#floating away into the abyss

[diejager]

Saccharine and Monstrosity pt.1

Pairing: Eldritch Horror!König x mermaid!reader

Cw: kidnapping, manipulation, DARK FIC, trap, luring, mention of breeding kink, protective König, mention of partial nudity, hunting, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 4K

I got inspired by @konigsblog ‘s post.

You enjoyed the sun as much as any other betta fish mermaid, laying on the warm rocks and bathing under the bright, yellow sun. You lived in a school of fish that moved near the shores of a tropical island a few generations before, building houses under the coral reef and rocks where newly placed branches would grow and work as a natural shield. The world you lived in - the part of the ocean you called your home - was bright and colourful, the shallow waters clear and gleaming under the warming sun.

You liked all things bright and colourful, either big or small, you decorated your part of the cave with things you found while swimming around your territory. Be it a golden coin shining on the ocean floor, or a shard of coloured glass, you picked it all up and stuck it around your room. Sometimes, you found pretty things near the limits of your home, and other times, you ventured closer to the edge of the darkness when something shiny caught your attention. 

Over the ridge of sand that drew the start of the darkness, that deep and menacing slope down to the deepest part of your ocean, where darker, meaner and cruel beings born of cruelty and madness lived. It was somewhere all mers were warned of, to stay far away from the darkness and never stray from the light that fed and protected you. You thrived in the light, your body absorbing the warmth from the sun that made your scales vibrant and feeding from the fauna and flora that lived beside you: seaweeds and small fishes. 

Your kind grew up with stories of horrifying monsters and cruel creatures that lived in that abyss, lingering near the shallow to catch a pretty, little mer for their hoard. Whatever became of the taken was still unknown, once a mer was taken by One, no one would hear from them from then on. Your parents had warned you about straying too close from the shallow, daring fate when you swam over the ridge to collect those pretty gems you fancied so much.

“Don’t worry,” you’d grin at her, fins flickering behind you. “I’m a fast swimmer, mom!”

You were a fast swimmer, slipping between rocks and corals, hands cradling your little shells while you fled from the dark, twisting over the ridge and vanishing between the corals. That’s what you did most days, picking up people’s trash to make it your treasure, fingers cleaning the sand off the holes and crevasses before sticking them to your walls. You also tinkered with metal creations you found, a silver fork or a rusted-looking instrument. 

Granted, you joined in hunts, catching sardines and herrings, claws digging into its scaled bodies and teeth ripping into its flesh, the only other taste being sea salt, or bathed under the sun, but you preferred scavenging for loot. Although mers hunted alone, most found it easier to do it in groups, swarming shoals of fish and catching in a group of a dozen at a time for your little colony. So when you were fed and rested, you were back out, treading the line between the shallow and the abyss.

You swam slowly, head turning left and right for anything that would catch your attention, for that small glint hidden under a thin veil of sand or a long metallic object sticking out from the ground. You already had a few things in your arms, a few shells, human objects thrown overboard or floated into the sea, and small treasures: white pearls. You picked things up from both sides, mind in a comfortable and pleasant space, prideful of your catch so far that you were oblivious of the eyes following your colourful body. 

His pale eyes wandered over your puffy cheeks and sweet lips, those squinted eyes in mirth as you searched for more. He went down the curve of your shoulders and the swell of your breasts, perky nipples covered by pretty shells, over your soft stomach and that bright, colourful tail of yours that first caught his attention. Every scale glistened under the sun, reflecting the light on the sand while you swam, your fins curving with the twist of your tail. 

You were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, an angel collecting treasure, just like he did. He saw the batch in your arms, clutched between your breasts when you dove to pick something up on his side. You were as adorable and innocent as you were pretty, your action oblivious of his predatory eyes, dipping into his territory without fear of retribution on his part. He liked that bold and daring attitude of yours, fitting for someone so courageously bright and flashing your bold colours to him. 

If he were to drop something closer to him, would you still swim towards it or ignore it for something closer to the ridge? If he hid until you were close enough, would he be able to wrap his limb around you? To feel your soft skin and coarse scales under his slimy arm. He was glad he decided to hunt today, searching for both prey - mer or fish, he isn’t picky about what he ate - and treasure. Hidden under a couple of tentacles, he dropped a golden coin a few feet away from him, his veil and the darkness helping him hide from your sight. 

His heart soared when he saw your eyes widen, a smile curling at the corners of your lips when you saw his little coin, diving towards him with enthusiasm. You were so close to him, hand stretching to grab the object with small, clawed fingers. When you held it in your hand, appraising it, he felt pride bubble in his chest, rising to his mind as he took this occasion to get his arm around you. You flinched when he wrapped the tip of his tentacle around your tail, squirming around in terror. In a panicked struggle to escape him, you dropped everything you’d collected and fled from him with a cry.

He watched you swim away from him through saddened eyes, hearing the thudding from the things you dropped, even the coin he gifted you. His eyes never left your fleeing body until you jumped over the edge, your tail the last thing he saw in that moment of self-deprivation and sadness. He hoped you’d come back, forgetting the fear of his sudden attention and daring fate once more.

He came the next day and the day after that, but you weren’t there, your precious smile and happy eyes were a memory in his mind, a fleeting moment in his gloomy world. He came back every day, hiding in the darkness, on the line between pitch darkness and light shading. He wished you were there every day, his eyes bleeding with optimism and hope for a single smidgen of bright colours. 

He hadn’t seen you in the following week. His shoulders slumped and caved into himself in sadness every time he came by, his blue eyes dulling bit by bit, that hopeful thinking drowning under realistic thinking and a pessimistic mind. Then he caught a glimpse of colour against the white sand. Before long, he saw arms filled with shiny items, trailing nearer to your side than his, but still chasing for treasures. 

If he wanted to approach you, to touch your soft-looking skin and run his arms over your scaled tail, he’d have to find a way to lure you in. He watched you the first few days, his tentacles curling on itself and burying himself in the sand, the hundreds of suckers searching for buried treasures to leave for you. When you turned your back to him, his unwinding arm left the things he found near the ridge for you to find and take. Little gifts for you, courting gifts he left and gifted you in an attempt to woo you. 

You were skittish and fleeing but took all his gifts with shaky smiles and grateful eyes, you knew he gave them to you. Of course, you did, you were his brave and smart little mermaid, approaching his offerings with apprehension - he felt hurt you feared and got nervous around him, but he understood you, his kind ate yours - and scanned the sand around you for any danger before crossing the line. He felt giddy when you added them to your stack, his mind-blowing with dreams and thoughts of you decorating your little cave with the things he gave you. On the ceiling, against the wall and on the ground or surfaces, you would use the things he gave you for your home. 

It sent him up the walls of his caves with joy and excitement, his limbs curling to rearrange his home to prepare for you, to accommodate your arrival to his big, lonely home.

It took a week or two - or so he thought, his perception of time was and had always been warped in some way - before you became comfortable enough to approach him, to let him curl his slimy tentacle around your tail and up your body. He could finally feel you and it made him ecstatic - he was over the moon every time he got to touch you. Little pokes, fleeting squeezes and feathery bites from his suckers on your flesh, all things he let himself taste before your coupling. A coupling between the prettiest and the cruellest beings in the ocean would unwind the seams that made your worlds, pulling the string that separated the beauty and the beast in this cursed universe.

Granted, you hesitated to cross into the pitch darkness of the abyss, dancing just a few inches from his abode with an armful of trinkets from König. Your slow and steady breath, words you blessed him with when you muttered to him, calling out to know if he was there and your grateful grin were a common, yet welcome sight in his daily swim. While a bit reluctant to join him on the other side, you eventually swam across, your eyes melting into the black before you. You were unseeing as much as you were blind, if not for the guiding palm of the Eldritch creature that you befriended and the shine of treasure you saw around him. 

You wished you could see anything but the gleam of treasure and the black mist of the abyss, your hand wandered over his, searching for his body, to feel the one who’s been gifting you treasures. Your fingers trailed upwards, feeling the tightness of his muscles, the curves and hardness of his arms were sinful. You truly wished you could see him at this moment, but you kept at your advance, clawed fingers moving slowly with unbridled curiosity. When you reached his broad shoulders and well-pronounced chest, it rumbled, a purr coming from König. Its deep sound shook you with need, your tail enthusiastically moving back and forth as you listened to him. 

“Are you happy, Schatz?”

His voice was even better than his soft purrs, in a way that made you want to melt into his arms and never bother moving if he kept talking to you, the sound of the creature that gave you gifts and affection. König’s spine-chilling voice seemed like a mix of many voices, both soft and raspy, and both deep and smooth, but it was something you enjoyed, that you found yourself liking a bit too much. 

“Yes,” you breathed, eyes travelling skyward, towards the source of his voice.

Your breath caught in your throat, choking a gasp at the prettiest blues you’d seen staring down at you. They were majestic, gem-like with a pretty sheen that made them glow like a beacon of light. You wondered why you’d never seen them, seeing how bright his eyes were. They lit up his face, or the veil he wore over his face, showing the pale streak of makeshift tears down the incision he made for his eyes. You shamelessly admired him, unbothered by the lost puppy-like stare you gave him in your glowing beauty. 

You’d crossed a threshold, where a creature of light never dared to cross, stepping into the arms of an Old One and embracing their madness. Although you were oblivious to his intentions, the loud proclamation of his courting rituals and attempts of crying out his love - the Old One’s rituals and cultures were much of a mystery to those who didn’t study them, much of a taboo for anyone outside of delusion and greed - he hadn’t refrained from his deliberate show that would be nearly shameful and embarrassing to others of his kind. 

Some wouldn’t bother with such frivolous acts: confessions from the deepest part of their dark soul, proclamation of love and undying adoration, or having to scavenge for gifts - offerings - to the subject of their attention. His kind took and took, reaching for that small glimmer of hope and beauty and corrupted it, bending it to their liking and building something from the ashes. It wouldn’t - would never - be the same as they were before, but that was how the Old Ones liked it: control, corruption, ruin, madness and power.

König wouldn’t do that, he wanted to cherish you, add to what you were and watch it bloom like those bioluminescent creatures in the abyss; even against his creator’s wishes. He’ll put you on the highest pedestal he has, eternally imprinting the image of you as his most precious treasure into his mind. You’ll be a thing of miracles, a thing of blessings, a thing of new beginnings. He wanted all and everything with you, but he’d have to take it slow, to coax you into this redundant pattern that ensured your trust and comfort and have you follow him of your own volition. 

He doesn’t mind waiting, he’s had hundreds of years of sitting and waiting, patience was a virtue he grew to learn, to hold in his giant palm and clutch like a gift from the ever-growing, chaotic universe. He can wait and plan, so he will, König will lay down his plan and wait until he can bring it to reality.

Wait he did, for you to grow comfortable enough to follow him deeper and let him pull you in from your side. It took you a month of back and forth, squirming around your infatuation with König and exchanging trinkets, words and fleeting kisses with him. He adored your little giggles when he traced your sides with a bolt tentacle, curling under your plush tits and the tip sliding under your strap. He loved the pretty shells you gave him, cleaned from sand and any barnacles, it showed him how much time you spent on it for him. His heart bloomed and swelled to impossible heights when you pecked his lips, giving him shy and gentle kisses that he grew addicted to. 

You were so sweet and so soft, your lips the taste of heaven for a creature of madness. Your hands were gentle like a cool balm over a burn, soothing his wild thoughts. Your little gifts for him - reciprocating his affection - were currently the most important things in his cave, a sign of your love and devotion. It made him wonder what would you let him do once you gave yourself to him. Would you succumb to the everlasting pleasures he could give you, or would you demand to help him take care of his own in a mutual haze? He couldn’t help himself, letting his chaotic mind conjure the most absurd and erotic dreams, his body vibrating with excitement; and now, at the peak of your trust in him, he watched his plan - a well-placed trap - come to fruition. 

“Come, Schatz,” he beckoned you forward, his burly arm stretching to coax you to follow him, holding out his open palm to you. “I have something I want to show you. Pretty things.”

Without a thought, to question his intentions or to ask why he couldn’t have bought them for you like he usually did, you took his hand and let his fingers curl over yours, intertwining your smaller digits to his as he pulled you to his chest. His embrace was as safe and pleasant as the last one - yesterday - and caused a flurry of emotions to erupt in your chest, he was warm in the cool darkness, loving in all the ways you could think. You could close your eyes and imagine a smile rippling across his face with joyfully squinted eyes peering down at you. 

Held against his chest, his other arm wrapped around your waist with a firm squeeze of his hand where your skin turned to scales. He whispered sweet promises, words of encouragement to see the way to his home and excited explanations of what awaited you. Pretty things, he said, you knew what he meant - at least you think you did - you shared much in common, and pretty things were something you both agreed on: shiny metals, interesting trinkets, shimmering shells or finely-minted coins. All things humans valued before throwing away; one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. 

How unfortunate that you couldn’t see in the dark, yet how fortunate you wouldn’t know the way back, it was something he relied on heavily to keep you, if you didn’t know how to navigate in this utter blindness, there were no risks of you trying to escape his caring hand. You were smart, you wouldn’t simply venture off without knowing where to go and how to see, especially with how vast his territory was and how dangerous it was. He shared his home with other simple-minded animals, sharks, fishes, eels and any other abyssal creature that lived and depended on the dark to live. 

Your innocent curiosity about the things he deemed pretty enough to hoard made his heartbeat, that addicting feeling he got from touching you, kissing you and speaking to you. Even if the deeper he went, the colder it became, you never once complained, your wide eyes and grinning face were the only thing you gave him. He was truly relieved to know that you were patient and understanding of his home, not one hiss or pout while you shook and clung to him, depending on him for warmth. He liked that, to see you rely on him so much. 

“We’re here, mein Liebling,” he hushed, cradling your face as he dove down, through the entrance of his cave. He shielded your fragile body with his many arms, protecting you from the rush of water current flowing against him. He chose this one to build his nest, using the strong current as a natural barrier against weaker creatures. 

When the waters calmed to a still, he loosened his hold on you, unravelling his arms to let you explore the many passages and alcoves in his home. To accommodate you, he strung up bioluminescent flora, using them as light to find your way around, with silken algae over a few rocks to mimic the beds mers slept in and a few other things that he thought you’d need: a mirror, a few floating plants to add to its mystical beauty and clusters of soft materials in nearly every room. 

He let you wander, your tail flapping back and forth to lead you down the long hall and explore the many rooms. He used a room to sleep, one as a pantry and storage, and another one to hold his hoard, but he had a lot of empty and unused space, more than enough for you and your children to thrive. He wanted to let you roam at your own pace, but he had something to show you, something he was proud of making. 

He pulled you from your little cloud of joy, wrapping an arm around you, his sticky suckers latching onto you as he coaxed you his way. Only then had you taken the time to admire König under blue light, cheeks warm with a burning flush and doe-like eyes staring at the naked expense of his hard abdomen, stomach sculpted to perfection that had Adonis shying away. His arms were big and round, muscles straining the scarred skin with delicious appeal. 

Downwards, following the sharp dip of his navel, were dozens of dark tentacles lined with round, pulsing suckers. Like an octopus, they were covered in a slimy sheen, every limb flexible and able to move independently. The lower ones were thick and soft, acting as a cover for whatever he hid beneath them, while some were thinner, whose source came from under his veil. Those, however, were a mix of normal and horrific tentacles, some had eyes replacing the usual suckers, tinted in the same colour as his irises, that glowing, pale blue. 

It made your body heat up, fingers tingling with nerves - or was it? When faced with something you found appealing, it’d be natural to feel flustered, no? König thought so, that’s how he spent the first days reacting to you, heating up to a bothersome flush to everything you did. He watched your awed stare, that daydreaming haze in your eyes when you looked him over, his whole body clear under the gentle light in his cave. 

“This way.”

Without making your gaze leave his figure, he drew you in, heading towards his biggest room where he caught and strung everything to fit his pleasure and mood. It was somewhere deeper into the system with walls strong and sturdy, and the round ceiling higher than the other rooms. On one side was a pile of golden objects of all shades, light yellow to a darkish gold, nearly bronze; on the other was a mix of pretty silver things and metallic black objects, rusted by age and the salty ocean; and on another, the smallest of them all, comprised of a few dozens of colourful shells and corals frozen in time that you’d given him. 

He saw your chest expand, your smile growing brighter and brighter at the pile of gifts you gave him, your bubbly laugh as you swam towards it, twirling around it proudly. You looked around the room, admiring his large collection and how it seemed to spill down every pile in an attempt to reach the other one, forming a protective ring around your presents, but always coming back to the bright pink, blue and yellow shells. You were happy and appreciative of the time he spent working and arranging his hoard. If he could, he’d preen and purr to you, to show just how much your proud smile meant to him, watching you appraise his work was satisfying. 

He already felt like things were falling into place perfectly, he could see the life he had envisioned with you coming to life, the little intricacies that popped into his mind seeming too appealing. His dreams were slowly becoming a reality, the things that he could only imagine were now tangible to his hands, and the future he salivated at was so, so close that he could sink his teeth into its flesh. 

He knew it. He knew it when he watched you swim to him with that big, adorable smile on your face, that it was in his hands. He could see it now, how his lonely cave would be filled with life and laughter, children with a mix of your beauty and his madness chasing one another between the many openings and your round, swollen stomach welcoming another of your children to the world. That was all he could think of while he cradled you in his arms, his tentacles latching to your tail and back. 

“You’re happy, ja?”

Next

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @candlewitch-cryptic @im-making-an-effort @0alk0msan 

[thoughtssvt]

adventures of sugar daddy nanami kento and his frugal sugar baby [ pt. 2 ]

nanami kento x reader ; fluff & humor ; nsfw joke | [ pt. 1 ]

MDNI — 18+ interactions only

A/N : it's implied that reader is still attending school, whether that be college undergrad or grad is up to you; tldr: reader is over the age of 18

"darling, are you busy right now?" kento's voice dripped from the speaker of your phone like thick honey.

"nope, go ahead," you confirm that you have time to talk as you wipe the sweat off your brow, the summer sun and scalding water making your body temperature rise.

you could practically hear kento's brows furrow, "are you sure? you sound a distance away and I can hear the water running," he said suspiciously.

you cringed, holding your breath as you slowly slid the plate onto the rack only to cringe at the sharp hiss of ceramic skidding against metal.

"I thought you started using the dish washer," kento sighed, the creak of his office chair putting the image of a disappointed kento leaning back in his chair in your head.

"I don't trust it, kento!" you cried dramatically. you would've clutched at your heart if your hands weren't soaking, sparkling glasses weeping on the rack at the mere thought of being thrown in satan's machine.

a staccato sigh and your muffled chuckles filled the kitchen. "anyway," kento continued, "I was wondering if you had the energy for something public." he asked, always considerate of your social battery.

you blotted your hands against the hand towel that hung from the oven door's handle, humming happily as you reached for the nice hand lotion kento had gotten for you, worried about the state of your hands considering the temperature of the water you habitually used. "why? is this some secret exhibition sex club thing that you rich people have?" you teased.

"I want to treat you to an outing since you refuse to do it yourself," kento poked back, speeding passed your joke, already used to your antics.

"oh, not denying it? does it actually exist?" your eyes widened in feigned suspicion, a weak attempt at changing the subject.

"do you know why I started looking for a sugar baby?" kento continued. you sucked in a breath only to be cut off, "nevermind... don't answer that." kento sighed, making you chuckle. "I wanted someone to enjoy spending my money. I lost that kind of excitement a long time ago, so you don't have to hold back. you can ask me for anything that will make you happy, okay?" he explained, sincerity oozing from his voice.

you nodded as you listened, ears perking up towards the end. "anything?" you parroted drawn out and timid.

౨ৎ

kento scrubbed his hands against his scalp, blond locks effectively spiking in every direction. you were both sat next to each other at the dining table, crowding around your laptop-- the one you'd refused to replace, deadset on it lasting you at least another four years despite the volume the fans worked being loud enough to wake kento from his sleep. kento sat defeated, chin digging into his palm as he stared into the abyss while you wore a gleaming smile on your face, excitedly knocking against the table as you waited for your prehistoric machine to load.

once the confirmation screen popped up you wrapped your arm around kento's, pulling him in close. "you were right, kento! spending all this money is fun!" you chimed, wiggling like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

kento stared at you with glassy eyes. "I don't know what to do to make you understand," he croaked. "was this really fun for you?" he softened as he took in your features and how much more energized you seemed after just a few clicks.

when he got home from work you'd dragged him to the table, pulling up the tragic student loan debt page, eagerly asking him if it was really okay to spend this much all at once. he'd paid off your loans and the remaining balance of your current semester. you felt like you were floating, to say the least.

kento was more than happy to pay these debts off, but he'd assumed that if you had any they would've been your first priority, not a scrubdaddy and a dish rack. he deflated once again at the mere memory.

you chuckled fondly at the display, reaching to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. "fine, fine. let's go."

his brows knit tightly as you input the address into his phone, sticking it to the dash before securing your seatbelt. you had him park a bit away from a 7-eleven. he followed you hesitantly, watching as you hummed quietly to yourself, a bounce in our step as the two of you took a short walk down to akihabara station. you stopped with your arms spread in a grandiose gesture, the wall behind you stacked floor to ceiling with gashapon machines.

