze? crush?) his head and go Good Boy, Ness! I am sad for you, Ness--but I guess I can't relate to being so obedient to someone your age?? Love is one thing, admiration is another; but this is ??? what exactly?? obsession maybe? praise kink?

adding: this post by @/riririnnnn [I wonder if Ness is still going to blame Isagi for everything.]

something else I am curious about, and don't understand is this:

See, Ness is super happy for Kaiser getting an offer from Re Al!

When Kaiser was cartoon-villain-monologuing about Isagi (so cringey it was reidiculous, Kaiser what the fuck was that), Ness got frustrated that Kaiser is looking at someone else, not him??

And yet, if Kaiser does accept Re Al offer and leaves for that club, Ness will be left behind alone at Basmun? if Kaiser leaves for Re Al, he will obviously form new partnerships there, and never look back at Ness anymore? So, where does that leave Ness? Is he not thinking that far, or does he believe Re Al will extend the offer to him as well? They have Sae already-the best midfielder in U-20! Why would they take in Ness? this is not an extra buy-one-get-one-free package with Kaiser?!

What would Ness do if Kaiser actually left for Re Al?!!!

That's why I want Ness to stop searching for yet another master and live as a stray dog who is loyal to no one.

Of course, it'd be super difficuly to change his style after passing to one striker all along, but it's not too late. he can change if he tries, he has more than enough specs to do it.

After all, even on their first meeting, Kaiser commented:

[feyreswaterybowels]

Falling Star🌠

Azriel x Rhys’ Sister

Word Count: 4.4k

Tags/Warnings: Angst. Death. Love Confessions. Friends with benefits to fated mates. Hurt/Comfort. Not Y/N. Third Person. Probably grammatical errors.

Summary: Stella is Rhys’ little sister. Her and Azriel are best friends with benefits on the down low. The bond snapped into place and things didn’t work out the way Stella wished they had.

Stella stood outside the heavy wooden doors of the High Lord's study. They were preparing for battle, the battle against Hybern. Tensions were high and things would either work in their favor or change life completely as they knew it.

Her hand was half raised—ready to knock but she had stopped herself twice, debating if now was the proper time for this conversation. Her heart ached in her chest at the decision she was about to make.

Just come in, little star.

The words echoed in her head. She wasn’t surprised he knew she was standing out there, she and her brother had always been in tune with one another.

She sighed, reaching out to push the door open. Rhysand was already standing to greet her as she walked in. He didn’t bother with a smile or greeting to cover the frown on his face. He could read her better than anyone even without entering her head. All it took was one look at her face and he knew something wasn’t right.

What is it? What’s wrong, Stella?

She fiddled with her hands for a moment, leaning against his desk. Thinking. Trying to find the right words. Decide how much she wanted to give away. If she wanted to tell her brother that she found her mate—that said mate did not want her and she was heartbroken because she had been in love with him for years before the bond snapped into place. That she had wrongfully assumed he felt the same way.

She was wrong about a lot.

“When the war is over,” she started, pausing to choose her words, “I want you to send me…away.”

“Away?” Rhys asks, arms folded, dark brows rising high above his violet eyes.

“Yes.” She nodded. “After the war. Assuming everything goes to plan—works in our favor. I want you to send me away.”

“Why?” He asked, confusion etched all over his face.

“I can’t be…here,” she breathed, the pain in her chest tightening. That string that connected her to her mate pulled taunt as if he was pulling away as hard as he could hoping it would snap in two.

“Why?” It was more of a demand than a question. She knew that tone. He wasn’t going to let her go on a half-assed explanation. He wanted details. A reason. The truth.

She felt her eyes water, it would be easier to just let him in her mind. Show him what was wrong but then he would see too much. See things that might make him hate her fated mate, someone he loved dearly and she couldn’t allow that.

“Azriel’s my mate…” She whispered, unsure if he heard her.

“What?” Fuck, don’t make me say it again.

Her violet eyes met his, brimmed with tears and pleading.

“Azriel’s my mate,” she whispered again, her voice breaking into a sob.