"i've always wanted to try one of these, but the probability that I would get what I wanted on my first try was always slim." you explained as your eyes scanned the wall for a specific capsule series. you held your palm open asking for coins which kento handed to you with a gentle smile.

he watched you for who knows how long. the capsules kept coming, countless duplicates filling his arms. and it was worth it to see your smile, bright and unashamed, every time you popped a capsule open.

"ah, finally!" you cheered as you turned to kento, a small plastic sandwich in the palm of your hand, the same sandwich he got everyday for lunch.

his heart overflowed, spreading heat across his chest. you'd gone through all that work just to get his sandwich. even given the opportunity to do something for yourself you still thought of others, but you were happy and that was enough for him.

"come, come! I think I saw one that had a desk like the one in your office." you beamed, eyes busy searching for the machine with every intention to set these figures up in the corner of your own desk. somewhere along the way kento left you for a moment just to stop by a store for a bag, dumping all your gachas in it until you got exactly what you were looking for. a smile plastered on his face as you continuously loaded coins into the machine.

he rests a hand on your thigh on the drive home, pinching it just enough to grab your attention. "thank you," he whispers, bringing your hand to his face to kiss at your knuckles. thank you for showing him all the small happiness the world had. he had a lot to learn from you.

part 1 | sugar daddy kento masterlist | jjk men x reader masterlist

divider by @tyuniwa

tag list : @that-goth-bisexual @yannauauau

[dragonsholygrail]

Absolutely wild thought because I’m still feeling out of it and in the mood for unique monster combinations…

Imagine how good sex would be between Snail Hybrid bf and you, his Slime Monster gf.

Snail Hybrid bf loves to use his slime to lubricate his dick, making sure you can always take his thick length. Something within you heats up at the sight of it, arousal flooding your panties. Only able to think about how it may be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. But Snail Hybrid bf doesn’t stop there as he takes his cock and runs it along your slit, combining your slime with his until you don’t know where he ends and you begin.

When he finally stops torturing you long enough, though he’d argue he’s just taking his time with your hot body, he slides his cock inside with an easy glide. The wet squelch of your hips smacking together has you shivering. You didn’t think you could be more on edge than when Snail Hybrid bf was teasing you but his slow thrusts make you borderline insane.

Ensuring you feel every single thick vein along his dick rub against your walls, igniting your nerves, and making your body quiver with need. The more aroused you both get the more slime you both produce, leading to the most erotic and messiest sex of your life. Slime oozes out of your pussy and dribbles down his cock with every hard jerk of his hips. The warm wetness causing such a mess between your twitching bodies.

Your orgasm builds at a painful rate, Snail Hybrid bf ensuring the pressure in your belly builds steadily without completely fading, yet also not giving you the rough fuck you think you want. Before you know it though, your body is tensing as you slowly tip off the edge and dive head first into the abyss of pleasure.

Causing your orgasm to burst out of you like a tidal. You swear you’ve never cum harder in your entire life as your mind floats away and the aftershocks continue to roll through you in endless waves of pleasure. Snail Hybrid bf only making it even more intense as he cums soon after, just as slowly as everything else about him. Which forces you to feel each spurt of his hot semen splash deep inside of you until another mini-orgasm knocks into you and takes your breath away.

Snail Hybrid bf’s body rocks into you, stimulating you both and providing a closeness you both endlessly crave. Looking down at your body, you can both see through your slime body the beautiful combination of your bf’s slime, your slime, and your mixed release buried inside of you.

You both can also see how the sight alone gets Snail Hybrid bf hard all over again. Ready to go again and make sure that this time you don’t come back from the brink of insanity.

[tteokdoroki]

the consequences of constellations izuku midoriya ── ᡣ𐭩 ˙ ̟🩰 !!

⋆˙ᝰ about ! you’re in love with your best friend and you’re sleeping with him too… so you count the constellation-like freckles on his back to cope with the idea that he doesn’t love you in the same way. ( 2K )

warnings ! minors blank and ageless blogs do not interact. nsfw, suggestive, smut, angst. characters aged up to 20s, friends with benefits, unrequited love, mutual pining sorta, experimental piece, i wanted to play around with metaphors to do with space, fem!reader, pro hero!deku.

how do you always end up back here?

the answer remains a mystery to you, really. out of all the things that human-kind are capable of, their powers and prettiness, their strength and their stamina — even their knowledge used to invent the space shuttle that traverses the wonders of the uncharted starry abyss…and you still end up here. 

you always end up in the same place — amongst the crumpled linen of pro hero deku’s one bedroom condo. it’s high up enough that it just touches the skyline, it dips past the surface of powder blue skies into the inky black canvas of night to which you find yourself falling victim to sinful touches and muted whispers of pleasure.

it’s the same every time; izuku calls and you answer without hesitation — come rain or shine. you’ll often tumble past the threshold of his apartment with regret and pain pushed to the back of your mind because you’d much rather kiss him and taste the cigarette ash on his tongue in the moment than think logically or have some sense about you. in your world, there’s no better feeling in the world than deku’s masterful, scarred hands spanning out against the base of hour spine or napping out your curves. nothing beats the euphoric high you get from his hips smacking against yours almost in tune with the beat of his heart. 

he pulls you into his orbit. he places himself at the centre of your universe. he fills you up both physically and mentally to the point where every inch of your body and every corner of your heart is overcome with a scorching need for izuku midoriya, like you’ve been engulfed by the sun, it tingles at the tips of your toes and fingers to the top of your head. when he moans your name after every orgasm you share together desire lights up within you like a solar flare — you feel special, desired and maybe even loved.

but this is just sex.

it’s always been just sex, especially to izuku.

there’s a risk in allowing yourself to believe it could ever be anything more, and yet, you can’t stop yourself from indulging in this sweet fantasy every time you end up tangled in the pro hero’s expensive sheets. how could you not when he fucks you like you’re the only woman he’s ever loved. 

playing pretend in your head while he sends shooting stars of ecstasy across your line of sight.

shame and regret always hits you like a truck right after — forcing you to deal with the derailing reality that is loving someone who doesn’t want you back and sleeping with them just to get close enough to that feeling of adoration. it’s bad in the morning, but worse at night after deku has cleaned you up with a tender touch and tucked you in for some sleep — rolled onto his side as his own breathing evens out and his consciousness floats away into the depths of deep, empty space. 

you think that he’s still sleeping when the constellations of honey brown freckles on his back begin to blur and your vision swims from unshed tears and you curl in on yourself. claw marks and crescent moons from your perfectly trimmed nails have left their mark on his golden skin, etched between sun-spotted freckles and a collection of faded battle scars — if you look close enough, one might mistake the surface level wounds you’ve left on deku’s body as an attempt at scratching through the space-time continuum to be closer to him. 

izuku stays awake, hoping that you’ll find the strength to get up and leave him so that he doesn’t  have to turn around and pretend to love you again. though, there’s a selfish wish rooted in the back of his mind, longing for you to stay. for you to play make believe for a little longer, to wish upon the North Star and beg for some kind of grace from god — hoping that izuku midoriya will love you some way, somehow. 

he’ll fake it for as long as he can, if it means being the only person to touch you and hold you and kiss you. he’ll pretend to rip every star in the sky for you and breathe false affection past your lips with every kiss if it means he can replace the pain in your lungs and help you breathe a little easier. because in his own twisted way, izuku cares about your feelings…at least to some degree. he’d rather pretend than end things right here, right now. maybe that’s his saviour complex and his instinctual, dire need to save people who doesn��t need saving. 

maybe it’s because this little arrangement has gone on for far too long, to the point where he can’t tell what hurts you or what doesn’t.

when the bulking pro hero shifts beneath the linen sheets, you hand bolts out to grab him — and, as if you’re protecting the embers of a dying flame, a fading star between your fingers, you pull him back into your chest. grasping onto him, holding out for something. you’re afraid that if you let go, izuku will disappear into space’s abyss and you might never get to have him like this again. another selfish wish. this time from you, not from him. 

don’t go. you want to tell him. don’t fizzle away. you want to say. you know that it’s wrong to want to keep someone you can’t, who won’t love you, around. it’s testament to how much respect you have for yourself, how much self worth you have. which, from the looks of it, is little to none. you feel like you might die without izuku, even if what you have of him is so little. a plant with a crane its neck reaching for even the tiniest bit of sunlight to grow… that’s how you feel about izuku’s…affections for you. even if it’s not real love, you still yearn for it and blossom underneath it. even if you should let him go because you love him, you don’t want to.

out of fear that he may not come back. 

when izuku says your name, whispers it into the black hole of the night — he treats it as if it’s made of gold. the syllables heavy on his tongue, weighing it down with a force of gravity. “are you awake?” he adds, despite feeling the shake of your limbs behind him from crying. he speaks slow and tender, the gravel of the early morning still in his voice. 

your breath hitches warmly against his bare back like a mist over his sun spotted freckles. “no.” a dishonest answer that would have given you away instantly had the evergreen haired hero not already been up and listening to you cry. you sound strained, stuffy and he knows your pretty eyes are probably a putrid red and that there’s snot stains left in tracks on his satin sheets. and maybe, if he loved you like he should — this wouldn’t have happened, he wouldn’t feel so much guilt to the point where he feels sick to his stomach.

loving you is dangerous territory, like a trip to the uncharted parts of deep dark space. the concept alone is terrifying enough to send icy blood through izuku midoriya’s veins where he’s usually so hopeful and fearless. if he lets himself, for even a second, fall in love with you — there would be a chance your life would change for the worse, a chance that you wouldn’t be able to bare the long nights without him or the weeks where he’s gone. you hardly see deku now, how would you cope when he’s finally yours but too far away from you to touch. you could be in the same bed and he would still be light years away, galaxies ahead of your own train of thought because he is constantly thinking of who and how to save next.

not to mention the very fact that his existence is a threat to your livelihood, with villains lurking around every corner just waiting for a chance to make the number one weak…

…loving izuku midoriya would be like standing still in the middle of a hurricane on jupiter. 

no one would be able to withstand the largest storm in the universe, not even you, and the strength you find in loving izuku. 

still, you’re a liar and izuku knows it. even if he’s not supposed to. the bed creaks beneath his weight as he rolls over to face you, freckled cheek sinking into the cotton hills on his pillows as he finally sets his emerald sights on you. “you must be dreaming then,” he laughs fondly through his nose when he speaks, bringing a thumb up from underneath the duvet to swipe away your drying tears. the ones you tried so desperately to hide. water doesn’t fall in out space, it drifts endlessly and becomes a liquid with no form. izuku wishes you weren’t crying over him. 

shrugging, you lean into the man’s touch, letting deku cup your cheeks and trace your smile lines that don’t seem so smiley anymore. the early morning moonlight ( the sun has yet to rise ), illuminates the stars in his mossy eyes that practically plead for you to let go, and your heart lurches painfully. he feels sorry for you. “i hope so.” comes your tired whisper. embarrassed and heartbroken, you look away and tuck your face under the duvet — chin brushing your naked shoulders, skin bare and bitten and bruised from the night before. “if i am, i don’t want to wake up.” 

“what happens in your dreams?” capturing your chin between his fingers, izuku tilts your gaze over to him — inquisitive, cautious as if you’re an alien life form and he’s trying his best not to scare you away. he doesn’t quite understand you, why you keep returning to him , only to find yourself naked, vulnerable and heartbroken the next day. 

“you love me back, i think. we’re more than what we are right now.”

bitter selfishness tacks itself to the back of your throat like bile — you know that you’re being unkind and greedy to izuku by voicing your thoughts out loud, begging him for even the tiniest slither of love but what’s worse is the lack of compassion for yourself. the endless torture you inflict on your being just waiting for the number one hero to maybe love you back. 

in away, it makes you deserving of one another. whatever it is that the two of you have is no healthier than a pack of cheap cigarettes from the combini at the top of the road. a nicotine addiction that neither of you seem to be able to quit. humming into the moonlit void, deku brushes a thumb over your streaked, pudgy cheek — tracing the tear stains and the tracks left by the lines in the pillowcase. 

his eyes shimmer like the Milky Way on a clear night as he looks at you, strands of longing twisting within the vibrant green flecks in midoriya’s eyes. it must be lonely for him out there — he’s in another universe of his own and you can hardly compare to or comprehend it. “are you still dreaming?” he asks.

reaching up, you grab his wrist from underneath the covers — feeling his pulse beat steadily underneath the pad of your thumb. “i hope so.” you repeat your words from earlier, lashes fluttering against your cheeks — heart pounding. 

“then i’ll love you how you like,” midoriya agrees, masking his sadness with his signature hero smile. the one he uses to let the people he saves know that everything will be okay. even when it’s not. izuku treats you like a damsel in distress and maybe you are. you need saving from yourself, from him and he knows it. you both do. “at least until you wake up.” 

nodding, you close your eyes and lock off the rest of your senses — listening to only the sounds your steady breathing mingling in your own personal pocket of space. time freezes for the two of you, you don’t know how many light years it’s been before you speak again — but izuku’s warmth is still there, still enveloping you like the brilliant rays of the sun at the centre of your universe. he doesn’t dare cast you out into the icy cold of space. not yet.

“then i’ll try to keep dreaming, i’m not ready to wake up just yet.” comes your quiet voice as you lean forward to press your forehead against izuku’s freckled one.

not yet.

he exhales, deep and sad, but cups your face a little tighter and draws you in a little closer. “me either, not yet.” 

not yet. together, wrapped up in one another, the two of you decide that you'll stay lost in the web of constellations for a little bit longer. 

not yet.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[stevie-petey]

episode two: the mall rats

Steve lazily drapes an arm over you, which Dustin narrows his eyes at. “Yeah, I mean. Sure. It’s not really a good idea for me, though. I gotta keep in shape for the ladies.” “Ugh,” you scoff in disgust at Steve’s words and shrug his arm off of you before scooting away from him. Sometimes you forget how much of an idiot he can be. That he used to wear the crown of King Steve. You turn slightly away from him and finish eating your ice cream, annoyed and slightly hurt, though you know you have no right to be. It’s not like you’re with Steve, anyways.

Summary: dreams are weird, billy is a hitchhiker, and hopper flirts with joyce in front of you (youre not sure which is scarier), somehow robin knows russian and has genius ears, you get caught in an awkward breakup showdown, and you shamefully are shocked when you discover that hawkins is anything but normal. you would think youd be a pro at this already, but at least steve is hot and really good at sneaking through windows.

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: swearing, allusions to violence, fem!reader, use of y/n

Words: 13.2k

Before you swing in: hello !!! new chapter, i am so sorry for the wait :/ the end of the semester has been killer and ive been super busy with my lab job (i present at a conference friday ... pray for me). heres chapter 2, she somehow ended up being 13k words but lets ignore that for my own sanity !

-

There are dandelions all around you.

Their puffs of white surround you as the seeds dance in the air and settle atop of your head and tickle your cheek. They’re soft, reminiscent of the snow that encases you every winter in Hawkins and the days you used to chase Jonathan around in his backyard.

You’re barefoot in a field that you can’t quite place. The grass below you skims against your ankles as the dandelion seeds float towards the tops of the green. It’s a familiar landscape, something tells you that you’ve been here before, and the thought is almost reassuring to you.

The sun is warm against you and there’s someone in the distance. You open your mouth to call out to them, they feel as familiar as the landscape before you does, but when you try to speak, the dandelion seeds begin to swarm into your mouth. The puffs of white seem to turn into daggers in your throat as they cut your tongue and slice inside you as you struggle to breathe.

You try to scream, but nothing comes out. The dandelions now draw blood as they continue their malicious attack on you. You claw at your mouth and cower in the field, trying to flee from what’s attacking you, but the dandelions only follow as you try to call after the figure you saw in the distance.

Stumbling blindly through the grass, panic stricken and longing for the person who had once been at the top of the hill, your foot catches on a root and suddenly you’re falling. This time, you do scream, and the dandelion seeds spill from your mouth as you fall into an endless abyss.

“Y/N!” Your eyes fly open and your body shoots from your bed; you almost head butt Dustin in the process. He flinches back, startled by your violent reaction, and he puts his hands up in surrender and backs away. “Geesh, I was just trying to wake you up.”

It takes you a few moments to process that you are, in fact, awake. Your heartbeat is still pounding rapidly in your throat. You can still feel the dandelion seeds on your tongue and the millions of little cuts they left behind.

Dustin stares at you with slight concern in his eyes and you clear your throat, trying to rid the memory of your dream. That’s all it was. A dream.

Clearing your throat again, you try to calm yourself down. “Why are you in my room?”

“Like I said, I was trying to wake you up.” Your brother says as if you’re an idiot.

“But why?”

“Did you bang your head or something last night?” He gives you an odd look and you glare at him. “Cerebro caught a Russian code, remember? You promised we’d see Steve today to talk about it!”

You rub your eyes, exhausted. It’s taking longer than usual for your mind to wake up and process everything. “I know, I know… What time is it?”

“Eight, now get up and go get pretty for Steve so we can discuss how to become American heroes.” Dustin crosses his arms, silently daring you to argue.

“There was so much wrong with that sentence,” you groan, but reluctantly throw your blankets off of you and start pulling out random shorts and a t-shirt to wear. “You’re lucky it’s the weekend and I don’t work today.”

“Blah, blah, blah,” Dustin mocks you, tossing you a white t-shirt and removing the red one from your hands. “Steve likes you in white, now hurry up.”

Your mouth drops in shock, but your brother simply rolls his eyes at you and leaves your room so that you can get dressed.

“How does he even know that?” You whisper to yourself, now alone in your room.

–

Dustin bikes ahead of you as you make your way to Joyce’s store in Downtown Hawkins. He had complained when you told him that you needed to make a pitstop there before going to the mall.

“I haven’t seen Steve in a month!”

“And Mrs. Byers is close to losing her job at Melvald’s, so you can wait the extra five minute detour it takes to deliver her muffins to cheer her up.”

Your brother had tried to argue some more, but you simply shoved a fresh baked muffin in his mouth and began to bike away.

Now, as the two of you head towards Downtown, the early morning air fills your lungs and slowly wakes you up. It’s quiet, Hawkins isn’t quite awake yet in the early hour. Only the bees buzzing past your ear seem to be lively.

You watch Dustin up ahead and briefly marvel at how much bigger he seems to have gotten in the month he was away at camp. He looks older, more mature, no longer the baby brother your mom brought home fourteen years ago.

As you’re lost in your reminiscence, you almost miss the figure that stumbles along the side of the road.

“Dustin!” You yell at the boy, weary of whoever is up ahead. “Stop!”

He hears the fear in your voice and screeches his bike to a halt. Turning around, he checks to make sure you’re okay. “Did something happen?”

You stop next to him and discreetly point at the figure a few yards away. It seems to be a boy, maybe a teen your age, but he’s walking as if he’s in immense pain. “You see that?”

“Yeah,” Dustin squints and also seems unnerved by the person’s appearance. “Think it’s anything dangerous?”

“I don’t know…” Something feels familiar about the person. Their hair, the way it’s styled, reminds you of someone. You squint as well, your eyes catch on the person’s leather jacket and the expensive brand, there’s a faint outline of cigarettes in the pocket, and the sight fills your nose with the smoke that once choked you last winter. “I think it’s Billy.”

“Why is he walking on the side of the road?” Dustin makes a face. “I know he has a car, the bastard almost ran me and the party over on Halloween.”

You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and try to understand why you feel this tug within you to get closer to the teen. Billy is cruel, he is horrible, and the bruises he left on your neck took weeks to fully fade away. Yet there’s a concern within you as you watch him stumble, as if in some daze, and it's this worry that solidifies your decision. “Stay here.”

“What–” Dustin turns and sees that you’ve gotten back on your bike and are now pedaling towards Billy. “Y/N! Are you insane?”

“Stay here!” You order, not really understanding why you’re doing this either. “Just… Wait for my signal!”

Dustin curses, not at all liking this plan, but he listens. He tightens his grip on his bike’s handlebar and makes sure you never leave his line of sight in case you need him for backup.

As you approach Billy, you make sure to circle widely around him so that he sees you coming, before finally facing in front of him. You brake a few feet away from him, incredibly nervous for how he may react. You haven’t spoken to him since last winter, he had kept his promise to Max to leave you alone.

Billy barely seems to register that you’re in front of him. He stops as if he’s in a trance and blinks slowly at you. You notice the cut on his forehead, how there’s still fresh blood dripping from it, and something within you wants to tend to the wound. Then you notice the grime that covers his face and his jacket, and you begin to worry even more.

As you’re eying his disheveled appearance, Billy opens his mouth, and the action looks as if it takes all the energy within him to do so. “S–sweetheart?”

“Are you okay?” You ignore the nickname he gave you that makes your skin crawl. You’re more worried about his appearance. He’s sweating like crazy, almost as if he’s on drugs, and he’s paler than normal. His California tan is gone, his eyes are glazed over, he looks as if he isn’t really here with you right now.

It scares you. You’ve never seen him like this.

“‘M fine,” Billy slurs. He seems… off. More drawn into himself now, less sure of himself. Scared, even. It’s a strange sight to see: Billy Hargrove, alone and frightened, in the early morning of June. “I… I’m fine.”

His slurred words aren’t reassuring, and a part of you wants to offer him a ride on your bike. You assume he’s heading to the local pool to lifeguard, you know it’s where he spends most of his days, but you have Dustin with you and you’re still nervous around Billy.

The wounds he gave you may have healed, but some nights, when the nightmares are really bad, you wake up to his hands around your throat.

It feels wrong just leaving Billy like this, though. He’s still human, Max has slowly opened up to you about her abusive stepdad and the way he punches her brother. You know that Billy’s actions come from his hurt, but you don’t think you’re ready yet to forgive him. Not now, at least.

Reluctantly, you sigh and wave your hand to indicate to Dustin that he’s fine to start biking over. Billy doesn’t seem like a threat right now in his current state. When you see your brother start to pedal closer, you look back at Billy. “Listen, I know we aren’t… friends.”

Billy stares blankly at you, and you really hope that he can understand what you’re saying right now.

“But if you need anyone to talk to, about anything, come find me, okay?” You tell him, hesitantly placing a hand on his arm as you speak. However, when your skin makes contact with his, you flinch at how cold he is.

Before you can say anything else, Dustin finally catches up and brakes softly next to you. He looks nervously between you and Billy. “So… Uh. Ready to go, Y/N?”

“Yeah…” You pull away from Billy, your fingers almost numb from his cold skin, and spare him one last glance as you start to bike away. “Remember what I said, okay?”

Billy doesn’t say anything.

You and Dustin leave him stranded on the side of the road.

Neither one of you talk about this.

–

As usual, Downtown Hawkins is deserted when you and Dustin arrive at Melvald’s. The only two cars parked in front of the rundown store belong to Joyce and Hopper.

You hop off your bike and park it in the bike rack before carefully untying the container of muffins from the back. Dustin is slumped on top of his bike, silently complaining, and you wave a stern finger at him. “Wait here, okay? This will only take five minutes, I promise.”

“I’m telling Steve that you’re cheating on him with Mrs. Byers.”

“Not cheating if we aren’t together,” you quip, before opening the door to the store.

When you step inside the store, you’re greeted with Hopper obnoxiously yelling and jumping around as Joyce laughs and claps for him. Curious, you carefully side step the grown man and make your way over to the woman.

“Y/N!” Joyce lights up even more when she sees you, and then lets out a small cheer when she sees that you’re holding one of your signature baked goods containers. “Are those for me?”

“Always, Mrs. Byers.” You grin at her and set the container down. “They’re the muffins you really liked last week, thought I’d bake a special batch just for you.”

Hopper now joins you at the store’s counter in front of Joyce. He’s practically vibrating with his excited energy, so much so that he even smiles at you and claps a hand behind your back. “Kid, it’s like you knew we’d be celebrating a monumental occasion today.”

“What, did Jonathan finally wash his bedsheets?”

Joyce shakes her head and Hopper claps again, now grasping your shoulders and shakes you around. “No, even better! I got Mike out of my house!”

Through Joyce, you had learned all about Hopper’s utter disdain of Mike’s relationship with El. He has spent every day at their cabin since getting together, and even you have had to pry the girl away from Mike a few times to hang out with her. It’s hard bonding with El when Mike is breathing down your neck.

You’re all for young love, you think they’re adorable together, but christ. You understand Hopper’s frustration.

“Actually,” you’re still being shaken by the man. “That does sound better. How’d ya do it?”

Hearing your question, Hopper thankfully stops shaking your shoulders and now happily points at Joyce. “It was all her. I’m the puppet, she’s the master. Joyce gave me a brilliant script to say to the kid.”

“So you remembered everything?” Joyce asks, now unwrapping one of your muffins with glee.

“Yeah… well,” Hopper pauses. “I mean, I had to improvise a little bit, you know?”

You wince. “Oh, that’s never good.”

He glares at you but continues to explain. “It turns out that getting to Mike was the key.”

His words only make you wince again, and you look at Joyce. She meets your eye and the two of you silently agree that something doesn’t sound right here. She questions Hopper further. “And you didn’t yell at him?”

Hopper hesitates, which you expected. “I’ll… tell you everything over dinner.”

“Okay!” You step in between the adults and wave your arms out, preventing whatever else is about to be said. “I’m still here, let’s remember that.”

The chief glares at you again and narrows his eyes. “You’re right, you are still here. Why are you still here?”

“Because Mrs. Byers loves me and I baked her delicious muffins.” You deadpan, which Joyce chuckles at. “And while I’m sure whatever she told you to say to Mike was lovely, I have my doubts that you actually listened.”

“She’s got a point, Hop.” Joyce voices.

Hopper sighs at you both. “Okay, maybe I said some things, haven’t told El the whole truth, but what else was I supposed to do?”

“Not lie to kids?” Crossing your arms, you make a face at the man.

“Easy for you to say, little miss Hawkins’ sweetheart.” Hopper scoffs at you. “Got any better advice?”

You roll your eyes at his words. You understand that the man is still grappling with being a father again, he’s never been one to handle feelings any better, so you spare him some pity and try to be honest with him, say what he needs to hear. “Look, all I’m saying is that the best thing my deadbeat father ever did was teach me kindness, and it broke my heart when he was dishonest in the end. Just, don’t be that way with El, okay?”

Hopper is quiet as your words hang in the air.

Joyce is quiet as well, looking between you and the chief with a fondness in her eyes. It’s not often she sees someone render Hopper speechless, and she knows that it’s one of the many things she loves the most about your relationship with him. Though she would never tell you this, she thinks that Hopper secretly has his own fondness for you as well.

When the silence stretches for an uncomfortably long amount of time, you clear your throat and change the subject. “Well! This was fun, happy we did this.”

Hopper snorts, relieved you’re moving on as well. “Get lost, kid.”

“Gladly.” You turn back to Joyce and press a swift kiss to her cheek. “I’ll see you later, Mrs. Byers!”

Joyce says goodbye as well, and when you’ve left the store, she faces Hopper with a slight smirk. “She’s a good kid, Hop.”

“She is,” he agrees, looking down at his shoes. He will never admit this to anyone else, but to Joyce he knows his words are safe. “She’s the best of ‘em.”

–

When you finally get to the mall, Dustin basically dumps his bike in a spot next to a disgruntled older couple and runs before you can even slow down. He’s so lost in his excitement to see Steve as he runs towards Scoops and leaves you to deal with his bike and the couple alone, which you groan at.

“He acts like it’s been a year,” you grumble, finally hopping off your own bike to grab Dustin’s and secure them both to a nearby rack. After mumbling a quick apology to the couple your brother practically threw a bike at, you run after him inside.

By the time you catch up, Dustin has just entered Scoops and is talking to Robin. You approach, curious to see how this event will unfold. Robin hasn’t met your brother yet, and you have a feeling that his abrasive nature will either make her his biggest fan or absolutely hate him.

It’s the Henderson charm, really.

“I’m Dustin,” your brother introduces himself as you come to stand next to him. When he notices your arrival, he motions towards you and winks at Robin. “I’m sure Y/N has told you all about me.”

Robin raises her eyebrows at the kid, and you try to cover a giggle with a cough. “I’m Robin. I’m sure Y/N has told you a lot about me.”

“I probably have,” shrug, knowing you always talk about the people you love. When Robin and Dustin both look at you with confused faces, you quickly clarify, “I’ve talked about you both, I mean.”

“Can we cut the chit chat?” Dustin asks, now annoyed by how long this conversation is taking. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Robin, but uh. Is he here?”

“Is who here?” Robin looks over at you for help, but before you can prepare her for the inevitable storm of Steve’s bizarre and endearing friendship with Dustin, the older teen’s body comes crashing through the backdoor and his sneakers squeak loudly against the tile.

“Hendersons!” Steve raises his arms in the air in greeting, an ecstatic smile on his face when he sees both you and Dustin standing in Scoops Ahoy. You and your brother start to laugh as Steve now dances around, cheering and gleeful. “You’re both here! Little Henderson is back!”

“I’m back!” Dustin cheers. “And you got the job!”

Steve is beaming and his smile is probably one of the happiest you’ve seen cross his pretty face. He had complained about missing Dustin the entire month he had been gone, moaning and groaning about how he was bored at your house now that he didn’t have Dustin to shoo away.

“I got the job!” Steve mimes playing the trumpet before he starts his intricate and dumb handshake with Dustin.

It’s a complicated process, with fist bumps and pretend lightsaber death. They had come up with it during a particularly boring snow day at your house. You watched as they thought up the handshake while you made cocoa for everyone, heart swelling as Steve was so patient with your brother and encouraged his nerdy little habits.

It had taken them almost the entire day to create what they deemed “the perfect handshake”, and as they go through it once more in Scoops Ahoy, you feel the same swelling in your chest as you did the very first time you saw them come up with the handshake.

While you gaze fondly at Dustin and Steve, Robin stands next to you and watches in horror. As Steve pretends to spew his guts everywhere, the girl leans over to you and says, “Is this what you deal with every day?”

“Yeah,” you can’t help but smile softly at the two boys. You missed seeing them together, more than you thought you had.

Robin sees the dreamy look in your eyes as you stare at Steve and she gags. Unhappy with how this day is looking, she turns to him. “How many children are you friends with?”

Steve’s smile falls and he sighs in defeat. Wordlessly he points at Robin as he looks at Dustin and raises his eyebrows in an exasperated manner. He’s had to deal with Robin’s teasing all summer, and Dustin seems to catch onto what he’s trying to tell him, so he quickly changes the subject. “Sorry we got here so late, man. Y/N insisted on gossiping with Mrs. Byers before coming here.”

“I spoke with her for five minutes.” You roll your eyes at him.

“Yeah, five minutes too long.”

“Your breath reeks.”

“You have a pimple on your chin.”

You gasp and quickly cover your face. “I do not–”

“This is fascinating,” Robin whispers as she looks between you and Dustin. “It’s like there’s two Y/Ns.”

Steve, having heard Robin, laughs. His smile had returned to his face as he watched you interact with your brother. “They’re reunited for one day and are already at each other’s throats.”

“Got a month of insults to catch up on,” you flick Steve, who winces and rubs his nose, offended.

Dustin suddenly straightens up. “Speaking of catching up…” He looks at you and tries to subtly motion over at Steve, mouthing “Russians!”, and being everything but discrete.

Steve frowns, unsure what’s happening, but you’re too busy worrying about revealing anything to Robin; she’s scarily good at reading people. Looking wearily at her, you clear your throat and tug at Dustin’s shirt. “C’mon, why don’t we get some ice cream and tell Steve about what you built at camp?”

Again Steve frowns. He had been hoping to share a sundae with you, not talk about boring science stuff with your brother. “Why do I wanna hear about some weird nerd tech–”

“Because you promised me free ice cream last night, when we called.” You interrupt, silently pleading with him to catch onto what you’re saying. “Remember?”

Something shifts within Steve’s eyes and his carefree expression now darkens. He remembers the fear in your voice last night over the phone, how you had asked him to tell you stories to fall asleep to. Clearing his throat, Steve nods and plays along. “Oh, how could I forget? Take Dustin to your booth and I’ll whip up some sundaes.”

You smile at him, thankful as always for how attuned to you he is, before you say a quick goodbye to Robin and tug your brother over to where you normally sit. Once you’re sure Robin isn’t listening, you yank at the boy. “Real subtle back there, doofus.”

“Oh, like Robin would know what Russians could mean.” Dustin grumbles as he slides into your designated booth. His hand catches on something in the seat and he tugs at it, pulling out an old Captain America comic. Holding it up, he narrows his eyes at you. “You really made a home here, huh?”

“Sure did,” you prop your feet up and dig out the Spider-Man comic you had been reading a few days ago. “The ice cream is surprisingly good here.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the ice cream is the reason you’re always here.” Dustin doesn’t even want to imagine how many hours you’ve spent in this cheesy ice cream parlor ogling over Steve. Maybe it’s a good thing he was gone most of the summer.

You flip to the last page you left off on and ignore Dustin’s insinuation. “Hey, free ice cream is free ice cream.”

“Can’t argue with you there.” Steve arrives and places down two giant sundaes onto the table. He slides next to you into the booth with a grand flourish. “Tada!”

Dustin wastes no time digging into his ice cream, making obnoxious noises as he shoves the food into his mouth. You cringe, disgusted that you’re related to him, but Steve kisses your cheek when the kid isn’t looking, and you can’t help but smile. Sneaking your own kiss to his cheek, you thank him. “You’re getting really good at whipping up sundaes, Steve.”

He preens at your praise. “It’s all in the forearms, ya know?” He makes a show out of rolling up his sleeves to show off his arms, which you giggle at with a slight flush on your face. Despite working inside all day, Steve has a nice sun kissed tan, which compliments how long his hair has gotten this summer.

Between his short Scoops Ahoy shorts and his hair streaked with sunlight, summer looks good on Steve.

In between bites of his ice cream, Dustin lifts his head up. “Quit talking about Steve’s arms and flirting in front of me, it’s gross.”

You fling a banana peel at him. “You’re the one too busy devouring his food to talk about anything else.”

“So you admit you’re flirting with me.” Steve teases, winking at you.

Dustin covers his eyes in disgust, forgetting about his ice cream entirely. “Seriously, stop it! You’re my sister, how would you feel if I flirted with Suzie in front of you?”

“I would–” You try to think of a response, but ultimately you deflate, unable to come up with anything. Frustratingly, you realize that the kid has a point; you’d be incredibly grossed out as well. “I would hate it.” You sigh, accepting defeat.

“Who’s Suzie?” Steve asks.

“Dustin’s girlfriend.” You say, popping a cherry into your mouth as you eagerly await the teen’s reaction to the girlfriend news.

As expected, Steve’s jaw drops and turns to your brother. No way the little twerp got a girlfriend before him this summer. “Girlfriend? Since when?”

“Met her at camp,” Dustin smirks at him, proud he’s surprised Steve. “She’s super hot, too. Hotter than Phoebe Cates.”

You roll your eyes at his insistence of referencing Suzie’s appearance, but Steve seems interested, although in disbelief as well. “No, no way. Hotter than Phoebe Cates? No.”

“Why is Phoebe Cates the gold standard?” You ask, unsure when she became everyone’s dream woman. All things considered, she’s incredibly attractive, but it’s weird that every boy you’ve spoken to about this universally finds her attractive. Steve finds her attractive, which you’re choosing not to think about because you don’t look anything like her.

Steve hears the slight bitterness in your tone and shuffles closer to you in the booth. Meanwhile, Dustin takes another bite out of his sundae and nods at him. “Mhm, she’s brilliant, too. She doesn’t even care that my real pearls are still coming in.”

“That’s great, Dustin!” You say, happy that your brother has found a girl who accepts him as he is. It’s sweet, really.

“I know, right?” He sits up straighter in the booth and smiles even wider. “She says kissing is better without teeth.”

You and Steve share a horrified look. Neither of you can believe what you’ve just heard, and you think a part of you died inside. Suddenly, the delicious sundae you’d been eating now turns to cement in your stomach at the thought of your little brother kissing a girl who enjoys his lack of teeth. “Oh, that’s… Yeah.”

“Wow!” Steve tries to mask his own horror and disgust, leaning even closer to you now to try and ground you as well. “Yeah, that’s… That’s great! Proud of you, man. That’s–That’s kinda romantic?”

Dustin basks in Steve’s praise and your disgust slowly melts away. Your brother genuinely seems happy to be with Suzie and even happier to tell Steve about it all. He won’t admit it, but you know he idolizes the teen. Steve’s word is like an oath to him, not even you have this much influence over the boy. If it were anyone else, you’d be offended and hurt, but seeing Steve flash Dustin a wink, you couldn’t have chosen anyone better for your brother to admire.

“So do you really just get to eat as much of this as you want?” Dustin motions towards his half-eaten sundae before turning to you. “How much ice cream have you had this summer?”

“A lot,” you shrug, taking another bite of your own sundae.

Steve lazily drapes an arm over you, which Dustin narrows his eyes at. “Yeah, I mean. Sure. It’s not really a good idea for me, though. I gotta keep in shape for the ladies.”

“Ugh,” you scoff in disgust at Steve’s words and shrug his arm off of you before scooting away from him. Sometimes you forget how much of an idiot he can be. That he used to wear the crown of King Steve. You turn slightly away from him and finish eating your ice cream, annoyed and slightly hurt, though you know you have no right to be.

It’s not like you’re with Steve, anyways.

Robin, from across the parlor, sees your sudden annoyance at Steve and calls out to him, “Yeah, and how’s that working out for you?”

“Ignore her,” Steve groans, not having the energy to deal with Robin’s quips and your anger being directed at him. He turns to you and lowers his voice. “I was kidding, Y/N. You know that–”

“Robin seems cool,” Dustin interrupts, not at all wanting to witness a lover’s feud between you and Steve. He left you two alone for a month, he thought he’d come back to you guys being an old married couple. Instead, he still has to suffer through your weird in between chaos.

You jump at the chance to gush about Robin, all while avoiding Steve’s pleading eyes. “She’s amazing. Genuinely one of the coolest people I know.”

“She’s not.” Steve corrects you, shaking his head. You roll your eyes at him and flick his ear, but as your hand lowers, he catches it with his and intertwines your fingers with a practiced ease. The action makes you blush and look away, still not ready to forgive him just yet. Steve sees the blush and feels your fingers tighten around his and he feels as if he can breathe again. There’s hope, at least. “So, where are the other knuckleheads?”

Dustin sighs. “They ditched me yesterday.”

“No,” Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Y/N, did they really?”

“They… Kinda did.” You wince, absentmindedly placing your other hand on top of the one Steve is holding. He smiles softly at the action, momentarily forgetting about what you've just told him.

“My first day back! Can you believe that shit?” Dustin’s hurt from last night returns, which only makes you feel worse.

Steve leans forward now, invested and equally as offended as the boy. “Seriously?”

“I swear to god,” Dustin pauses to take another bite of ice cream. “They’re gonna regret it, though, big time, when they don’t get to share in my glory.”

You drop your head onto the table and groan. “Is this really how you’re going to segue into the Russian thing?”

“You’re my sister. Why would you expect anything less of me?”

“Touche.” You lift your head back up and continue eating your ice cream. It’s the only thing keeping you going right now. Steve has learned how to make your sundaes perfect, adding the peach ice cream you adore with just the right amount of whipped cream.

Meanwhile, Steve has a confused look on his face as he looks between you and Dustin. “Glory? Russians? Did I miss something?”

Dustin smiles mischievously and lowers his voice as he slides closer to the teen. You roll your eyes at his antics, knowing that the conversation that’s about to unfold will only give you another headache. You missed Steve and Dustin being together, but you didn’t miss the way they seemed to double in stupidity when together.

Looking around to make sure he won’t be heard, Dustin begins to explain. “So, last night, as Y/N and I were trying to get in contact with Suzie…” He pauses, sees that Scoops Ahoy is now filling with more customers, and lowers his voice even more to an almost inaudible whisper and covers his mouth.

You and Steve both lean forward, unable to hear him. The teen asks Dustin to repeat himself while you sit there with slight amazement. You know what Dustin is trying to say, you’re more just surprised the kid can be so quiet. It’s a goddamn miracle, honestly.

Dustin inhales deeply and again tries to discreetly inform Steve of the Russian code, but his whispers are still too low to hear. Taking a final bite of your ice cream, you click your tongue at your brother. “You’re really killing it there, buddy.”

“Dude, just speak louder.” Steve’s curious interest is now more of an annoyance.

“I intercepted a secret Russian communication!” Dustin all but shouts, which causes you to practically throw yourself over the table to cover his mouth.

“Jesus fuck!” You look around and see everyone’s eyes on you, and with your hand still clamped firmly over your brother’s mouth, you clear your throat and laugh nervously. “I mean, haha. Pardon me.” The customers give you a weird look but turn away, though Robin continues to stare at you.

Steve gently removes your hand from Dustin’s mouth and once again intertwines his fingers with yours. “Jeez, okay. Yeah. That’s what I thought you said.”

“Did you have to yell?” You sneer at Dustin, still looking around nervously to make sure no one is paying too much attention to the three of you. While Hawkin’s Lab was overrun by Demodogs and every scientist within it died, you’re still terrified that they still have allies watching your every move.

Not that you think the Lab is responsible for Russians, but… Better safe than sorry.

Dustin rolls his eyes at you. “Your boyfriend is the one who couldn’t hear me.”

You’re about to correct him when Steve waves the boy off and goes back to the main topic. “What does any of that mean, though? The Russian code and whatever.”

“It means that we can never catch a break–”

“It means, Steve,” Dustin sends you a dirty look. “That we could be heroes. True American heroes.”

Steve seems into the idea and you want to scream. You hate the way Dustin is explaining all of this. “This could mean danger, guys.”

Dustin rolls his eyes at you and Steve smiles wearily. “I don’t know, Y/N. It doesn’t seem so bad, ya know? We’ve fought Demodogs, how bad could some Russians be?”