Then she was being scooped into her brother's arms. Wrapped up like she was a little girl again and cradled against his chest. She didn’t know how long they stood there. She heard the faintest click of the door closing but didn’t bother to check if he used his magic or if someone else had done it. But her cries turned into soft sniffles before dying out.

Rhys pulled back, grabbed her face, and wiped away her tears. His eyes met hers, violet searching violet.

“Did he reject it?” He asks, eyes flashing with anger, Stella shakes her head.

“No. He didn’t reject it. But he made it very clear he doesn’t want it either,” she shrugs, sniffing.

“And this is why you wish to leave?” Rhys asks, hands still holding her face as she nodded.

“Where would you go?” He asked, emotions lacing through his voice.

“Tarquin has told me I’m welcome in his court. I haven’t talked to him in some time but I—I think that’s where I could go. If not, maybe Helion would be willing to let me go there…” She trails off. She had thought that far ahead. She could stay in Velaris…but to see him every day? Work with him? Just the thought was painful. Painful enough to make her gasp and clutch at her chest.

Rhys growled, taking a step away and heading for the study’s doors. Stella’s eyes widened and she stumbled reaching for him.

“Where are you going?” She asked, panicked.

“To knock some sense into his stubborn ass,” Rhys had the door half opened before she slammed herself against it to stop him.

“You can’t,” she shook her head. He looked at her skeptically as if to say, yeah he absolutely could do that. But she shook her head again. “Not with this, Rhys. Please. He has to choose or reject it on his own—you can’t make him.”

Rhys hung his head with a sigh. He knew she was right. She was forever grateful for her brother's love, his protection but not with this. It wouldn’t be real if he fought Azriel into the mating bond. She didn’t want that. She wanted it to be real.

She thought what they had was real.

“Don’t hate him, please,” Stella begged. “He’s your brother as much as I’m your sister. You know blood has never mattered. So don’t hate him. But…but when this war is over I need you to let me go. Please, Rhys.”

Rhys looked up, their eyes meeting again and he nodded.

“Okay, sweetheart.”

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

That night Stella was in her room. Packing away the last of her things. Her entire life was packed away in boxes and luggage. At this point, she and everyone she loved would die in this war or they would win and she would leave the only home she’d ever known behind. It hurt to think about.

A knock on the door sounded and opened before she could answer whether to come in or not. She wasn’t completely surprised to see Feyre entering, she knew Rhys would tell her, they didn’t keep things from one another.

“So, it’s true? You’re planning on leaving?” Feyre asks, walking over, her dark dress dragging the floor silently as she takes a seat by the open windows. Stella nodded her head in answer.

“I’m sure Rhys told you why,” She said softly, taking a seat next to her.

“He did. I could tell he was upset and demanded to know why, I couldn’t imagine it was anything like this,” She says, a frown tugging at her lips. “Does he know you and Azriel were sleeping together?”

Stella’s eyes burned with tears as she looked away from her friend. Fuck. She shook her head. If she had shared that with Rhys there would have been no stopping him, he would have hunted Azriel down.

“No. I don’t want him to hate his brother,” Stella said, swiping at her cheeks quickly.

“Are you going to tell him you’re leaving?” the High Lady asks, waving a hand for a tray of steaming tea to appear. “Azriel, I mean.”

Stella bit her lip as Feyre handed her a mug. She hadn’t thought about whether she would tell him or not. She didn’t want to just disappear but she didn’t want him to blame himself either.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged with a sigh, letting the steam from the tea waft up into her nostrils. Something floral with a hint of sweet honey. “Would you?”

“I kind of did leave, remember? I mean I was the one who wasn’t sure of the mating bond at first but that time alone helped me…process. So maybe the distance could help? I don’t know,” Feyre frowns before continuing, “Whatever you decide will be the right decision. Don't second-guess yourself. Only you know what’s right for you.”

“I—I thought he loved me,” she admitted softly. “As more than a friend. As more than family. I thought he loved me, he said—”

Stella hiccuped on a cry trying to find it’s way from her mouth, taking a sip of tea and letting it burn its way down her throat.