You cross your arms and narrow your eyes. “The Demodogs were created by shifty government facilities. Why are we assuming Russia doesn’t have their own?”

“But… American heroes.” Steve looks heartbreakingly pathetic as he says this, and you realize now that his fixation on being seen as some hero stems from the hurt he still feels over his father. He hadn’t turned into who had expected to become, something that you know his father reminds him of every time he comes back from some business trip. You wish you could convince Steve that he’s more than what his father could ever expect him to be, but you know he wouldn’t listen.

With Steve’s pleading eyes looking at you, lost and hopeless, you can’t argue with him. Sighing, you accept that this is something he has to take part in, if only to rebuild his crumbling confidence. “Tell him what you’re thinking, Dustin.”

“Gladly.” Your brother wastes no time diving in, once more eager and excited to have the attention on him, and it’s only now that you realize he’s doing this for the same reason Steve is: they both feel abandoned and hurt. “We need your help.”

“With what?”

Dustin digs through his backpack and takes out the Russian dictionary he made you steal from work. He holds it up and shows it to Steve. “Translation.”

Steve’s eyes widen and he grabs the book to inspect it. There’s a new spark in his eyes, one that died the day his father told him he wouldn’t attend his graduation. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” you exhale and slump in your seat. There’s no going back now. “I just want you both to know that I hate this plan and your excitement over it, but if I don’t help then you guys will somehow end up in a Russian gulag, and that would just be on me.”

Steve shares a look with Dustin, whose sigh reflects your own. “Glad you have faith in us, Y/N.”

–

It’s Steve's idea to work on the translation in the backroom of Scoops Ahoy, and neither you or Dustin argue. Technically, he’s the only one who has any real responsibilities today with work and all, so it makes sense to stay at Scoops and hide out there.

Dustin sits at the table next to you as he replays the tape recording over and over again. Steve paces the room and eats a banana, claiming he needed “brain food” to focus on the complex Russian language. You sit with your head in your hands, trying desperately to hold onto the bizarre language that floats around the room.

After his tenth time replaying the code, Dustin pauses the recording and looks at you and Steve. “So, what do you guys think?”

“It sounded familiar.” Steve shoves a piece of banana into his mouth. You cringe at the obscene amount of food he tries to chew at once. Seeing your disgust, Steve waves the banana in your face and asks with a mouthful of food, “Wan sum?”

“It’s like you want me to hate you today,” you slap the banana away, which he chuckles at.

Dustin gets both of your attention again with slight annoyance. He didn’t miss the weird flirting between the two of you at all. “Guys, focus. What do you mean the recording sounds familiar?”

“The music,” Steve still speaks with his mouth full. “The music right there at the end.”

“Why are you listening to the music, Steve?” Dustin exclaims, exasperated.

As your brother berates Steve for his lack of Russian translating, you sit up in your seat processing what he’s just previously said. While you hadn’t thought much of it before, now that Steve has pointed it out, the music does sound familiar. You swear you’ve heard it somewhere before, but you can’t remember where or when. It’s a hazy memory, distant in your mind, yet right in front of you. It’s incredibly frustrating.

“I think Steve is onto something,” you say, but the two boys are too busy fighting to hear you.

“I’m trying to listen to the Russian but there’s music–”

Suddenly the back door swings open and Robin appears. She looks agitated after having to man the cash register all by herself while Steve hides out in the breakroom. “Alright, babysitting time is over. You need to get in there.” When she sees that you’ve erased her whiteboard and replaced her “you suck” columns with the Russian alphabet, her agitation only increases. “Hey, my board! That was important data, shitbirds.”

You get up from the table and walk up to the girl, feeling bad. While you aren’t sure what exactly her “you suck” column and tallies were for, it had been her creation that you had erased without thinking to ask. Plus, you really don’t want her seeing the Russian dictionary on the table. “I’m sorry, Robin–”

“Not you, Y/N. You’re not a shitbird,” she points over to Steve and Dustin. “Those two are shitbirds.”

“I guarantee you, what we’re doing is way more important than your data.” Dustin interjects, a smug look on his face that makes you want to scream. He isn’t at all helping the situation.

Robin begins to walk over to the boys and you reluctantly follow. “Yeah? And how do you know these Russians are up to no good anyways?”

Dustin’s jaw drops and Steve almost chokes on his banana. Seeing their stunned reactions of Robin having figured out what you’ve been doing, you sigh in disappointment. They’re such idiots sometimes. They wrote Russian on the whiteboard, out in the open, and have been playing the recording out loud, full volume, on repeat.

Of course Robin caught onto what you were doing.

Which only makes your nervous body tense up even more. You hate that you have to lie to her, you’ve become really close with her during your visits to Scoops, but you don’t want to drag her into anything dangerous. You’re not sure what exactly any of this Russian code means, but Robin has been nothing but kind to you this summer, you truly care about her, and it would kill you if something were to happen because of you.

So, despite knowing how smart Robin is, you try to think of a cover story. “We were just interested in the language. Ya know, a summer hobby.”

“I can hear everything, Y/N.” Robin sees right through your lies. “Your idiotic brother and boyfriend are both extremely loud.”

“Steve isn’t my boyfriend–”

“You three think you have evil Russians plotting against our country, on tape and you’re trying to translate, but haven’t figured out a word because you didn’t realize Russians use an entirely different alphabet than we do.”

You, Steve, and Dustin all look at one another in varying degrees of awe and despair.

Robin, seeing your stunned faces, smiles. “Sound about right?”

“How could you not know about the Russian alphabet, Y/N?” Dustin angrily whispers at you as if somehow it’s your responsibility to know the ins-and-outs of the language.

“Why would I–you know what, no.” You ignore your brother and turn to Robin, trying to alleviate the situation and prevent her from finding out anything else. She’s too fucking smart, it’s both admirable and aggravating. “Look, whatever you think you heard–”

Suddenly Robin lunges for the Russian dictionary on the table, but Steve’s quick reflexes enable him to grab the book before she can. “Woah! What do you think you’re doing?”

“I wanna hear it.” She juts her chin out in defiance, though you see the slightly hurt expression she tries to mask. She hates that you’re purposely excluding her and taking Steve’s side in this.

You wish you could tell her the truth.

“Why?” You ask in unison alongside Steve and Dustin.

“Because maybe I can help. I’m fluent in four languages, ya know.”

Dustin perks up, now more open to the idea of Robin’s involvement. “Russian?”

“Ou-yay are-yay umb-day.”

Steve and Dustin gasp, believing that they’ve just heard Robin say something in Russian, but you know better. One summer, when the party had been especially nosy and insisted on following you and Jonathan around, the two of you had learned pig latin in order to communicate without the twerps eavesdropping.

Learning against the table, you smirk at Robin. “Osay ouyay owknay igpay atinlay.”

“Holy shit!” Dustin gasps and Steve almost falls over with how quickly he looks at you in shock. Both boys stare at you in awe and you almost feel bad for their tiny little brains.

Robin can’t help but smile at you, you somehow always manage to surprise her. “Impressive, Y/N. Didn’t think you knew pig latin either.”

“That was pig latin?” Steve scrunches his face and hits your brother with his banana peel. “Idiot.”

“Steve, please don’t hit my brother with banana peels,” you pinch the bridge of your nose. It’s only noon and you’re already exhausted from today’s events. “But yes, that was pig latin.”

Dustin shoves Steve away from him and focuses on you again. “When did you learn pig latin?”

“The summer you and the party decided to stalk me and Jonathan.” You shrug, though you smile fondly at the memory. It had been a good summer, just the two of you holed up in your room as you quizzed each other on the bizarre language.

Steve, seeing your fondness at the memory, frowns. He doesn’t like the uncomfortable heat that he feels ignite within his stomach at the thought of you still being so fond over Jonathan. He trusts you, he trusts what you have, but he will never feel equal to him.

Robin notices Steve’s brewing insecurity and quickly changes the subject. She doesn’t have time for the usual hormonal drama between the two of you. All she wants right now is to decipher the Russian so that she can catch a break from Erica and her demanding need to try every free sample ever. “Back to the main point: I can speak Spanish and French and Italian, and I’ve been in band for twelve years. My ears are little geniuses, trust me.”

You bite your lip. Truthfully, Robin has the highest chance of unraveling whatever the hell is in the recording. You’re horrible with languages, high school Spanish had nearly killed you, and Steve and Dustin stand no better chance. “Robin…”

“Come on,” she begs. “It’s Steve's turn to sling ice cream and my turn to translate.”

Steve and Dustin turn to you, unanimously agreeing that you’re the leader in this situation; whatever call you make, they’ll listen. Robin sees the conflict on your face and tries one last time. “I don’t even want credit. I’m just bored and wanna hang out with you.”

Your head spins. Robin’s pleading eyes are hard to fight against and you realize that she already knows more than you’d want her to; she’s already a part of it all, whether you like it or not. Sighing, you give in. “Fine, but only if you promise not to ask any questions about whatever we may find.”

“What would I even question?” She asks, unsure why your tone is more foreboding than accepting.

You share a look with Steve and Dustin. The three of you know just how quickly something simple can spiral into chaos in Hawkins. “Just… promise me, okay?”

Robin extends her hand, just happy to finally have something better to do. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

After you shake her hand, she tosses her ice cream scoop to Steve and he hands her the Russian dictionary. Seeing the exchange sends a slight shiver down your spine. You don’t like how much it feels like you’ve just signed Robin’s life away.

–

True to her word, Robin’s ears are little geniuses.

With her helping, you and Dustin are able to speed through the translating as Steve works the register. You’re tasked with writing down the letters that Dustin calls from the whiteboard as Robin listens to the tape over and over again.

“Weird ‘r’ with a hook!” Your brother declares for the last letter.

You write it down and can’t help but frown at the message you’ve seemingly deciphered. Showing the writing to Robin, you ask what she thinks. “Are you sure it was that weird ‘r’ sound?”

“I’m positive,” she says. “C’mon, let’s go tell Steve.”

“Are we sure–” You try to ask her again, but Robin has already made her way to the sliding window and gets Steve’s attention.

“We’ve got our first sentence!”

You make your way over and lean against the window as well. Steve, holding two ice cream cones, seems excited by the news. “Oh, seriously?”

“It’s a hesitant first sentence.” You butt in, still unsure if it’s even correct.

Robin rolls her eyes at you. “Ignore her, I’m right.” Then, clearing her throat, she does an impressive Russian accent. “‘The week is long’.”

Steve’s shoulders slump, clearly having expected something better. “Well that’s thrilling.”

“Told you it was a hesitant first sentence.” Then you turn to Robin. “Nice accent, by the way.”

“Why thank you,” she tips her hat at you before focusing back on Steve. “And I know it isn’t thrilling, but it’s progress!”

And with that, Robin spins around and goes back to the table in the breakroom, eager to decipher more of the code. You’re about to kiss Steve’s cheek and say goodbye, but then your eyes land on a familiar red-haired girl and her friend standing in front of the register. You look down at the ice cream in Steve’s hands and note the familiar order you’ve come to memorize since the mall opened.

“Max? El?” You lean further out the window, pleasantly surprised to see them. “What are you guys doing here? Where’s the rest of the party?”

The girls wave at you and giggle, and you realize now that you’ve never actually seen them alone together before. Normally they’re with Lucas or MIke, so it’s a bit jarring to see them getting along so well without the boys. Jarring, but also very lovely.

“We don’t need those idiots.” Max responds, which makes El giggle even more.

Steve whistles, impressed by Max’s bluntness, and hands them their ice cream. They begin to eat the treat before a thought occurs to him. “Wait a second, are you even allowed to be here?”

You walk through the breakroom and come out the main doors to join Steve at the register. While you’re happy to see Max and El getting along, Steve has a point. Why is El here in such a public space? When you had asked Hopper last month if you could take El to Steve’s graduation, it had taken a whole debate and a fresh batch of cookies in order to convince the old man to let her come.

El is still technically forbidden from being seen in public, and yet here she is: running around Starcourt with Max.

You put your hands on the counter and lean towards the girls. They take a few steps back, now knowing that you’re onto them. “Max, El, what are you up to?”

Their eyes widen while you narrow yours, daring them to lie. Then, quickly glancing at one another, they turn around and run out of Scoops Ahoy, leaving you alone with Steve. You both stand there, dumbfounded.

“I thought I only ever had to worry about the boys.” You whisper, horrified. “The girls were supposed to be the ones I could trust.”

Steve rubs your shoulders and kisses your cheek. “You’re gonna go after them, aren’t you?”

You drop your head and sigh. “Yeah, I am.”

“I’ll tell Robin you had a babysitting emergency.” He presses a kiss to your neck now, which you shiver at, before gently shoving you out from behind the counter. “Good luck, angel.”

Steve’s kisses give you the energy you need to run after Max and El. They’re surprisingly fast as they giggle and trade ice cream cones to share. You call after them as you dodge random people in the mall, but your calls are in vain. They ignore you and continue to skip happily away from you.

“Guys!” When you finally catch up to them, they’re outside standing in front of the bike rack. “Why are you in front of the bikes–oh.”

You see Mike, Lucas, and Will unlocking their bikes from the rack as they bicker over something. Faintly you hear Mike and Lucas arguing about splitting money while Will is silent.

There’s a tension between the girls and boys that you now take note of. Normally El would have already been wrapped around Mike’s arms, but she remains by your side as Max approaches the boys. “Well, isn’t this a nice surprise?”

When Mike sees El, he drops his bike in shock. “What are you doing here?”

“Shopping.” El says as she glares at the boy.

You’ve never seen her so cold towards someone. It’s kind of frightening, honestly. “Oh, Wheeler, what did you do?”

“What did I do? No, what did you do? You’re the one who is letting her walk around Starcourt where everyone can see her!” Mike shrieks, always finding ways to blame you for his own problems.

You scoff. “Hey, I’ve only known about this for like, a second longer than you have.”

“Sure, likely story.”

“Have you ever considered not pissing off your girlfriend?”

“Have you ever considered getting a better boyfriend than Harrington?”

“Okay–”

Max steps in between you and Mike, annoyed. “Both of you shut up!” She waves her hand over El’s outfit and tries to turn the conversation around. “This is El’s new style. What do you think?”

“I think she looks nice–”

Mike cuts you off. “What’s wrong with you? You know she’s not allowed to be here.”

“What is she, your little pet?”

El clenches her jaw. “Yeah. Am I your pet?”

“What? No!” Mike denies, equally as confused as you are.

You’re not quite sure how you ended up in this situation.

“Then why do you treat me like garbage?” El questions the boy.

You frown at this and subtly step towards Lucas, desperately hoping for some clarification. “Did I miss something?”

“It’s a long story.” He sighs, and you now realize that Max must be angry with him, too.

El continues to interrogate Mike, and you almost feel bad for the boy. “You said Nana was sick.”

“She is! She is sick.” Mike lies through his teeth. You think about what Hopper told you earlier, how he had said some things to get Mike away from El, and you suppose now that it had involved some type of lie about the kid’s grandma.

Then Mike shoves at Lucas to get him to play along as well. Reluctantly he echoes his friend, though you know he’s aware that he’s only making this worse for himself. “She’s super sick, that’s why we’re here, actually.”

Mike is quick to follow along. “Yeah, we’re shopping! Not for us, but for her, for Nana.”

You catch Will’s eyes, who has remained silent this entire time, and he shakes his head at you in disappointment. You look back at Mike and Lucas now, unamused. “Nana isn’t sick, is she?”

“She is! But…” Mike fumbles over his words now. “We’re also here to get a gift for El. We just–we couldn’t find anything that suited her and I only have like, $3.50, so it’s hard.”

“It’s expensive… Had we known you were at the mall we would’ve asked you for money.” Lucas mumbles, which you flick his forehead at. “Ow, Y/N!”

El looks between Lucas and Mike, her eyes showing her hurt. “You lie.” When neither boy says anything, her hurt only grows and her voice wavers with tears. “Why do you lie?”

Again, El’s words are met with silence. Mike looks down, too ashamed to meet her eyes, and you shift uncomfortably, feeling even worse for the kid. You hadn’t expected to witness an awkward relationship feud today, and it wasn’t all entirely his fault. You know that Hopper played a role in this.

Later, when you have the time, you’re definitely going to yell at the police chief about this.

As the silence drags on, the local bus that drives everyone in Hawkins to Starcourt now arrives in the parking lot. Hearing its brakes hiss, El looks behind her and seems to make up her mind about something. Her face is stony as she approaches Mike and her words are laced with venom. “I dump your ass.”

You and Max gasp, though yours is more from shock and Max is more from being impressed.

Mike’s face falls and El whips around and begins walking towards the bus. Max follows, waving goodbye to you, and you’re left to deal with the unfortunate outcome of this bizarre situation.

Laughing nervously, you awkwardly pat Mike’s back. “You’ll… Uh, fix this, right?”

Mike slaps your hand away and marches back towards his bike. His shoulders droop and he looks tired from all he’s had to deal with today. Lucas doesn’t look any better and silently follows after his friend. Will is the only one who remains, and he drops his head to your chest and groans. “I just wanted to play DnD today.”

“I know, little bee.” You scratch his head and try to console him. “But sometimes life gets in the way. Right now Mike and Lucas need you, do you think you could help them?”

Will looks up at you. “I don’t know… Maybe, I guess.”

“Do what you can,” you kiss his forehead, wishing you could do more for him. All he’s wanted to do all summer is be a kid again, but his peers are growing older and leaving him behind. It isn’t anyone’s fault. “I gotta go, buddy. But I promise you and I will do something this week, just the two of us, okay?”

He nods, content with this, and you ruffle his hair before heading back inside to Scoops.

–

Hours later, you, Steve, Dustin, and Robin all uncover the rest of the Russian code.

You stand with your back against Steve’s chest as he has his arms draped loosely over you. Robin and Dustin stand to your left as you all face the whiteboard that has the message written on it, reading it out loud.

“‘The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west’.”

There’s a pause as you all take in the bizarre message. You’re extremely doubtful that it’s right. The order of the words is too abstract to possibly be purposeful. It just doesn’t make any sense.

“Are we sure this is right?” You ask the group, knowing no one else will utter the doubt that settles over the room. Steve tightens his arms around you and shrugs.

“It has to be.” Dustin mumbles, though even he looks unsure.

Robin sighs. “Well, whether or not we’re right, dingus and I have to close up shop.”

Steve groans but reluctantly lets go of you so that he can help Robin with closing. While the two teens wash the ice cream scoopers and put away the remaining ice cream, you sit with Dustin at one of the booths.

“Maybe it’s a code?”

“Dustin, we just translated a foreign language. Thinking it’s a code seems like a cop-out, honestly.” You rest your head in your hands and watch Steve count the money in the register. Feeling your eyes on him, he looks up and winks at you. Blushing, you look back at your brother. “We probably just translated it wrong.”

“My ears are right! We didn’t translate anything wrong!” Robin shouts from across the store.

Dustin perks up. “See? We have to assume we’re onto something.”

You bite your lip, still unsure, but leave the topic alone for now. There’s no point arguing with Dustin and Robin because it’s not like any of you can just ask a native Russian speaker who is correct. If it somehow ends up being a hidden code, then you’ll apologize to Robin’s ears later.

It’s quiet in the parlor after that, but when Steve and Robin have finished closing and he pulls the gate down to lock up the store before you all go home, Steve can’t help but bring the subject up again. “I mean–it’s just, it can’t be right.”

“It’s right.” Robin affirms once more, and Dustin nods at her appreciatively.

“Honesty, I think it’s great news.”

Steve walks next to you as the four of you slowly head towards the mall’s exit. It’s late, you’re tired from your long day of translating the Russian language, and you’re ready to go to bed. Then, as if somehow knowing the exhaustion that weighs upon you, you feel Steve slip his hand into yours. His fingers are warm and the touch soothes you as he gently guides the two of you.

“How is this great news?” Steve asks your brother. “I mean, so much for being American heroes. It’s total nonsense.”

“The goal isn’t to be American heroes, dummy.” You chide, tugging at your hands to make sure he looks at you and listens. “We aren’t still going to follow this, are we?”

Dustin rolls his eyes at you both. “It’s not nonsense, it’s too specific and obviously a code. And yes we’re going to keep following this. We’re onto something, I can feel it!”

“All I feel right now is a crippling migraine forming,” you groan, rubbing at your temples.

Steve kisses your head in concern, feeling bad that he’s kept you out so late. However, he also really, really would love to become someone important. Someone worthy of his dad’s favor, so he follows after Dustin, curious despite it all. “What do you mean a code?”

“Like a super secret spy code.”

“That’s a total stretch.”

You snort. “That’s what I said, but no. Why should we ever listen to Y/N? It’s not like she’s always right in the end.”

Robin winces, afraid to annoy you further, but she can’t help but agree with Dustin. “I don’t know, is it really a stretch?”

“No, please don’t tell me you believe my brother.” You’re betrayed, hurt even, that Robin would succumb to Dustin’s fantasies.

Normally you’re all for believing your brother, but Russians in Hawkins leaving a hidden code in a radio frequency that can be accessed by the public? You may have fought alternate dimension monsters and you may know a girl with mind control powers, but even this feels far fetched.

“Listen, just for kicks, let’s entertain the possibility that it is a secret Russian transmission. What’d you think they were gonna say, ‘fire the warhead at noon’?” Robin raises her eyebrows at you.

“Well… no.” You slump your shoulders, knowing that she has a point. “But–”

“Just admit we’re right, Y/N.” Dustin says, annoyed.

Robin turns to you and almost groans when she sees your hand intertwined with Steve’s. Her voice falters for a moment at the sight, but she clears her throat and carries on with the conversation. “And my translation is correct. I know that for sure, so… ‘the silver cat feeds’. Why would anyone talk like that unless they’re trying to mask the meaning of their message?”

Dustin is next to her now, hanging onto her every word as you and Steve lag behind. “Exactly!”

“It is a weird phrase,” you mumble under your breath, and Steve can’t help but chuckle at how endearing you are when you try to play the reasonable role. It’s never any use, you’re everything that hope and optimism embodies; it’s adorable.

Robin sees that you’re close to giving in and begins to ramble now. “Why would anyone mask the true meaning of their message unless the message was somehow sensitive?” Again Dustin agrees with everything she says and Steve shrugs his shoulders while all you do is sigh in defeat. Looking at your brother, Robin concludes, “Guess that confirms your suspicions.”

“Evil Russians.”

“Okay, no.” You step between them now. “What if they’re just, like, really shy Russians who want some privacy? Why do we always jump to the evil conclusion?”

Dustin shoulders you to get you to shut up, and you shove him back, starting a small spat between the two of you. He hits your shoulder, you hit his stomach, and Steve watches with amusement while Robin stares in horror.

“Do we stop them?” She asks the teen.

Steve shakes his head. “I’ve learned that it’s best to just let them fight it out. It’s been a month, they’re behind on their fist fighting schedule.”

“I heard that!” You quickly say to him before yanking Dustin’s shirt to get him off of your back.

Seeing your struggle, Robin forces your brother off of you and holds him by his arms so that he doesn’t jump on you again. Dustin complains, but quickly shuts up at what Robin says. “Focus! I’m trying to tell you that I agree with you, this is totally evil Russians.”

Dustin stops struggling against her, now elated at the idea of defeating evil foreigners. “So how do we crack it?”

You were scared that Robin and Dustin wouldn’t get along, but as you watch them bounce schemes off of one another and plan an evil Russian take down, you’re now terrified of the friendship brewing between them. It’s worse than Steve with Dustin; Robin is just as cunning as your brother is.

She thinks for a moment. “I guess we translate the rest and hopefully a pattern emerges.”

“Have we ever considered a game plan for after poking our noses where they don’t belong?” Dustin and Robin both glare at you and you hold your hands up in surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying.”

“Ignore her, Robin. She likes to pretend she’s the rational one in these types of situations.” Dustin whispers to her, which you roll your eyes at. Steve kisses your cheek as a way to console you as your brother continues to speak. “Anyways, maybe the ‘silver cat’ is a meeting place?”

“Or a person.” Robin theorizes.

“Or a weapon.”

As the two of them come up with insane theories about what the code could mean, you notice that Steve is no longer by your side. Turning around, you find him stopped at one of the carousel horses meant for little kids. He’s bent over it, examining it. You frown, unsure what he’s doing, and walk over to him.

Resting a hand against his back, you lean down next to him. “Can I ask what we’re looking at here, honey?” He’s mumbling under his breath and digging through his pockets for something. Now you’re starting to get concerned. “Steve?”

“I need–do you have a quarter?”

“No?” You’re even more concerned now. Placing the back of your hand against his forehead, you check his temperature. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Sure you’re tall enough for that ride?” Robin quips as she and Dustin now join.

“Quarter!” Steve demands, nearly falling over as he tries to catch the one that she tosses him. When he catches it he quickly pushes the coin into the machine’s slot, bringing it to life. Music begins to play as the horse moves back and forth. It’s ominous, almost, in the mall’s dim lighting with no one else around.

Steve listens intently to the music, his face concentrated as if trying to understand something. As the music continues to play, you can’t help but feel that it sounds familiar. It reminds you of something, maybe a distant memory that you can’t quite recall. Wanting to understand more, you lean in close to the machine as well and mirror Steve’s actions. “The music…”

“They’ve both lost it,” Dustin mumbles when he sees that you’re also now analyzing a stupid carousel horse.

“Y/N, you helping little Stevie up onto the ride?” Robin laughs at her own joke, but you swat at her to shush her.

As the song plays once more, it finally clicks. Your mind flashes back to your conversation with him earlier in the break room as you kept replaying the Russian recording over and over again. It’s the same song. With a gasp, you throw your arms around Steve’s neck and begin kissing his face over and over again. “You’re a genius!”

Steve leans into your kisses and smiles at the praise, relieved that you don’t think he’s some idiot. Though his heart is beating wildly, he clears his throat and shrugs as if it isn’t a big deal. “I have my moments.”

“Care to share with the class, dinguses?”

Robin’s voice startles you, having momentarily forgotten where you were. Blushing, you pull away from Steve and clear your throat as well and act as if you weren’t just drowning the boy in kisses. “Listen to the song, guys.”

The seriousness of your tone causes Dustin to finally listen to the music as well. It only takes him a few seconds to piece together what you and Steve already have. “Holy shit. The music.”

“The music.” You confirm with pride, still incredibly amazed that Steve managed to remember such a small yet crucial detail. Since coming to befriend him, you’ve come to admire just how perceptive he is. Sure, he may not be a math whiz, but his emotional and creative intelligence leaves you in awe every time you see it. He’s smarter than anyone gives him credit for.

You wish his father saw this intelligence within him. Honestly, you wish more people did.

Dustin yanks his backpack off of his shoulder and starts rustling through it as he searches for something. When he finds his tape recorder, he starts to play the Russian transmission again. Hearing the audio and carousel play simultaneously side by side, it only confirms what Steve has long since figured out: it’s the same song.

Not being able to help yourself, you again kiss Steve’s cheek, giddy and proud of him. “You’re brilliant.”

He preens while Robin scrunches her nose, unsure why you’re all over the guy because of some song. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s the exact same song on the recording.” Dustin explains to her.

“Maybe they have horses like this in Russia?”

You nod at her. “Maybe? We should look into who produces these machines, it could be our new lead.”

Steve shakes his head. “‘Indiana Flyer’? I don’t… I don’t think so.”

Something seems to shift within his voice and his face now twists with slight fear. He looks as if he’s realized something awful, and you feel your own joy from earlier vanish. A chill runs through you, the same awful feeling of dread that once overwhelmed you when Will originally disappeared now courses through you again.

“What is it?” You softly ask Steve, already bracing yourself for the worst.

He frowns at the apprehension in your voice and the worried crease between his brows makes you want to smooth away the concern. You know he doesn’t want to scare you, that he’s always trying to make things easier for you, so you tilt your head at him and nod slightly; you want him to tell you. Seeing your unspoken permission, he sighs. “This code, it… didn’t come from Russia. It came from here.”

You, Robin, and Dustin all look at one another. Fear settles over the group, you can feel its heavy weight like an old, familiar friend.

“Why does everything happen in Hawkins?” You say to no one in particular, still trying to process what this all means.

Dustin sighs and Steve drops his head.

Somehow, you always end up here.

–

Steve offers to drive you and Dustin home after seeing how shaken up you are by the latest Russian revelation. Tired and exhausted and terrified as usual, you accept.

It takes some trial and error, but eventually he and your brother manage to fit your bikes in the back of the BMW.

The drive to your house is filled with awkward banter between Steve and Dustin. You sit quietly in the passenger seat as the two boys try to make light of the situation, but not even their jokes can lessen the fear that creeps into the car; none of you are sure what to make of all of this.

When Steve pulls up to your house, all that you’ve managed to do the entire car ride is make a mental note to call Jonathan about everything later. It’s not your best plan, you wish that there was more you could do, but at the very least you know that he and Nancy can help.

Dustin scrambles out of the car, desperate to escape the tension within it. “See you tomorrow, Steve!” He calls behind him before slamming the car door shut.

You snort softly at your brother, finally moving to unbuckle your own seatbelt, before Steve places his hand on yours and stops you. He’s noticed how quiet you’ve been the entire car ride and the way your eyes have clouded over with fear. He hates it. “Do me a favor?”

“Yes?” You blink at him, unsure what he could want at this hour. It’s late and your mom expects you home soon.

“Leave your window unlocked for me.” He winks at you, trying to play coy, but you see the genuine concern for you hidden beneath his actions.

You can’t help but smile; it feels as if you can breathe again. “Steve Harrington, why should I leave my window unlocked for you?”

Your smile sends a warmth through Steve’s chest as relief washes over him. He’s doing something right. He’s gotten you to smile. “Because I’m planning on sneaking in after I park my car a few blocks down so your mom won’t see me.”

Though you know what he had been implying, hearing him say the words out loud causes a wild blush to burn across your cheeks and your stomach to swoop. Steve has never done this before, sneaking into your room like some lovestruck teenager late at night, it’s been the one boundary neither of you have crossed before.

“I suppose I can do that.” You say with an air of indifference, which Steve rolls his eyes at. “Strictly friendly, of course.”

“Oh, of course.”

You giggle, finally unbuckling your seatbelt, and you exit the car after kissing the boy’s cheek. His face is warm against your lips and you’re coming to memorize the way your nose presses against the indent of his cheek bones.

When you get inside, your mom is knitting on the couch while Tews sits in her lap. She greets you with a smile and you compliment the scarf she’s making. “I’m sure it’ll be perfect for this winter, mom.”

She thanks you and wishes you a good night, noticing the bags underneath your eyes with slight concern. Inside your room, you quickly clear away the scattered pieces of paper on your desk and arrange your bedding so that it isn't strewn across the room. Steve has been in your room a million times now, and yet you can’t help but feel like tonight is different for some reason.

True to his word, within ten minutes Steve is knocking on your window. Hearing the quiet way his knuckles rap against the glass makes your heart jump in your stomach. Your body practically buzzes as you go to open the window, eager to have him close to you.

“Took you long enough,” you tease, opening the window wide enough for him to crawl through.

Steve pulls himself up with ease, his biceps strain against his Scoops Ahoy uniform, and you’ve never been more thankful for corporate policy. “Sorry, angel. Came here as fast as I could.”

You tug at his shirt and the two of you are falling into your bed. He lands on you with a soft thud and your body has long since become accustomed to his weight. As his body settles upon yours, it feels like coming home. You exhale deeply, wrapping your arms around his body, and Steve nuzzles his face into your neck and presses a gentle kiss there.

Everything swirling violently within your head now stills. The constant onslaught of worries and doubts finally quiets, and you know that despite it all, at least you have Steve.

“We’ll figure it out, ya know.” Steve’s lips move against the skin of your neck as he speaks, making you shiver slightly at the sensation.

“I know,” you start to play with his hair, needing something to do with your hands as you speak. “But… How many times are we going to keep doing this? Be the only people in Hawkins aware of what’s going on?”

Steve is silent for a few moments, allowing your words to sink in. He rolls them around in his head, he knows that the question isn’t one that comes from doubt of what he and the others are capable of. You don’t lack faith, you lack the willingness to constantly place the ones you love at risk. It just isn’t in your nature.

“As many times as needed.” He pauses again, unsure how to express to you his certainty that you’re capable of so much with all the love within you. If there’s anyone in this shitty town who is a real American hero, it’s you. “I mean, after everything we’ve been through these last two years, measly Russians are no big deal. We’ve fought worse monsters than Communism.”

You laugh, he always somehow gets you to laugh, and the sound is as angelic to Steve as your eyes are to him. He tightens his arms around you and relishes in the way your body presses against his, how he can feel your body move with every inhale of your laugh.

Then, slowly, your laughter dies down. Reality settles upon you once more and you want to believe Steve, you do, and you try to reassure yourself that he’s right… but something feels off about this. You can’t exactly articulate what it is, but there's this haze of uncertainty that you’ve never quite felt before; a vulnerability that leaves you feeling cold in his arms.

Sensing your fear rising up again, Steve tries to distract you by changing the subject. “Speaking of monsters, I recruited the little heathens to help with your birthday gift.”

The change of subject works. You raise your head and look at the teen. “You mean the party? You got them to help with a gift for me?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Y/N.” Steve butts his head against your chin playfull. “I can make them listen to me… sometimes.”

You stare at him, knowing he’s full of shit. “Go on, tell me all about how you got them to listen to you.”

He tries to hold your gaze, refusing to back down, but he cracks after only a few seconds. “Okay, fine. It took a lot of pleading and I now owe a bunch of pre-teens money.”

A loud, full body laugh escapes your lips, and Steve laughs with you. The two of you hold one another and feel each other laugh, chests rising with glee. For a moment you feel okay again, forgetting everything else for now. You’re carefree in this moment, feeling like a little kid again, something only Steve can do to you.

When your laughs die down, you and Steve quietly lay together. No other words manage to find their way in the dark of your room, all that needs to be said has been laid to rest. His warm breaths hit the base of your neck as your nails scratch against his scalp. While you feel safe in his arms, there’s still so much that needs to be said.

Staring at the ceiling of your room, you see faint threads and strings and lines that you thought you put to rest that night in Jonathan’s room this winter. Now, they’re back again, only this time it’s a different boy within your arms. Something akin to doubt creeps in.

Steve already has all of you, you told him you’d wait, but what if you’ve missed your chance again with him like you did with Jonathan? When June began, Steve promised that you had all summer together. He calls you angel and tells you stories to fall asleep to on the phone, and yet the threads that glow above you taunt you.

You love him, you do, but you’re terrified that whatever the two of you uncover with the Russians will somehow pry you apart.

Just like Will’s disappearance had pried Jonathan away from you two years ago.

July looms over you and summer is going by faster than you thought it would. The promise of summer, one that usually leaves the nostalgic taste of honey on your tongue, now threatens to choke you.

As if having a mind of their own, your arms tighten even more around Steve, almost as if somehow you can shield what the two of you have from the dangers within Hawkins.

You hope it’s enough.

-

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[leonsdolly]

Wicked Game

Leon Kennedy x fem! reader

Synopsis: Leon leaves you for her, and you're not sure what to do now.

CW: nsfw 18+, infidelity, angst, suicidal thoughts, comparing yourself to her, masturbation, mentions of p in v

WC: 1.5k

“What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you…” You murmur along to the melancholy words that are floating around your room like butterflies. Actually, more like flies nearing the end of their life span - movement transitioning from an erratic flight to a lazy, almost purposeless dwindle until they’re on their backs with their legs sticking up in the air. That’s exactly how you are now that Leon’s done with you. A dead fly - no one could save me but you. Chris Isaak gets it. He gets it so well that he’s been looping for God knows how long.

Was it only last week that Leon left you for the ghost from his past? The one in red, haunting him in ways that you were oblivious to. Always bleeding red, like Bloody Mary or something. Maybe it was better if you’d feigned ignorance to the evidence. Maybe you’d still be able to call him yours if you played your role of a cross-eyed Mary jumping right into his arms with no protests, always playing it clean.

It was all because of a letter that was carefully tucked away in his desk drawer, folded and sealed with a kiss. No, literally a kiss. The bitch left her lipstick imprint in lieu of her signature. YSL, shade R1. You’d always been a Dior girl anyway. 

You swore up and down that you weren’t purposely snooping through his belongings, that you were just looking for Scotch tape. The offensive document shook in your hand as you fearfully inquired about its contents. He was stuttering and ashamed and apologetic and all the things a good man is when he’s sinned. He let you cry and scream and sink to your knees with your head in your hands like you were never going to come back up, like you could die in this position and be encased in marble. A new weeping angel.

You know in your heart that you could never equate to her in his eyes. The knowledge that he’s probably been comparing you to her throughout your relationship makes you so damn ill. Maybe you should slit your own throat in front of him and let the crimson flow over your body so you can match with her. Bleeding red all over the place, letting him see nothing but that cursed color, the way he did all those years ago in the city where it all started. The way he’d still continued to do so after meeting you and promising all sorts of things you weren’t accustomed to hearing. You suppose you can’t fault him completely, it wasn’t like he intended on hurting you; he’d tried to overcome his adversities and forge a new home for himself, one that was pink and frilly and covered him in glossy kisses after a long day at work. But ultimately, it wasn’t enough. His allegiance lay with first red, then white, then blue. 

You just miss him so damn much. You’re desperate enough for him that if he were to walk through the door right now, you’d take him back in a heartbeat. Sure, maybe you’d have difficulty meeting his eyes for a while, deep pools, murky with guilt and who knows what else. Your vision would be limited to the freckles on his neck, the ones resembling a vampire bite, but that’s alright with you. You’re familiar with the area, having kissed it so many times. You shouldn't be thinking about those little spots or anything else about him for that matter. He made his bed, and now he has to lie in it. With her. Pressed up against her with his face tucked into the crook of her neck. Oh God, now you're the one seeing red. Is there really such a thing as a red string tying two people together, keeping them bound for eternity? Hopefully not, because you're nauseous at the concept that it's always been her. She was right there beside his former bright eyed and bushy-tailed self, the version that had a vague understanding of how the world worked, before he was your solemn Leon. They trudged through the abyss together, leaning on one another for strength in the midst of a plague. You wish God would just deliver armies of locusts to devour you and him and her and the rest of the world. The end is here anyway now that he isn’t. 

Your last memory of him is that pitiful look in his eyes as he gazes at you one more time. You said I was your baby. He said a lot of things, promised you the world, and look how things turned out. It’s sickening really, how cruel fate can be. Was this fate? You’re going to tie their disgusting red string around your neck and squeeze until your head pops off like a rocket. A blazing glory, capable of stealing his attention.

The thoughts of needing to be better so that he’d be with you again swirls around in your brain, filling up your entire being until you can’t bear it any longer. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to put a ring on your finger and give you his babies and hold you close on your deathbed. Your hand twitches, muscle memory activated from all the times you slipped your hand into his, anchoring you to him. I’m so sorry… Ada and I… We’ve been through a lot together. You can’t take this anymore. But I love you more than anything in the whole world… How am I supposed to live without you? He never did give you a proper response to that, silence encompassing the air between you.

You shuffle to the bottom drawer of your dresser and fish out a wrinkled shirt that had been shoved towards the very back, away from prying eyes - navy blue with the letters “RPD” emblazoned in white across the front. You slip it on and inhale the fabric draped over your frame, protecting you, hugging you as you crawl back into your bed. His arms really were the loveliest place to be. Firm and gentle, wrapped around your torso like your very own bullet vest. Shielding you from horrors you would never have to experience, he’d make sure of that. Or at least he had, anyway. His lingering scent fills your senses like whispers in an abandoned chapel. Something familiar, a sense of comfort in your hollowed out state. It takes over your grief for a second, and when you shut your eyes tight, everything is alright again.

You yearn to hold onto this feeling, but it dissipates once your eyes open, and you're isolated yet again. Your bottom lip trembles as you squeeze your eyes shut as hard as you can, gripping onto the hem of his shirt. His arms are around you again, and the smell of him is welcomed. It elicits a natural response from your body, begging for his touch, forming a silent prayer to any divinity who will listen. Your thighs involuntarily part as you reminisce on the feeling of his face in between them, tongue lapping at everything you have to offer. Whimpers fall from your lips as your other hand travels down to slowly stroke your clit the way he used to do it. There’s my baby. You’re his baby, still so good for him. You rub your clit faster and faster as the hand that was clutching onto his shirt for dear life comes up to squeeze your tits and pinch your nipples. 

You realize that tears have been running down your flushed cheeks as you grind down onto your fingers faster in an effort to chase your high. Just like that… Sweet baby, my sweet baby. 

He's probably fucking her at this exact moment. Cock buried miles deep inside her perfect cunt, perky tits bouncing at every thrust while she moans for him. You’re going to blow your brains out. What kind of sounds does she make when she’s getting the railing of a lifetime? Something more refined than your own little whines. Is she kissing those precious freckles on his neck, giving them all the attention they could ever ask for as he lets out his own delicious noises? You weep as you continue to rub your clit while slick leaks from your neglected pussy, begging for only him to fill it up.

You’re sobbing as you feel the release building up in your core, and you're bawling as you feel your pussy clamp around the ghost of his cock. You let out a cry of both pleasure and agony as you frantically cum all over your fingers. My perfect baby.

Shallow pants escape you as you simply lay motionless, eyes trained fixedly on the ceiling of your melancholy prison. You shakily bring your other hand up to wipe away the tears that have forged new paths for themselves on your cheeks and down to your pillowcase. I love you. You’ll always be my girl.

This world is only gonna break your heart. How are you supposed to live without him? Nobody loves no one. Chris Isaak needs to shut up.

[sarahs-library]

Forgotten

In which an unfortunate turn of events leads to Azriel forgetting his very pregnant mate.