“He said he wanted me. We shared a bed almost every night. The way he touched me, kissed me, made love to me…was it all a lie?” I cried, my eyes meeting hers, gray-blue pools brimmed with tears.

“I’m sorry,” Was Feyre’s answering whisper, her hand reaching out to rest on Stella’s knee.

The rest of our visit was spent in silence.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Today was the day. Stella braided her hair back, dressed in her leathers adorned with three purple siphons, and strapped her weapons to her body. She looked in the mirror, wings arching behind her. She turned around, the room now so empty, only the corner filled with boxes and luggage was occupied. The shelves and bed were stripped bare, ready for her departure.

The bed she shared with Azriel so many nights. Secret meetings, dinner and fucks. Various nights where he showed up bloody from combat and she patched him up. Drunken nights after too many drinks at Rita—stumbling into this room to undress one another. Or on the occasion one or the other had a nightmare, as they plagued them all, would lead to cuddling until the sunrise.

Stella nearly jumped as a shadow slithered up her thigh. She hadn’t noticed it, only giving her a second before Azriel appeared, dressed in his leathers, all seven blue siphons faintly glowing. She’d always loved those siphons.

“What’s all this?” Is the first thing he asks looking around the room. No hello or greeting of any kind.

She shrugs in answer. Maybe now was as good a time as any to tell him. But would her decision matter enough to distract him in the battle? She couldn’t live with herself if she was the reason he got hurt. “Are you leaving?” He asks.

“After the battle,” she nodded in answer.

“Where?” He asks, with what seems to be a concern—or was the worry?

“I don’t know yet, why do you care?” Stella snapped. Azriel’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You’re leaving because of me.” It’s not a question. She clenched her jaw looking down at the shadow still wrapped around her thigh. “You don’t have to—”

“I can’t be here. I can’t be around you,” She snarled, watching him and his shadows cringe at it. “Do you have any idea how painful it is to see you every day, Azriel?”

A look of guilt and shame passes over his features.

“Because I won’t accept the mating bond?” He says in disbelieving shock.

“Are you kidding me? You know as much about mating bonds as I do. You know how painful it can be. Why are you pretending like we’re any different? I feel you pulling away from it every day and it feels like my heart is being ripped from my chest every time you do,” She said, voice shaking and emotional. She shook her head and blinked away the tears. “After the war, you can reject the bond formally and then I’ll leave.”

They stood there in silence. Staring at one another. His shadow squeezed around her thigh as the rest swirled and whispered around him. She stood tall, batting his shadow away, she would not break down in front of him. Not today, not now.

“I made it clear how I felt from the beginning…” He begins, trailing off and she could swear she heard his shadows hiss as if offended for her.

“Yeah, I know what you said. Just sex,” She rolled her eyes, fists clenching at her sides. “But then everything you did, every action after that said something else. The way you touched me, fucked me, spoke to me all screamed more than sex. But that was my mistake, I guess. So, you have no reason to feel guilty when I leave. It was just sex for you and I—I fell in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for years and I foolishly thought…” She stopped herself.

Azriel stepped forward, opening his mouth but a knock on the door echoed through the empty room.

“We’re all ready,” Feyre’s voice calls.

“Coming,” Stella called back. Her eyes caught Azriel’s before she stepped forward and walked around him.

Are you okay? Feyre asked once she was out of the room.

No. She shook her head, letting Feyre hug her tightly.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

EARLIER

“Az,” Cassian greeted, stepping out onto the training level.

“Morning,” Azriel said from where he was seated on the ledge, overlooking the city below.

Cassian walked over, surveying his brother, leaning against the edge and crossing his arms.

“Everything okay?” He asked, watching the storming shadows slow a bit.

Azriel’s quiet for a minute before sighing, and hung his head. Cassian stayed quiet too, waiting for his brother to say whatever he needed to. It’s a long minute before he lifts his head, looking out over the expanse in Velaris.

“I fucked up,” He confessed.

Cassian’s brow raised as his spine straightened. “How so?”

“Stella’s my mate,” He breathed, the first time he’s said it out loud to anyone.

Cassian let out a low whistle. “And how exactly did you fuck up?”

“I told her I didn’t want it,” He admitted, swallowing thickly, looking over at his brother.

“I thought you two…” Cassian trails off with a vague hand gesture and an eyebrow raise. Azriel shrugs.

“We were sleeping together. But that’s it, that’s all it was,” Azriel explained, but the look Cassian gave him made him cringe away. “We agreed—”

“That girl has been in love with you for years, at least a decade, there’s no way you didn’t know that, Az,” Cassian said, remembering how those two were a couple without actually being a couple. They were more in love than anyone else he’d ever known, or at least he thought they were. “How did she react when the bond snapped?”

“She was excited,” Azriel answered, a thickness taking over his throat. “She made a big dinner. I thought it was just dinner. She kept asking questions, I guess trying to figure out if it snapped for me too, it hadn’t. Not at that time. She eventually just said we were mates, that the bond snapped for her that morning when we were in bed together—during our fucking. She was so happy. And I completely shut her down. Told her I didn’t want it, that we weren’t together, that I didn’t want to be together, and that we needed to figure out what to do about it.”

Cassian's eyes are wide. He wasn’t one to judge but he would never expect that kind of harshness from his brother directed to someone he knew the shadowsinger loved.

“Fuck, Az. That’s rough…” Cassian eventually said. “Fuck. I know that hurt her badly.”

Azriel nodded, dropping his head to his hands.

“Yeah. She cried a lot. Begged me not to leave when I got up to go. I can feel her pain all the time through the bond even with it not being accepted. I can feel her happiness when she sees me before it turns to dread. What we had was good, so good, but what if…what if the bond changes that?” Azriel’s voice broke. “I love her. Of course, I love her. But I don’t know if the bond is right for us.”

“Az, man, you’re overthinking this shit,” Cassian shook his head. “Of course the mating bond is right. The mother doesn’t make mistakes. I know you’ve always felt unworthy of love but man, that girl loves you more than anyone. You deserve love and happiness. You and Stella deserve it, together.”

“I don’t know how to fix it,” Azriel whispersed.

“Just talk to her man. Tell her how you feel. The bond doesn’t have to be accepted right now, maybe tell her you need to think about it not that you don’t want it,” Cassian offered, reaching out to grab his brother's shoulder, squeezing it.

“I—I’ll talk to her before we leave…”

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

The next time Stella saw Azriel was in the midst of battle. High in the sky. After meetings and marching onto the field were done. It was nothing but fighting after that. It had been a long time. Many soldiers are dead or injured already. More would be too.

Stella knew Rhys and Feyre had something up their sleeve with talk of the Bonecarver. They needed any help they could get. They didn’t have as many men as Hybern.

Little Star? Echoes in her head as she shoved a Hybern warrior away, slashing at him with her sword.

I’m fine. You? Is her answer, plunging straight through his heart.

Me too. Then her head is silent again. Turning her attention to the next warrior to approach her. They came quick enough, when one fell, another was immediately there to take its place.

She looked around, there were many warriors in the sky but it wasn’t hard to spot Azriel. Something felt wrong as she watched Azriel, not with him but with the Hybern warriors around him. She wanted to tug the bond and alert him to something being wrong but that could distract him and put him in a dangerous situation.

Stella slit the throat of the warrior approaching her and shot through the sky before the next one could approach. She had to dodge and swerve around fighting pairs, missing swords and fists landing in all directions.

She was closer to Az, there are fewer warriors around him now. She stopped where she was, with no immediate danger around them, and tugged on the bond. She saw him freeze and tugged again. He whirled around searching for her.

She could see the panic on his face as he scanned the sky for her. He spins around and their eyes meet. She tugged the bond, trying to gauge if he’s okay, something still felt wrong, but he must have understood because he nodded—and for the first time he tugs back.

Her heart leaps in her chest and if she was standing her knees would have gone weak. But something was still wrong. Instead of a warm feeling spreading through her at that tug it was something cold and icy. Worry? No, not worry. Warning.