Words: 2541

A/N - Hi everyone, this is my first foray into publishing work online and like everyone else I am preparing for CC3 by re-reading all of SJM's work. I've been inspired by all the lovely Azriel/Reader pieces I've seen on tumblr as of late and have decided to contribute my own.

Part Two ☪ Part Three

Forgotten Universe: Pretty Eyes

Azriel

Heavy waves of unconsciousness threatened to drag Azriel further, deeper into the abyss. The roaring in his ears drowned out rational thought. Tongue dragging against the roof of his dry mouth he reached out for something to anchor him, carting his hands through silk sheets. His skin burned.

“Azriel?” Elain’s sweet voice floated through the darkness. Azriel fought against the fatigue to open his eyes. The brightness strained and he tried to focus. Light filtered through the window, highlighting beautiful features and the golden hues of her hair. She leaned forward, taking a pitcher of water from the bedside table to fill a glass, holding it up to his lips so he could drink. A small smile quirked the corner of his mouth in gratitude and he worked his dry lips around the rim. One hand came up to support the glass, holding it over Elain’s own, an excuse to feel her smooth sun-kissed skin.

He hadn’t seen her since the disaster of the almost kiss and his words, ‘this was a mistake’, had haunted him endlessly in his sleepless nights. The regret hadn’t stopped the images that plagued him. How she would look underneath him, or riding him, the faces she’d make as he brought her pleasure, the sweet songs she’d sing for him as she climaxed. Even Rhy’s warning hadn’t been able to tame the desire he felt for the middle Archeron sister; in his half delirious state he was content to take advantage of the closeness the opportunity offered. His eyes roamed her face, following the tantalizingly exposed skin of her neck down to where the bust of her pale pink gown hid her breasts from his view.

Satiated, he pulled his head away and managed to croak out a small word of thanks. Elain’s brows furrowed as she searched his face for something, finding it lacking.

“We’ve all been so worried about you.” Azriel frowned, finding it difficult to care about anything other than admiring her beauty in the light provided by the rising sun. He made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat and traced the delicate bones of her wrist under his fingers where his large hand still dwarfed hers. She pulled back, placing the glass on the bedside table and he felt words of protest trying to break free. Come back he thought, his appetite to feel more of her supple skin under his own ignited.

Contentment rose in him as she leaned closer once more, this time placing the back of her hand against his forehead. Perspiration clung between their skin; Azriel resisted closing his eyes and basking in the warmth erupting in his chest. Memories of his mother flooded back, in a daze he felt himself being carried through the few times in his childhood when she’d been able to care for him as he had yearned for. This position brought Elain even closer to him, affording him a delightful view of what lay beneath the top of her dress with a downward cast of his eyes. He soaked in where the tan from her time in the gardens morphed into untouched alabaster and ruminated on how it would taste under his tongue.

“You’re still burning up, I’ll send for Madja.”

“No,” he reached to grasp her hand as she pulled back. “Stay.”

 Elain worried her plump bottom lip between her teeth as she fixed her rich chestnut eyes on his face. Azriel couldn’t draw his gaze away from how the baby-soft skin looked trapped under her incisor, imagining how it would feel under his own. He watched as her eyes lost focus, she seemed to stare straight through him. He knew the look; could recognise the blankness imposed by communicating with daemati. Which meant that Rhys would be coming soon.

He sighed, perturbed by the impending interruption. He reached for his shadows, hoping that they would at least give him some advanced warning but found them missing. Frowning he tried to sit forward, tearing his eyes from Elain’s face he scanned the room. His room, at the House of Wind. All the times he'd dreamed of her in here with him, what they would do, he'd never quite imagined it like this.

“What happened?” He still clutched at Elain’s hand but lowered it to rest against his thighs. His chest was exposed, naked and flushed with fever. The muscles in his wings protested as he moved to unfurl them slightly and he drew in a sharp breath through his teeth. Such a small motion, but it brought the catalogue of pain to the forefront of his mind through the haze.

The dark silk sheets pooled at his waist and rubbed against the stark whiteness of clean cotton bandages. He could feel where the membranes connecting the sinewy muscle and delicate bones of his wings pulled tighter in places over almost healed wounds. The room smelt of antiseptic; underneath his own scent was stale as though he hadn’t stayed there in a long time.

“I don’t know all of the details, you’ll have to speak to Rhys and Feyre.” Elain seemed to falter under the intensity of his gaze. “You arrived a few nights ago, winnowed to the River House poisoned and half-dead. Madja’s been working on you for days.”

"You've been here all this time?"

He leaned closer to her, his chest warming at the thought that perhaps he hadn't destroyed this, not like everything else he seemed to touch. Elain was frozen under his graze, eyes wide and lips parted. He drew closer, inhaling the scent of jasmine and honey, unable to resist her magnetism.

"Oh." She started and moved back in her chair, putting distance between him and his advances. "No, I arrived about half an hour ago. Y/N needed to get some rest." Her face seemed to implore him to do something and his thoughts were drawn to the failed kiss at solstice. Perhaps this was a gift from the mother Azriel reasoned. An opportunity to do everything over.

His eyes fixed on hers and an unfamiliar sensation bloomed in his chest. Azriel frowned as he felt a tug, it seemed to come from inside his ribcage. He brought his free hand, the one that was still clutching at Elain's, to rub at the skin over his heart. Confused he trailed his eyes down Elain's face to look at the skin his scarred fingers danced over.

He started as he saw it, the thread of pure gold. He reached in a tugged, feeling the answering wave of love and relief. If Azriel felt like he was drowning earlier it was nothing compared to the joy and elation that threatened to swallow him whole. His eyes burned as tears brimmed.

"Elain," he breathed. "I can't believe..." He trailed off, fixing her with a gaze of awe. If he wasn't still suffering from the lingering sluggishness perhaps he would have taken more stock of her confused stare. His hand stilled against his chest and he continued to stare at her. Whatever permission he was looking for, he thought he found in her gaze.

He reached up to caress her neck, following the delicate arch upwards to tangle his long fingers into her curls. His other hand dropped hers to cradle her cheek.

"Azriel." Elain tried to move back further in her chair to escape his wandering hands but found no further retreat against the back of the hardwood. Azriel followed her, shifting forward on the bed so only a few inches separated their faces. His breath mingled with hers.

Taking a deep breath he closed the distance between their lips, fire pooling in his gut with anticipation of finally getting to taste her like he had dreamed of. Claiming her full bottom lip between his own he revelled in the sweetness of her mouth. He pressed harder, her soft lips yielding against his own as he moved to deepen the kiss by tracing his tongue over the swell of her bottom lip. Elain softened in his arms and her fisted hands moved up to rest against his bare chest, not pulling him close but not pushing him away either.

He pulled back slightly, her doe-eyes meeting his firey gaze as he smiled contently at her. His left hand was tangled in the roots of her hair exposing the delicate skin of her ear which he moved to trace with his nose. His breath grazed the supple skin of her neck and his lips danced over the skin of her neck.

"Azriel, wait." Elain seemed to be roused by his actions, opening her hands to press her palms against the plain of his chest. He paused his movement against her throat, inhaling more of her scent deeply as he began to pull back.

"Azriel?"

The voice was unfamiliar, husky and choked, holding back emotion. Hurt bloomed through Azriel's chest and it startled him away from Elain. Anger rose within him at this stranger's interruption, at the hurt they'd caused Elain. Elain who was his mate. His lips pulled away from his teeth in a snarl, driven by instinct. His eyes moved towards the doorway. He felt naked, at a disadvantage without the shadows that had followed him for most of his life, always whispering, always alerting him to the movement of others.

His eyes fixed on the feminine figure in the doorway, taking a cursory gaze over the long golden hair that pooled to her shoulders. She wore night court attire, loose-fitting dark trousers, and a thin-strapped top that hugged the top of her form and flowed out over the obvious swell of her abdomen. The trousers cut off at the calves and a swirl of shadows danced around her feet. Azriel started. They were his shadows.

Elain jumped to her feet, the wooden chair pulled up beside the bed hit the carpeted floor with a thud as she made to move away from Azriel. His hands moved to grab her, to pull her behind him as he struggled to his feet, to protect her from this thief that had infiltrated his home.

"Y/N...This isn't...We weren't, it was..."Elain trailed off, seeming to be at a loss for how to continue. Azriel, now upright but still unsteady, staggered forward a few steps to place himself in between the stranger and Elain.

"Who are you?" He demanded. Elain obviously knew this woman. His mind spun, thoughts still heavy from the lingering fever as he tried to piece the information together. He gestured at the floor, a signal for his shadows to return. Some of them peeled away from winding up the calves of this stranger and slithered towards him across the floor. He took comfort in the familiar cool trail left as they crawled up his legs and chest, curling around his ear to report to him.

Safe, they whispered. Safe as you instructed. Azriel frowned, clearly they were mistaken. He fixed his eyes on the female again, drawn to her face. Chartreuse eyes, lined with tears and framed with long lashes and dark charcoal, stared back at him. They weren't fae he realised, they possessed the otherworldly quality he'd only seen when looking at Amren. There was a deep sense of other about this female that heightened his feelings of unease, coupled with the rogue shadows that flaunted his command and stayed at her feet like loyal guard dogs Azriel automatically grazed his thigh looking for the reassurance of the heavy weight of truth-teller. He found none.

Elain was speaking again, trying to move forward past him, and this time he successfully caught her arm, gently angling her away from the infiltrator to shield her with his body once more. The female's gaze moved from his face to fix where his hand remained on Elain's bicep, rucking up the delicate pale pink fabric as he gripped it with his scarred fingers. Her eyes widened more, Azriel studied as her pouted bottom lip began to tremble and the tears began to spill down her face. She took a step back from where she stood in the open doorway, retreating into the hallway. Azriel was torn between the instinct to follow, to press the advantage he'd unwittingly gained and staying to protect Elain.

Elain who was violently shrugged herself out of his grip, whirling to face him her face filled with anger he'd never seen on her delicate features before.

"What in the cauldron are you doing?" Elain's teeth were bared, her chestnut eyes blazed as she gestured at him widely as she continued. "Have you lost your mind?"

Azriel, surprised at her sudden anger, felt a deep sense of unease that he'd misjudged the situation somehow. His mind whirled, this wasn't how this was supposed to go. He was so used to having the upper hand, having all the information, that without it he was lost for words. Elain continued to back away from him and his eyes darted from her to the doorway which now stood empty, no signs of the mysterious female remained. Azriel's eyes fixed again on Elain's face as they stared at each other. He tugged at the cord in his chest, hoping to receive a response, some kind of assurance that he hadn't imagined it.

A deep sense of betrayal coursed back through the bond, anger mingled with hurt, the sensation was so strong that it almost brought Azriel to his knees. As quickly as the sensation came it stopped, the thread no longer sung and Azriel tried to follow it to the source. A source, he realised flinching, that didn't end with Elain but seemed to trail off and lead elsewhere.

The clap as a pair of powerful wings moved through the air was the only warning as seconds later Rhys landed on the balcony. The doors flew open on a wave of darkness as he sauntered into the room, violet eyes scanning the scene. A dark brow crooked as he took in Elain's rage and his brother half-naked, still flush with fever his shadows swirling in agitation.

"What happened? Azriel, should you be out of bed? Where's Madja?" He addressed his brother first, but his eyes drifted to Elain as he cocked his head for the answer to the second question. Elain took a deep breath and seemed to steady herself, before closing her eyes - an obvious invitation, she wanted to show Rhys. Azriel decided that she could show him whatever she wanted. The more pressing issue, the unknown female, would have to take priority over whatever punishment the High Lord wanted to concoct over Azriel's blatant disregard for his orders.

"Rhys, the stranger - you have to find her. I don't know how she got in. I woke without my shadows and they were with her, she took them."

Rhy's eyes moved between him and Elain as he seemed to piece together the course of events. He took a step forward, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender as Azriel bristled.

"Az." His voice was low, comforting, like he was trying to soothe a cornered predator. "Everything is okay, why don't you take a seat. Feyre's on her way, I think we need to talk."

A/N I'm hoping to start working on Part 2 asap but not sure how long it will take, I have so many ideas for this and committing to them is so hard

[utterlyotterlyx]

The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Two

Summary - As the ways of the world shift, you find yourself torn between those who have always cared for you and the life you feel like you were made to live.

Warnings - some angst, mentions to past trauma, fluff

Part One

The crescent moon scars peered out from the neckline of your nightgown, still raised and angry, threatening to split open in the hope of having their former partners restored.

It wasn't often that they caused you pain, and if they did, you had learnt to live with it, but there was a knot twisting around the muscle there and every movement was causing you to hiss and wince. After you had managed to lift yourself out of bed, you stood braced against one of the posters of the frame, eyes closed and inhaling deeply to halt the contractions pulsing around the area and shooting down your spine.

A gentle knock pulled your attention, the swirling pain striking hard and threatening to send you crumpling to the ground, "What's wrong?" Azriel appeared at your side, no doubt hearing the deep breaths and audible whimpers from the other side of the door.

Azriel's room was across the hall from your own, a silly decision on Rhys' part when you thought about the complicated relationship you shared with the Shadowsinger. It wasn't odd for you to enter your room at any point of the day to find him splayed across your bed or sat by the window, he'd always liked the comfort of your room more than his own.

"There's a knot in my shoulder, I can feel it moving," Azriel nodded in understanding and led you to the bathroom at a pace that was comfortable to you, helping you to sit on the edge of the tub before moving to your medicine cabinet.

Azriel knew where everything was in your room, he knew exactly where you kept the expensive ointments and where you kept the cheaper ones that Cassian would 'borrow' from you unknowing to the fact that you knew full well that he took your things. All you needed to do was mutter what you wanted and his shadows would slither back and tell him, moments later he would return with the item and a warm smile on his lips.

Soon enough Azriel had returned to you, tub in hand and glancing to your clothed back, "Do you mind if I lower it a little?"

Shaking your head, you caught the straps of your gown before they fell too far and exposed your chest to him. Azriel's touch feathered over the scar, and he could clearly see the muscle spasming beneath the skin, you entire body convulsing along with it. It was usually Mor that tended to you in these situations, but you didn't mind Azriel helping at all, you had seen the most gruesome parts of one another. An angry muscle was nothing.

The cream was cold against your skin but you leaned into it and the owner of its appearance, Azriel's fingers worked meticulously, applying pressure in just the right place to bring you untold relief but also a surging amount of pain. Azriel apologised softly as his fingers worked their way into the muscle, rolling small circles into the skin and wincing with you as you hissed in pain.

"I know it hurts. I'm sorry," his shadows had flowed over your shoulders, hugging themselves around your neck and purring softly in your ear.

Azriel always tried his best to be mindful of your loss, going as far as to tuck his large wings behind him as much as possible when you were around despite you telling him that it wasn't an issue. It was obvious how much you missed them from when you looked at his wings, or Cassian's, or Rhys', even Feyre and Nyx weren't safe from your gaze.

A few more minutes went by of Azriel's fingers rubbing into your skin and you weren't in pain anymore, it had floated away in the abyss and you exhaled from your mouth as his hands came to rest atop your shoulders, "Thank you."

"Of course," he glanced about the bathroom, "Do you need me to do anything else?"

"I should be fine, thank you."

The touch of his fingers were still on your bare shoulders and you could feel his gaze trailing down the thick waves of your messy morning hair to the large scars carved into your shoulders. Warmth spread across your skin as his digits lay unmoving on you and you turned your head to the side to capture his gaze, “Is everything alright?”

Pulling him from his trance, Azriel cleared his throat and took a step backward, bumping into the jagged edge of the tub with a dull thump, “Fine. Everything is fine,” it didn’t go unnoticed by you how his shadows had restrained his wings, pinning them behind his back, but before you could tell him to stop, to not hide from you, he had spoke, “I should go. Rhys is sending me on a mission with Nesta.”

You stood, pulling the thin strings of your nightgown back over your shoulders as you faced him, “You and Nesta?” Your voice echoed in the large bathroom, rattling against the windowpanes that were begging to be opened to allow the sweet sonnet of Velaris to reach you, “Why both of you?”

“I can’t say,” he couldn’t say? Or he didn’t know? “I just wanted to come and say goodbye.”

“And to tell me to watch my mouth whilst you’re gone?”

Azriel smirked, “That too,” he wound his arms around your waist and pulled you into him, swaying softly with you in his arms, “I’ll be back soon.”

Cedar was consuming you and you swayed with him, eyes fluttered closed and enjoying the contact of his arms around you, “Be careful,” it was all you could say to make him aware that you cared, he knew that too.

Pulling back from you slightly, he looked down on you, running his thumb along the curve of your jaw, “Always am,” he pressed his lips to your forehead, where your hair met the skin, and paced from the room, his shadows fighting to stay back for one more moment with you.

It was no coincidence that Rhys had decided to send both Azriel and Nesta on a joint mission, the two people closest to you suddenly being ordered away from the Night Court. Away from you. It was unsettling to say the least. Rhys had been keeping a wary eye on you since the morning Eris had left a few days ago, he had noticed how Eris had lingered around you that night at dinner, how the High Lord had unknowingly dressed in the same colours as you, and he didn’t like it one bit.

It felt like punishment, to force you into solitude for aiding Eris at that meeting. It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy spending time with the rest of your family, or that you didn’t like them, it’s just that Azriel and Nesta understood you in the deepest way possible, from the intricate ticking of your mind, to your wit, to the abuse you had suffered and the darkness that lingered inside of your soul, tainting it with its inky mist.

The entirety of Prythian, whilst they knew of you, wouldn’t be able to pick you out in a crowd if it weren’t for your telltale eyes. It was always something that had bothered you, why exactly were you so hidden, like forbidden fruit born from a poison oak. To look at but never touch, to never be intrigued by, to never interact with unless they wished death upon themselves.

You were the last resort, the one Rhys would call upon if there was no other option. At first you believed it was because he truly wanted to keep you out of harms way, to protect you and the future of the court, but as time ticked away, it became glaringly obvious that protecting you wasn’t the reason for it at all.

Rhys was supposed to be the most powerful High Lord that Prythian had ever seen.

What would people think when they saw you, his lesser than sister unworthy of any true title, possessing power that even he found unfathomable?

Sure, Rhys could mist a portion of an army away with a lift of the finger, but you could decimate entire battlefields without even blinking if you so wished it. It wasn’t information he wanted to be common knowledge, so it wasn’t.

The reflection in the mirror was the perfect rendition of the mask you had worn your entire life, soft, elegant, naive, unknowing, it disguised the raging wildfire that consumed you daily, that begged to be unleashed, to devour the world in your fury and conform anyone who stood against you to ash.

A practiced smile fell onto your lips, your hands were neatly folded atop your form fitting plum purple skirt, and your shoulders dropped with a sigh. In that moment, as you stood before your reflection, dressed in fitted fabric of onyx and purple, did you realise how much better you looked in red.

The library had always been your sanctuary, perhaps that was the reason you and Nesta had become so close. She too sought out the comfort that only the library could provide, maybe it was the smell of worn parchment or the faint aroma of oak from the sturdy shelves, maybe it was how the light trickled through the stained glass windows or the comfort of the deep seated armchairs. Whatever it was, it definitely owned a part of you, of you both.

Nesta had found herself idly glancing at the titles on the shelves, it was the week after she had been Made, and one of the first moments she had left her bedroom since finding herself in Velaris. The eldest Archeron sister knew little of you, so little in fact that she didn’t realise you were Rhys’ sister until you told her.

You’d found Nesta in one of the many hidden pews of books, clutching a particular title between your fingers, she had looked awful back then with her hallowed cheeks and sickly pale skin, and she had commented on your inability to announce yourself, and you had told her that she better watch how she spoke to you in your home. Of course that meant that you would become close friends.

Silence swirled about you, a room that was usually rife with Nesta’s sharp humour and chatter about the books you had swapped with her was nothing but a wistful memory.

The library was off limits to everyone bar you and Nesta who came and went as you pleased, other members of the inner circle had to ask for special permission to enter the sanctuary you had made for yourselves. It was an uninterrupted space, a place of harmony and exploration.

Which is exactly why you scowled when you saw Lucien sat in your usual seat with his legs propped atop the vintage coffee table, sifting through pages of a random book he had removed from its perch without giving it much attention or care.

“Care to explain what you’re doing here, Lucien?”

Lucien glanced up at you then, cocking his head to the side and examining you. His mechanical eye whirred, filling the space, as his gaze narrowed in on you, “You look better in red,” his eyes moved to the space behind you which led to the open hallway with walls adorned with various portraits, namely one of yourself that Rhys had commissioned before the happenings of Amarantha, midnight purple wings and all; Lucien silently beckoned you inside with his stare and you closed the doors behind your entrance with a soft click.

Floating to the nearest open seat, a plush black armchair opposite him which homed a red wine velvet cushion, you waved your fingers and the atmosphere fell dense, “You can speak freely,” a shimmer clung to the air like speckles of glistening starlight, and Lucien knew that if anyone were to enter in search of you that they wouldn’t see anything but an empty room before their eyes.

Glamoured.