Their eyes met again, hazel orbs wide and his shadows storming violently. She swore the bond tugging in her chest felt like it was trying to pull her forward. Just as she was about to follow it she stopped.

Azriel’s face is one of pure pain when she fely a force behind her and then everything went numb. She felt a heavy weight in her stomach. She drop her eyes from Azriel’s to her stomach and there sticking from her stomach was…a sword?

Stella’s eyes meet Azriel’s again, a sob tearing from her throat as the sword ripped from her stomach.

“NO!” Azriel’s voice rips through the space and she felt the world around her shake. She felt the warmth spreading over her abdomen and the wetness there when she touched it.

She heard a pained sound behind her but before she could turn to see what happened her wings gave out. She knew she was falling but she couldn’t do anything to stop it. She saw Cassian shove a body off his sword, a panicked-pained look on his face when their eyes met.

Her eyes find Azriel again, flying to her. She tried to reach for him but he was too far away. Then he was gone, nowhere in her sight. She squeezed her eyes shut, and felt the tears leak down her temples. Not like this. I don’t want to go like this.

Stell’s body smashes into something hard and she knew it had to be the ground. Dead. Am I dead? She sobbed and pain radiated from her wound all over her body.

“Sh.” A voice rumbled into her hair and she realized she hadn’t smashed into the ground. She smashed into a body, into Azriel who had her wrapped tightly in his arms, flying faster than she had ever felt.

His shadows wrapped around her tightly as they flew before everything disappeared as he winnowed. She grabbed him tightly, shoving her face against his neck and praying to the Mother to just let her stay in the warmth of his arms a little longer.

Another body quaking shake wracked through her as they landed harshly on the ground.

“Rhysand!”

“Feyre!”

“Thesan!” Azriel’s voice thunders around her. Screaming desperately for someone, anyone to heal her.

Stella heard voices around them but couldn’t make out what they were saying. The sunlight is gone but as she’s laid down she realized they’ve been brought to a tent. She tried to grab Azriel, sobbing for him not to leave her.

Sh, little star we have to heal you. Rhys coos in her head but she can hear the emotion that he tries to cover.

“I need these leathers removed,” An older voice said, Madja. It’s got to be Madja. A pain radiated from her stomach and she sobbed again.

Hands worked to remove her leathers, she opened my eyes. Feyre and Rhys stand above her, unbuckling armor and removing layers to allow Madja to work.

She yanked the bond hard. Azriel. She wanted Azriel. And then he’s there crouching next to her head, hazel eyes wet and pained, a hand stroking through her hair.

“Az…”

“Sh, don’t speak,” He strokes her hair. “I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you.”

Stella felt Madja’s hands on her stomach, the warmth of her magic and it hurt. She screamed over the hushed hurried speaking around her.

And then there’s nothing but black darkness.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

When Stella opened her eyes she was at the river house, curled up in her favorite chair. Her eyebrows pulled together in confusion and nearly sobbed when she realize what this was.

“Hey, little star,” Rhy’s voice echoed around the room before he appears on the couch across from her.

“How bad is it?” She breathes, wrapping her arms around her middle. “Don’t lie, please.”

“It’s bad,” Rhys breathed quietly after a moment. Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. A heavy sigh leaves him. “Madja couldn’t heal you. You aren’t healing on your own. Feyre and I both tried and nothing.”

“Thesan?”

“Madja’s gone to retrieve him but there’s a chance even his power may not heal you,” He said, and she could hear the emotion in his voice.

“Is it faebane?” She asked, chin wobbling, he nodded. “I took the antidote, I don’t understand.”

“Neither do we, we’ve asked Thesan but he doesn’t understand either. No one else has been affected by the faebane,” Rhys explained, eyes flashing to her.

“So…I’m going to die?” Her voice cracked.

“I’m going to do everything in my power to save you—”

“I don’t think you can,” She whisper, holding his gaze. She could see it in his eyes, he knows as much as she doesn’t three powerful healers can’t save her there’s not much hope. “Wake me up, I need to say goodbye to him.”

Rhys looks at her and nodded. He stood and she followed. She couldn’t stop herself from throwing her arms around him. Hugging him tighter than she ever had before.