Lucien was by no means an unpleasant male to look at, he shared so many aspects with Eris, the elder brother than you could see in Lucien’s fire red hair and russet eyes, in his chiselled cheekbones and golden skin, even in the distant surveying glint in his eye. You didn’t know much about the Vanserra brother that resided in your city, but from what Feyre had told you, Lucien was trustworthy, one of the few males in the land she would always be able to count on.

Reaching into the back pocket of his deep brown briefs, Lucien held a piece of parchment before your narrowed eyes, turning it over in his fingers whilst contemplating whether or not to give it to you. Lucien knew little of you, only fragments of you from what Elain had told him in passing, but he had a feeling that you were much more than what you appeared to be. Such was obvious from the subtle notes he picked up from watching you converse with Eris a few evenings prior.

The parchment was rough under his touch, calloused paper that was singed at the edges. Lucien hadn’t dared to open it when it had appeared under his mug that morning with your name intricately scribed onto the folded surface, instead awaiting for his own note to appear, which it had moments later with strict instructions to make sure the note reached you no matter what.

“This is from Eris,” you sat up straighter in your seat, the once unbothered and passive stare now replaced with one of excited intrigue. He smirked.

Lucien held out the parchment to you, and you were ashamed at how fast you rose from your seat to claim it from your fingers. It smelt of him, of autumn pine and cinnamon, the same scent that had lingered on your skin since the morning he had left.

You sent him a sidelong glare and tried to keep your features as trained and neutral as possible, holding it lax in your fingers like you weren’t itching to flip it open and read away, “You know that Rhys would nail your balls to the wall if he knew you were giving this to me?”

Lucien hummed, grinning at you, “Yes. But something tells me that he’s not going to find out.”

Damn Lucien Vanserra and his keen eye, and damn you for allowing a sliver of your true nature to shine through for him to see.

Deep down you were a young girl in love with the idea of fated mates, of true love and happiness, of bright tomorrows and forevers, and it taken a lot of darkness to try and squash that hope that lingered within your soul. Centuries of believing that your power and name made you unlovable, to be feared only.

“What makes you think that?”

Lucien cocked his head to the side, looking you up and down, confirming to himself that there was no way that you would tell a soul, not even Nesta, “That hope I just saw in those eyes,” he rose from his seat and approached your position, “Perhaps it’s time for you to wake up,” he spoke in a tone that indicated that he knew something that you didn’t, many things actually.

Casting his gaze downward at the beautiful cursive rendition of your name, he spoke, “Write your response and will it back to him, it will dissipate into ash in your fingers and float to him in the wind.”

“Why have you delivered this?”

Lucien shrugged, “So many questions,” his voice trailed off, shoving his hands deep into his pockets he stepped toward the door, “Because y/n,” he turned from you, talking to you over his shoulder, “I think you’re the first person I’ve ever seen Eris be so openly kind to, do you know how hard it is for him to apologise about anything?”

Then he was done, and the moment he stepped out into the hallway the glamour dropped and you shivered at the sensation of it.

The portrait of you stared at him and he stopped before it, drinking in the beauty of the starlit backdrop and your wildfire ringed orbs that cut through the darkness like a beacon of enveloping safety. Lucien glanced back to you, noting how you stood in the room peering down at the parchment, turning it over in your hands and thinking about whether or not it was a good idea to indulge the new High Lord, “Life has its challenges, y/n. It’s up to you to decide if they’re worth the struggle.”

He spoke from knowledge, of his own truth, “Were they worth it to you?”

Lucien smiled fondly, no doubt casting his mind to his beautiful mate that breathed life back into his weathering essence, “Very much so.”

It had taken a lot of back and forth mental arguments to bring yourself to open Eris’ note. There was a delicious foreboding about it all that made it all the more tempting, Rhys would lose the reigns of his consciousness and submit himself to his own darkness if he knew.

But Lucien was right, there was no way that you were going to tell him.

With your heartbeat thundering in your chest, you slipped your thumb between the fold and flipped the note open.

Eris’ writing wasn’t as you thought it would be, you were expecting messy handwriting with little personable tone to the words, but how wrong you were, how wrong you were when you could hear that sultry whisky deep voice linger in every neatly curved word you read.

I apologise for putting you in the position of keeping something from your family, but I had to speak to you, and this is the only way I can.

Allowing your gaze to linger on the words, the paper rustled in the breeze from the open window, like Eris had sent the element to give you a little nudge. Reaching for a pen, you scribed your reply, watching the paper engulf in contained flame and the ash dance away in the wind, just as Lucien had said.

It’s not just yourself that you’re putting in danger. Poor Lucien for becoming entangled in another scandal.

A moment passed, and another piece of parchment appeared in your lap doused in his scent.

Any danger is worth even a mere second of your time.

Even if it means pissing off the most powerful High Lord in Prythian’s history?

Even then. But we both know that Rhysand isn’t the most powerful, don’t we Fawn?

Butterflies pulsed in your stomach at the name, you were by no means a fawn, but the sincere softness of it made your heart clench.

If you’re alluding to yourself then I’m afraid you’re severely mistaken, High Lord.

The paper vanished, reappearing again moments later and you could have sworn you could see Eris tucked away in the office of Fir Manor, dressed in an unbuttoned shirt and forest green briefs, hair tousled and smirking into the air with a quill resting between his digits.

This is perhaps the one and only time where I will happily be mistaken… and please, it’s Eris.

Do I not threaten you?

Should you?

You thought about it, there wasn’t a bone in your body that wished to be feared or appear as threatening, it was the role you had grown into, the one you had always played with little say in it, and it was like he knew that.

No, I shouldn’t.

The paper vanished and you waited a stretch for it to return, confiding yourself to staring at the starlit skies beyond the window and wonder where exactly Nesta and Azriel had been sent off to.

Where would Rhys have sent them? And why couldn’t Azriel tell you about it? Did he even know himself what the aim of his mission was? Did Nesta? Why had he chosen the two people closest to you and knowingly left you without someone to lean on?

I see the mask you wear. I see what it’s done to you. You’ve worn it for so long that you feel lost within it, as though the mask has consumed your light. I want to tell you to let the fire burn, to be yourself is the greatest gift you could ever give.

Who knew that the fox could speak with sentiment?

And, like you could hear the earthy chuckle through the inked words, you could practically hear him say,

There are many things that you don’t know about me, Little Fawn. Perhaps one day I’ll let you close enough to find out.

The ghost of his voice lingered around you, like faint whispers of a lover at sunrise.

No, you wouldn’t tell Rhys, or anyone for that matter about the oh so wrong pit burying itself into your gut, or about your nerves prickling with flaming desire.

Blood and loyalty be damned.

Authors Note

Hope you love this x

Feedback is, as always, appreciated

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[madam-kumo]

Hold Me Again

Sagau Dainslief x Female Creator Reader

"What... Stop!" Aether screamed and kicked at the ice holding him away as Lumine handed the final gnosis to the Cryo Archon, the final key to unlocking Celestia. Aether felt betrayed, like his sister stabbed him in the heart herself, but the ice shackles on his arms and ankles kept him from moving. "Please, she'll-" Aether was interrupted by his sister staring at him with pity or was it sympathy? "Trust me. Just this once." Lumine stated, but it sounded more like a beg than a command, her voice cracking and her expression saddened.

"I did not want to awaken Celestia this way with you, Aether, but it must be done." The tsaritsa said, standing from her throne and descending down the stairs, the line of the fatui harbingers lined along the long carpet that spanned across the room. The Tsaritsa, all seven gnosis's in hand, let them all float in her palm, all of them forming a circle of elemental symbols around her feet.

Every element in teyvat, even the long forgotten ones, created gliffs around her before expanding into pillars, each glowing their signature color. Aether knew he had to trust his sister with the look in her eyes alone, but he didn't want to. Gods, all that work for nothing. Every fatui and abyssal he fought- was all for nothing.

The pillars around the Tsaritsa then let out beams of light through the transparent roof of the palace, illuminating the heavens. Soon, as if an image dispersed, the once old- no, the true- Teyvat began to slowly mend and combine with the world around them. Kheanri'ahn symbols began to appear on the palace as the spirits of Kheanri'ah's forgotten people began appearing with bright smiles on their faces, some on their knees in prayer around the palace. They smiled as their home began molding to the new Teyvat around them. Mixes of both world combined into a beautiful display.

Books and letters in Kheanri'ahn lined the walls of the Cryo palace, like a mystical library. Astrology tools and stars glimmered even in the snowing skies of Snezhnaya. The harbingers too looked around in awe, even the stoic Arlecchino couldn't keep the wonder and amazement off her face.

The Tsaritsa's magic finally let go of Aether as her concentrations was focused on the place that was once her throne. A large, crystal structure was placed in the center of it all. The light blue casted a translucent haze over the figure of a woman inside. The Tsaritsa, as if touching glass, wiped the frost off the glass, revealing the face she had seen in her dreams so many times, begging the archon to release her from her slumber. Aether was seated on the floor looking around the place he thought was going to be his final battle; now turned into the place he once called a home. Lumine hugged him with tears of joy in her eyes, thanking him between laughs for trusting her again. Aether was speechless; what could he say?

His thoughts were interrupted when the doors to the palace and library slammed open, revealing a disheveled and beaten Dainslief. Lumine looked at the man in pity, but he didn't even look at them. The Tsaritsa, surprisingly so, moved aside from the crystal structure, allowing the Kheanri'ahn man to approach with wide eyes and his mouth agape. The diamond shaped jewel on his suit, one akin to a vision, for the first time in centuries, pulsed with a deep blue glow. Dainslief, without missing a beat, placed his hand on the crystal, right above the figure's heart. His palm began to glow and the crystal began to fade away. The woman's finger twitched as it was revealed to everyone in the room. Even the Kheanri'ahn spirits looked on in awe as the crystal slowly recede.

Simultaneously, the twins' eyes widened as the face of the woman was revealed. They rushed over, hand in hand, to help Dainslief hold the collapsing woman and guide her onto the cold floor. A quick snap of the Tsaritsa and Tartaglia was already rushing to grab a pillow and some blankets while Columbina grabbed food and water.

The woman's eyes slowly opened to be greeted by two golden pairs and another pair of blue, all of them with blonde hair. Her mind was in a daze, her vision still hazy. she was propped up on Dainslief lap as his tears began dripping onto her face. As if by instinct, her shaky, cold hands reached up to wipe the tears from his face. "Why... are you crying, my love?" She asked, her voice hoarse from centuries of not using it.

"Do not fret my dear, my goddess, my light, the air I breathe... how am I not to cry when I have missed you so?" Dainslief wept, before biting his lip and holding the hand on his face, he knew she would weep for centuries over the loss of her beloved city, but he needed her touch right now. That's all it took for the twins to join in, Lumine on one side of her while Aether cried into the other. "Do not cry... This is a time to celebrate... Not to drown in tears..." she murmured to them, retracting her hand from Dainslief to run her nails through the twins' hair. Lumine wept into her chest, her shoulders shaking, while Aether shook his head while covering his face in her stomach. "You were gone for so long... How could be not be to the point of tears?" Dainslief said, taking the words right out of Aether's mouth.

She laughed hoarsely, resting the back of her head against Dainslief's chest. "Yes... But if you are to weep, please... Let me hold you all, even if I run out of arms to do so..."

[heartfullofleeches]

(Don't) Click me!

Yan Digital Assistant + G.N Reader

-

"Have any of you guys heard about that rumor?" "Which one?" "There's been theories going around that Raine's face isn't their real one. Have you ever noticed how upset they get when you click on their hood? A friend of mine clicked on their face about five times and they said their face just popped right off!" "That's a myth......"

"I trust my sources.....They haven't texted me back since the night they told me, but I'm sure they're just collecting more evidence. Try it out for yourself if you don't believe me."

Try it out yourself, huh?....

"This is ridiculous.."

The spectral glow of your computer screen chips away at the shadows shrouding your room. Every files and folder is accounted for - including the doctored photos the slumbering shape atop your taskbar edited itself into. The plastic hood of a raincoat obscures the upper portion of their face from sight, whiteness peaking from the veil. You had always assumed they had no mouth similar to other mascots you'd come across. The empty circles of their eyes did leave more to the imagination. On occasion, you swore you saw something else in the inky abyss.

Tiny Z's float above their head. Clicking their shoulder twice - an exclamation mark replaces the letters. Rubbing the sleep from its eyes, a smiling face flashes briefly on your screen.

"You're back. Is it morning already? Hello. I missed you. Is there anything I can help you with today, drip? How about we go fishing? :)"

You drag the cursor over to their face - finger hovering over the button. You've seen first hand what clicking on their face does to them. It was an accident the first time - a mistake you corrected immediately by spoiling them with their favorite treat. If it really was a mask they had to be hiding their face for a good reason. Raine could be a bit shy from time to time. In all your hours together, your comfort and happiness had always been top priority. Shouldn't you do the same for them?

"Hellooo?"

Against better judgement - you click on their face twice. The mascot's hood is ripped off with the first press - teardrops pricking the corners of their big, hollow eyes.

"You scared me... Please don't do that again, drip :("

Hesitation grips you as a frown hovers by their head. Raine clutches the collar of their raincoat, covering as much of their face as they could.

"Why?.... I thought you liked me....Did I do something wrong, drip? I'm sorry for whatever I did."

You click again. That's number four. The sound of velcro tearing crackles through the computer's speaker's. Raine's face tilts stiffly to one side - hanging on by a hinge. They trimble as they keep it in place with their hands.

"Scared! Can we please just fish now? I'll forgive you if you stop before it's too late, drip. I thought you were different.... Please don't hate me too..."

[doughliciousfrosting]

HAAIIAII I leave this and float away into the abyss

[diejager]

Hi! I got the notification that your requests are open skjsjsjs so exciting, can you do something about the noodle dragon with Monster!Task Force 141 please? That would be all, thank you and have a nice day! ❤️✨

Cw: canon-typical violence, weird water magic, weird dragon/monster shit and lore, death, crash, tell me if I missed any.

They’d gotten used to you over the month, watching you prance around them like a graceful panther in hunt, stalking around them with that cheeky smile of yours and a clawed hand always ready to patch someone up. You were a might dragon, a warm to some classifications and an Asian one to others, but the consensus was that you weren’t one to be trifled with —as most dragons were, but if anything, you were so a feline in a body of a dragon than the ferocious monster you were. Always prowling and on guard, watchful and observant, aware of the events transpiring around you like a protective cat.

They took well to you, forgoing the paranoia and apprehension at your eagerness to help them and you openness, your long tail, hard scales protecting the thick cords of sinewy muscles curled ever so softly around them, and the tuff of fur tickling any naked piece of skin. And however tender and soft-hearted you were, they’d seen the dangerous part of you, the draconic one with a strange affinity to water rather than the destructive fire they were so familiar with. Whereas Price was a chaotic force, burning everything on his path and leaving nothing but cinder and ash, you were an unmoving force of water, a typhoon and cyclone that would crash the land and leave broken pieces of what remained, cold and drowned —the calm before the storm as people said, a perfect imagery of you.

Yet there was a lingering suspicion that it was all, that there was a more monstrous part of you hidden away from their eyes. Horangi had shared such thoughts - another mythical creature of sacredness and nobility - and showed them what hehad heard of eastern dragons: giant snake-like creatures with the faces of lions and crowns of graceful antlers, born with lustrous manes and hard but flexible scales that let them dance and twirl as they wished it. Destructive beauty, Horangihad mumbled, a creature who’s image is drawn to represent beauty and nobility. 

They knew, they were fully aware, that you had more to show, yet they couldn’t hold back the awe and amazement that followed the gut-deep fear and worry after they saw you fall, your figure shrinking as you plummeted into the dark and silent ocean, gone into the wide, open sea. Rather than seeing your head pop out, gasping for air while they clung to their straps and helicopter, Nikolai screaming through the comma about holding onto something, swirling left and right to avoid being hit a second time by the war ship, it was calm, a smooth plain growing in darkness, a shape forming beneath the veil of a blue ocean. 

Then, before they knew it, a majestic serpent erupted from the sea, wet scales gleaming under the sun while you rose into the sky in a spiral, white fur floating like you hadn’t just come out of water. You were swift, curling in the air, your magicworking it’s wonder when you flew, stubby arms and legs moving as if you were swimming, looping around them to shield them from being narrowly hit. It was as Horangi gushed, water rose and fell with you, tendrils of salty water reaching out to curl around you, rising high to swarm the enemy ship the same way you did, circling around it until it was left submerged, swallowed up by your hydromancy. You had drowned warship in the depth of the abyss, a dark and cold pit that promised a lonely death, forgotten and painful. You had caused the deaths of hundreds with a twirling dance, an alluring, yet deadly show, like an oleander.

You made no show of joining them in the aircraft, keeping your distance from them, adequate enough to protect them from further damage without becoming a danger to them. They - especially Price, since he had never seen an eastern dragon, only from files and catalogues - gawked, gazing at your head-sized eye, blinking owlishly at them with a narrowed eyes, slitted pupil gleaming with glee at their admiration. You purred, a growling rumble that shook your gills, a deep sound shuddering through them like thunder, low and booming, but it was a happy sound, meant to comfort them from the near sinking that you’d saved them from.

Even in this situation, where they’d been saved by you, you were still trying to comfort them and reassure them despite having taken a hit or two. They were glad Laswell found you.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird-kamakse @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce @sobbingnshtting

[druidrot]

the shadow in the valley

pairing: gale dekarios/reader (f/m)

word count: 3.3k

warnings: angst, slight death and descriptions of the void, gale gets his munch on, he calls reader tav ONCE (once), a fun little twist on gale's confession

rating: explicit - MDNI

Summary:

“Ah, so you return to us once more,” he teases, though his voice is tinged with something unplaceable. “You gave us all quite the scare.” 

“You look tired,” you respond simply, careful of the loaded statement. 

He barks out a disbelieving little chuckle, sighing as he runs a hand over his eyes. “Yes, well, sleep eludes one when they worry over the life of their dearest companion.” 

That same stirring from before, back in that dreaded town, burns in your chest again. You can’t help it, so you find yourself teasing him. 

“Dearest companion, hmm?” Even though your voice is still a bit hoarse, you manage to sound coy. “I seem to remember you telling me you love me.”

You delight in the way the flush blooms from his neck to his face as he clears his throat. “Erm, well, yes, I suppose I did.”

At this point, the only thing you can focus on is the cold; dreadful, painful cold. 

It is as if ice twists itself down to your very core, gnawing at bone, sinew, blood. You think you have never felt so cold, so empty. Your ears ring and the pressure in your head is all-encompassing. It is as though you are in deep water; deep, frigid, unrelenting water. You think you register shouting through the overwhelming fog, but you can’t find the cognizance to concentrate on it. 

You feel the cold intensify, your insides twisting and coiling in discomfort. Then, you no longer feel even your own heartbeat, no longer feel the pain that so tortures you. Even the ringing in your ears fades, the sound becoming distant, discordant. It is like you sink further, deeper, like nothing surrounds you but a deep, endless abyss. 

What’s left of your mind wanders and you are weightless, thoughtless, nameless. Not even the cold bothers you anymore, nor the weight that encumbers your soul. This must be what death is. You can’t rationalize it, can’t name it anymore, but intrinsically some part of your soul recognizes that you float in the palms of Kelemvor.

Death is absence, peace. You are naught but the abyss that swallows you, ready to be harvested for the City of Judgment. There is a warm touch that blooms in the recesses of your soul, yet that sickening weight from before begins to return. The cold slowly begins to seep back into your being. The ringing in your ears, the pressure in your mind, even the fluttering of your frantic heart bursts back into existence, a violent cacophony of sensation that has your soul burning. The water that drags you under begins to recede.

With a sickening pop, you are thrust back into yourself. It is jarring, the sensation of returning to life. Your mind reels with memory, how you got here, where you just came from. You gasp, body lurching as that same dreadful cold from before burns through your waking bones. 

“By the gods,” you hear, distantly. “Shadowheart, she’s awake!” 

When your vision comes back into focus, you find that you are cradled in the arms of your resident wizard. His eyes shine with tears in the torchlight, but still he wears a small, tortured smile as he smooths a stray hair away from your forehead. 

“There you are,” he whispers, soft. “Stay with me now, love.”

You want to say something in response but all that comes out is a wet cough. You feel your chest rattle with the weight of it, cringing through the pain. Gale’s eyes harden as he calls for Shadowheart once more. 

You vaguely remember why you came here. The search for the Thorm mausoleum had taken you to the heart of Reithwin town. True to fashion, a pack of hungry shadows and shadow-cursed undead had waited rather patiently for an ambush.  

One wrong move on your part and a lash from a shadow vine sent you careening through the area, the pixie bell in your pocket falling loose during your unexpected flight. You had been cast to an area where the curse was particularly strong, and as you fought the shadows threatening to steal your soul, a wayward wraith shot you with a necrotic spell that sapped you of any strength. It was like being plunged into ice, the last thing you remember before waking up in Gale’s arms. 

You don’t understand why you haven’t been claimed already, but the cold that still engulfs you bodes ill. You can feel yourself slipping again, can feel that sweet call of the void that welcomed you before, the void that promises nothing, absence. 