“Tell everyone I love them,” she whispered against his shoulder. “I love you, Rhys.”

His hand cupped the back of her head, holding her tight, his body shaking with silent cries. “I love you, Little Star.”

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Warmth. That’s the first thing Stella noticed. She was warm and comfortable. She blinked her eyes open with a soft groan. She turned her head and saw Azriel, eyes shut and forehead pressed to his hands clasping hers.

“Hey there,” She whispered, squeezing his hand. Reaching out through the bond relieved when it was open and welcoming. She melted into the cot, not in much pain. She was sure her brother was to thank for that.

Stella looked down over myself, covered in a thin blanket up to her waist, eyes landing on her bandaged abdomen—on the blood-soaked bandage.

“Hey back,” He whispered, keeping a grip on her hand with one of his while the other reached out to stroke her hair. She let herself relax into the touch, nuzzling against his hand.

“Rhys says I’m not healing,” She breathed, voice cracking.

“I know, baby,” Azriel answered softly with a nod. Eyes wet and lips bloody red from being bitten. “Come here.”

He lifted her easily, placing her in his lap and cradling her. She could vaguely feel his shadows curling over her skin, through her hair, trying to comfort her as much as he was.

“I’m gonna die,” She cried, pressing her face to his chest.

Azriel shushed her, continuing to stroke her hair as he rocked them back and forth. “I’m sorry,” he cried, looking down at her. “I was wrong. I was so wrong to tell you I didn’t want the mating bond. It had nothing to do with you, my love. You are the perfect mate. I was trying to deny it, thinking I didn’t deserve the love of such a perfect mate. I’ve been in love with you for years, fighting it as hard as I could. And I was afraid. Afraid I would love you and it wouldn’t be enough. Please, forgive me my love, my mate. Please. I love you.”

His broken sobs were painful. His body was shaking hard. All Stella wanted to do was kiss him. So she did. She grabbed his face, pulled him down, and kissed him. Her lips were dry but she didn’t care.

“I forgive you,” She whispered against his lips. “Reject the bond.”

“What?” He asked, eyes squinted in confusion.

“Reject the bond, it—it will hurt less when I go,” She said, she wanted to save him from that heartache.

“No,” He shakes his. “No, I won’t put you through that pain. I won’t let you die like that.”

“It’s okay, Az—”

“It’s not,” He growled, sobbing when she touched his face. “You’re my mate, I won’t reject it.”

He leaned down to kiss her again, his lips were soft but tasted like blood. The kiss was a mere pressing of lips, she was too weak to fully kiss back.

When Azriel pulled away her eyes stayed closed, breath slow and shallow. He could feel her life slipping from her body. But it’s not when she’s limp in his arms and chest no longer moving that he knows she’s gone. It’s when he feels the emptiness in his chest. When that place in his chest that connects them is no longer there

“No,” he whispered. Shaking his head. Tears falling onto her beautiful pale face. He held her tighter to his chest. “Stella, please. No, please come back to me, baby. Please, come back.”

But her eyes stayed closed. Her chest stayed still. And that space stayed empty. It hurt. It hurt so fucking back.

And all he could do was scream.

[buggachat]

the fact glaciator 2 is in third place on the poll that it's in makes me wonder if people don't recall what episode glaciator 2 is

[clockwork-carstairs]

thinking about how everyone who meets matthew is so charmed by him and finds him so so easy to love, but in private he actively hates himself and genuinely believes himself to be a waste of space who’s unworthy of love. matthew fairchild you loveable fool…if you could see yourself the way others see you!!!!!

[ethogirlsanonymous]

I saw Etho on mcci a while back (aka we were on the same parkour course and I saw him in the tablist, I didn't get close enough to actually see him) and I regret not asking for a screenie so bad. But I nearly had a fucking panic attack when I realized he was there, like my hands were shaking so bad I couldn't even parkour. I couldn't say hi or i would have exploded I think.

I was never meant to do more than admire from afar I guess....

.

[mellonieee]

To me Perirep feels like one of those ships that you're either all for or you don't ship it at all, there is no in-between.