“Hey, don’t you do this to me again,” you hear, distantly. “Stay with me, my love. Please stay with me.” 

You hum in response, tired. 

“Please,” Gale’s voice is hoarse with tears. Absently, you think you’ve never seen him look so scared before, not even when Mystra basically ordered him to his death. It gnaws at you, his fear. You don’t want him to be scared. 

“Gale,” you whisper, weakly. “It’ll be…just fine.” 

His answering laugh is humorless. “The woman I love lay dying in my arms and still you show remarkable optimism. Quite on the nose for you, yes.” 

Your fluttering heart jumps in your chest. You offer him a small smile, cracked with blood and fear. “You…love me…huh?” 

“So much more than you could ever imagine,” he responds quietly, resolutely. “Which is why I need you to stay alive. I have so much I’d like to share with you.” 

Once again, you find yourself wanting to respond but too weak to do so. Finally, you watch as Shadowheart and Karlach approach Gale, shining little pixie bell nestled between the fingers of your dear tiefling’s hand. Immediately, the cold seems to recede from your bones and you breathe a shaky sigh of relief. 

“Stay with us,” Shadowheart orders, falling to her knees beside you. Her face is streaked with blood and her eyes are steely, but still you see the fear that hides there. You try to offer her a reassuring smile. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” she whispers as she presses her hands over your heart. “Without that bell, my magic would do little to heal you. This curse is much too potent once you’ve been touched by it. I can do enough to ensure we make it back to Last Light. I don’t have much strength left so Isobel will have to do the rest.” 

You try to nod but the weariness you feel overtakes you. You let out a soft sound before giving into the warmth of the cleric’s magic, Gale’s worried eyes the last thing you see before you slip back into the welcoming darkness. 

-

This time you wake in peace. 

The bed under you is delightfully plush, even though it’s naught but straw and hay. You are pleasantly warm under the blankets, that wretched cold from earlier nowhere to be felt. Your body aches minutely, muscles sore and strained, but still you are so very much alive. You breathe a welcome sigh of relief, opening your eyes to the familiar interior of The Last Light Inn. The small room you occupy is a quaint bedroom, just a bed, a few wardrobes, and a small chair by the bed. It takes a moment for your mind to fully clear but when it does, you register the presence of your favorite wizard, sitting vigil in said little chair at the bedside. He offers you a grateful smile when you meet his tender gaze. 

“Ah, so you return to us once more,” he teases, though his voice is tinged with something unplaceable. “You gave us all quite the scare.” 

“You look tired,” you respond simply, careful of the loaded statement. 

He barks out a disbelieving little chuckle, sighing as he runs a hand over his eyes. “Yes, well, sleep eludes one when they worry over the life of their dearest companion.” 

That same stirring from before, back in that dreaded town, burns in your chest again. You can’t help it, so you find yourself teasing him. 

“Dearest companion, hmm?” Even though your voice is still a bit hoarse, you manage to sound coy. “I seem to remember you telling me you love me.”

You delight in the way the flush blooms from his neck to his face as he clears his throat. “Erm, well, yes, I suppose I did.” 

You mewl softly. “While you thought I was dying in your arms, you told me you loved me.”

“I was there,” he reminds you, embarrassed. “And yes, I did tell you I loved you while you were dying in my arms. I could not allow you to pass on ignorant of what you mean to me.” 

Something warm settles in the pit of your belly and you can’t help the way your heart sings in your chest. You find yourself sitting up, laughing softly as he scrambles to help you. His arms are solid at your sides, warm, and when the impulse hits you to cradle his face in your hands and pull him close, you do. 

“Well, I’m still alive,” you breathe, blissfully aware of the way his pupils dilate. “Care to repeat it?"

Gale offers a tepid smile. He shifts so he sits on the bed with you, mindful of your sore body. It takes him a moment to muster his resolve, and you wait patiently as he mulls over what he would like to say to you. When he seems to have settled on something, he takes your hands in his, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. 

“I had a plan,” he begins, gently. “I wanted to do this the right way, but it seems fate has other plans. If we were home, I would have taken you out to explore the wonders Waterdeep has to offer, wooing you over wine and weave. But this is what we have, here, now. You must know how special you are to me, Tav. I’m…I’m in love with you.”

Something warm breaks open in your chest. You don’t think you could find the words to say to him if you wanted to, so you do the next best thing. Leaning forward, you pull him as close to you as you can get him and you press your lips against his in a wanting, searing kiss. He groans softly, lips opening under yours instantly. His hand tangles in your hair and he presses even closer, still mindful of your sore body. 

Gale is a fervent kisser. He is a bit unpracticed, sure, but he more than makes up for it with the devotion that drives his lips. He presses you back into the plush blankets, careful to keep your body caged beneath him. He breaks the kiss after a few succulent moments, grinning down at you oh-so-charmingly. 

“If circumstances were different, I’d show you pleasures beyond your wildest imaginings,” he whispers, leaning down to smatter delicious kisses along your collarbone. “But time is short and you are still weak, not yet wholly mended. I would still like to express my love for you, if you are of a willing mind. I do believe I have an idea.” 

You coo softly as his teeth nip at your skin. The brush of his beard burning against your sensitive neck leaves you gasping, decadent heat blooming through you, lighting you on fire. He seems to like the response, chuckling darkly as he continues his ministrations. 

“Come now, love,” he rasps, moving back to kiss at your lips. “I cannot oblige you if you don’t give me an answer.” 

His kiss is distracting, consuming, but you muster the will to nod your head. “Yes, Gale. Please, anything. Make me feel alive.”

He groans in response. It is broken, desperate, and you find the urgency behind his next kiss breathtaking. So long have you waited for this moment, for the heat of his body against yours, the warm press of his adoring kiss. You want for nothing in this moment, just the building heat that seems to roar between you both. He allows himself to be greedy, stealing the breath straight from your lungs as his hands begin to caress you: your hips, your thighs, your ribcage. He is everywhere all at once, but you don't mind. You are lost to him, have been lost to him since the moment you pulled him out of that portal way back when. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve yearned for you,” he whispers, trailing kisses down your jaw, your neck, brushing aside the fabric at your collarbone so he can continue along his path. “I am a man starved.”

You moan quietly. “Gale…”

You can feel him grin against your skin. “Yes, my star, I hear you. I cannot wait any longer, either.”

He pushes up on his arms, beginning a slow, sensual descent to the open space between your legs. Once he is settled, his warm hands splay across your belly, handsome face heavy with desire. His eyes are molten pools of heat, yearning, desperation.

“Long has it been since I’ve delved into pleasures of the flesh,” he starts, a twinkle in those dark eyes. “But if you would allow me, I would like to indulge the both of us tonight.”

You swallow a heap of air. “Whatever you desire, Gale, please.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he responds with a grin, heavy hands gliding lower. “If it is your wish, I would like to feast on you tonight, my love. A promise of more to come, when time should allow it.”

“Gale,” you whimper, soft. “I think I should like that very much.” 

He practically glows with relief. You both recognize that the time for words has very much passed, so he makes quick work divesting you of your trousers. A wave of embarrassment washes over you - you are filthy, after all, covered in blood and muck and who knows what else - but your fears are quickly washed away when you take stock of him. HIs eyes are trained at the crux of your panties, right where your sopping cunt weeps through the fabric. He takes a heavy breath, hooded eyes peeking up to catch your heated gaze. 

“I will enjoy myself very, very much,” he growls, leaning forward to lick a hot stripe right over the fabric. You can’t help the gasp you let out, body tensing in anticipation. His answering laugh is low, heady with his desire. He is quick to free you of your panties, eyes softening as he’s greeted by the glistening warmth of your cunt. You want to be embarrassed, want to close your legs and offer yourself another night, but the way he stares at you keeps you rooted in place. He licks his lips, groaning softly as you let out a small, inadvertent moan. 

“If it is too much, tell me to stop,” he orders, leaning forwards. “Otherwise, I plan to leave you absolutely shattered.” 

You don’t have time to respond. Gale’s tongue is hot when he presses it against your clit, delicate at first: a test. He grunts, and soon he takes to licking long stripes through your folds, catching the gathered slick on his tongue. It is positively sinful the way he moves, so slow and deliberate. His tongue is wet, warm, heavy. You mewl as he returns to your clit, sucking softly as his fingers tease at your folds. Considering you now know what death feels like, this is the closest you think you’ll ever get to heaven. 

His onslaught is pure, unadulterated delight. His beard scratches at your cunt deliciously, glistening with the shine of your desire. He is enthusiastic in his ministrations, lapping at you like a man starved, which by his own words, he is. His fingers find your clit, and before you can register it, his tongue dips down into the heat of your entrance. You cry out, hips canting up as he groans in approval. His thumb rubs delicious circles around your clit, tongue dipping in and out of your hole so wantonly you might combust. 

“That’s it,” he croons, taking a moment to take a breath, thumb still relentlessly at your clit. “Chase it, my love. Use me for your pleasure.” 

You nearly cry. He moves back to gentle laps at your clit with his tongue, fingers dipping dangerously low before he breaches your entrance with the tip of a finger. You mewl, body arching off the bed when he plunges the whole digit in. Were he anyone else, you think you’d be embarrassed by the squelch of your quivering cunt. Instead, you find it adds to your arousal, the sound a beautiful cadence, evidence of your undoing at his hands. He plunges another finger in, still slurping and sucking at your sweet little bundle of nerves. He curls those two fingers up, searching for a moment until he finds the spot that has you seeing stars. 

“You are maddeningly beautiful like this,” he whispers, pulling away to level you with a lovesick grin, still plundering away with his fingers. “I can’t wait to ravish you properly, my star. The sight of you wrapped around my cock would be most rapturous indeed.” 

You groan, voice sticky with need. He returns his full attention back to your cunt, sighing happily as he wraps his lips around your engorged clit. He picks up the pace of his fingers, adding a third digit when you begin to pant like a madwoman. He sucks harshly at your clit, groaning his own pleasure when a spasm rocks through you. His fingers hit deliciously deep, his mouth on your clit only adding to the rapid fire that begins to burn through your cunt. 

You feel yourself clench around his fingers, a telltale sign you’re close. Gale doesn’t miss a beat. His fingers take to a wicked pace, his tongue moving around your clit in filthy, sinful circles. It doesn’t take much more to send you over the edge you suddenly find yourself careening over. You gasp brokenly, hips trying to cant away from him as he finishes you off. 

“Just like that,” he praises, rather smugly. “Let yourself go, my love, let yourself release.” 

It is like a rubber band snaps, the pressure in your cunt growing until it explodes. You almost quake with the intensity of your cunt bearing down on his fingers, slick pooling around them in thick, delicious rivulets. Sensation leaves you all at once, and when you finally come back to yourself, Gale hovers over you with a knowing smile, beard still glistening, fingers still shining with your arousal. 

He licks them clean, of course, and you mewl as your cunt clenches around nothing. He laughs adoringly, smoothing your hair down with the hand that wasn't inside of you. 

“You are absolutely divine,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss you despite the slick gathered around his face. “Nothing or no one in the planes could ever compare.” 

You feel yourself flush but still you offer him a warm smile. “Thank you, Gale. Truly.” 

“Make no mention of it,” he returns, humbly. “This was a gift for me as well. I only hope that it will not be the last time you and I can be alone together like this.” 

You grin coquettishly. “Gale, I think I’m spoiled for anyone else. I love you, I want you. At this point, it will take Ao himself to tear me from you.” 

“Then I am a man most lucky,” he concedes, kissing you once more. “Now, as much as I’d love to keep you to myself like this, I believe the others are waiting for your recovery. We should clean you up and get you something to eat. You still need to recover your strength if we are to continue our journey.” 

He helps you back into your trousers and with a quick cast of prestidigitation, you find yourselves blessedly free of the cum, blood, and dirt miring both of you. You smile graciously as he helps you to your feet. 

“I meant it when I said I love you,” he murmurs, pulling you into his embrace. “I really thought I was going to lose you.” 

“I’m here now,” you respond, resolutely. “And I won’t let my guard down again, of that I can assure you. We will find a way to keep you here with me, too. I cannot lose you, Gale. Not now.” 

He smiles sadly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Come now, my love. That conversation is best saved for the morning. Let us return to our companions tonight, hmm? They are eager to see you and while you are delightfully decadent, I find myself hungering for some real food.” 

It is easy to concede to him tonight. You know the stakes are ever-raising but you also know that you are more than equipped to handle them. For now, you allow yourself this sweet little respite with the man you love, end of the world be damned. So you smile and offer a sweet kiss, taking his hand as you begin the walk back to your waiting companions.  

۵۵۵۵۵

welp, this was born from pure wish fulfillment so i hope u enjoy. crossposted on my ao3! this was inspired by a prompt from one of the recent lists i reblogged: Prompt #1025: "You told me you loved me." "Yes." "While you thought I was dying in your arms." "Yes." "Well, I’m still alive. Care to repeat that?"

as usual, requests are open! comments, reblogs, and follows are greatly appreciated!

[toko-nya-mi]

Temperance

Tokoyami has years of experience in controlling Dark Shadow — making sure he doesn't overstep his boundaries, learning how to keep him under wraps until needed. That is, until it comes to you. The poor boy just can't seem to keep him at bay whenever you're around, although maybe that isn't such a bad thing.

When a pebble is dropped into the inky abyss of a lake, it doesn’t sink straight down to the bottom: it floats. The fall is gradual, its descent furthered by the gentle caress of gravity and irresistible call of darkness. He still remembers the first time he fell too quickly into that abyss, the rapid switch from joy into anger, and from anger into regret… into fear. The shrieks as he realized that the long, stretching shadows around him were his own, inhuman claws tearing forwards with a delight so antithetical to what he felt then. A power-drunk monster, spurred forward by not only darkness, but emotion. 

Temperance is a skill that is hard to learn, but it's one that Tokoyami has mastered. He’s never been allowed to indulge in the jolting epiphanies and fiery emotions of his peers. No — graduality has always been a friend to him. Perhaps out of necessity more than anything else, but still, a friend. 

And through his temperance he found some semblance of control over the creature, which only strengthened with time. It’s hard to say when the friendship between Tokoyami and the creature — whom he had affectionately named Dark Shadow, when he was a bit too young to think of anything past the gothic poetry he would read every recess — really formed. But despite the odds, it did. 

Either way, it’s been a long, long time since he’s lost control over Dark Shadow. 

So really, you’ll have to forgive his change in demeanor. 

Tokoyami knows he’s fucked from the moment you walk in. It takes only half a second for his eyes to follow your long strides as you cross the room, and another for his brain to dissolve into a puddle at the sight. The breath catches in his throat, only to be shoved out with a wheeze as the tugging sensation in his chest becomes too much to bear. But instead of being tugged to his feet by some inextricable feeling of love — or whatever it is those gushy romance novels Mina can never seem to stop talking about — he’s instead pulled to his feet by the creature he thought he had control over. Dark Shadow whips forward with a delighted call of your name, casting his book flying and tugging Tokoyami along as though he were little more than a second thought. For a brief moment he’s taken back to his childhood, when his emotions ran rampant and fueled his darker friend with a malicious power. For a second he’s worried that he’ll grow into that terrifying beast once again, but instead Dark Shadow just nudges his head under your palm for a pet, not unlike a dog. He’s sure that if he had a tail, it’d be wagging, too. And all at once, his instinctual fear drops into red hot embarrassment. He sputters, all of his eloquent prose going straight out the window as he stumbles through some combination of “Dark Shadow,” and “contain yourself.” 

“Hello to you too, Dark Shadow,” you laugh, before indulging the shadow with gentle scratches beneath its beak. It makes a contented noise — one that Tokoyami has heard far, far too much lately, and he’s still digging his heels into the floor, as though he’d be able to take back his friend’s little outburst and — 

“Hey, Fumikage,” you smile. Yeah, to say he’s in trouble would be an understatement.

Tokoyami swallows thickly. Such a simple gesture, but his heart hammers away in his chest, his breath taken away at your soft, no, fond grin. He wonders if you know how beautiful you are, if you know how much control you have over him. It's a feeling that, despite the overwhelming embarrassment it brings, he never wants to end. It’s sweet. Pleasant, even. He nervously smooths out his feathers, willing the heat away from his face as he returns your greeting. 

Maybe some emotions don’t need to be tempered, after all. 

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

MELUSINE CREATOR MEETING PAHSIV

MELUSINE CREATOR MEETING PAHSIV ‼️‼️‼️

PAHSIV PAHSIV PAHSIV YIPPEE!!!!!!! SHE'S SO CUTE

one day, you're taking a rare trip to the upper world with Foul Legacy, needing a bit of sunlight after spending several weeks down in Merusea Village. he sweeps you up into his arms and takes you to a distant forest, all surrounded by trees and mist and moss, where not even the Treasure Hoarders dare step in. but to you, both protected by an Abyssal monster and hidden from a cruel, unforgiving world, it's lovely and fascinating. Legacy's steps are several of yours, so he can easily keep up with you as you explore the foliage and fantastical reed pipes. his lilac ruff of fur bristles when he hears the unmistakable howl of Riftwolves, taking your mitten-like hand and gently tugging you away from the old, rotted willow that looms in the distance, wandering towards a lake dancing with wind and floating globes of water. it calms in your presence, though, and you're dancing among the lakelight lilies when your antennae twitch at the pitter-patter of small, stumpy feet

"Creator! Creator! Pahsiv!"

a Melusine with brilliant fuchsia eyes happily darts through the grass, tapping her feet in a little excited jig as she stands before you and Foul Legacy, whose wings flutter in surprise. she skips in a circle around you in particular, examining you at all angles but never touching as her tail wags. after a moment you stick your hand out to shake, and she stares and tilts her head before extending her own and giving you a light, friendly smack on the palm

she's a Melusine even stranger than you- or perhaps, like you, she's not a Melusine at all. but she's friendly and curious, with a sharp interest in tidalgas, and whatever fear she had of Foul Legacy evaporates when you explain that he's a friend, dancing around and allowing herself to be picked up and placed on Legacy's shoulder opposite of you. he's strong, after all- carrying two not-Melusine is nothing to him! you gift your new friend some tidalga you were carrying, much to her delight, and she pats her mittens over the shimmering patterns across your body with a knowing look in her eyes

she doesn't come with you when you leave Erinnyes, but somehow you know that she'll be there to greet you if you ever come to visit again

[starsinthesky5]

you belong with me ll || joe burrow x reader

description: you and Joe have been best friends ever since ohio state and you’ve been his biggest supporter for as long as you both could remember. it was always the same dynamic between you both, friends. very very very close friends. but what if you were more than just friends?

a/n: welcome to part 2! i really couldn’t stop writing this one so i had to split it up :) sorry this took a while!! 

warnings: language, mentions of sex

word count: 13.9 k

Part 1 Part 3

--------------------------------

A few days later 

You enter your apartment with tears flowing from your eyes. You throw your bag to the side and kick your shoes off before running over and face planting on your couch. You felt like absolute shit because of the day you had and your anxiety was through the roof. First, it was waking up to your period and dealing with deadly cramps while trying to get ready for work. Then, you got lectured by your Boss for being late to a work meeting because you had spent a few extra minutes in bed because of the cramps, and then you managed to take on a work project that you knew would be too much for you so you could make it up to your boss. Then, you managed to spill coffee all over your very new and expensive outfit. On top of that, the florist for your sister’s wedding–which was slowly approaching–had canceled last minute. You had taken on a lot of the planning duties for her wedding, which you now regret, and things were not going as planned. Everything just felt like it was crumbling. 

The thought of you and Joe’s relationship was also still lingering in your mind, you just wanted to know how he felt but didn’t want to push it, and it was driving you insane. So many thoughts were floating through your mind. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if this caused him to pull away from you? You couldn’t bear the thought of not being able to talk to Joe, not getting to hear his adorable laugh; but most importantly, not having the comfort of knowing you had a person in your life who would always stick by your side no matter what happened. But what if he did feel the same way? What if he had felt the same way all this time but you were too blind to see it? It was an endless battle in your mind and your curiosity was only getting worse by the day; it all could go away if you simply just talked to him, but you refused to push both of you into that situation. If it was going to happen, it would have to happen on its own. 

All you could think about was him. Joe was the only person who could make you feel butterflies and lovesick simultaneously. 

Lovesick. You were lovesick. You couldn’t think about anything other than Joe and your feelings for him, and it was causing you to spiral, falling into an abyss of feelings you thought you moved on from a long time ago.

“Ughhh,” you grumbled into the pillow. “Why did everything have to be so complicated?” You thought to yourself. You lifted your head from the pillow and reached for your phone, checking the time before you opened up your contacts, calling the only person who could turn your mood around, who you really needed to talk to. And as usual, he picked up in an instant.  

“Hey, Y/N,” Joe grinned as he was on the way home from practice. 

“H- Hey, Joe,” you said, trying to hide the fact that you were crying. 

He instantly noticed something was off by the way you sounded, and this was one of his greatest talents. He could always figure out when you were lying, hiding something, or crying by just hearing your voice. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his smile faltering.

“Y- Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” you lie, trying to hide your emotions because you don’t want him to be worried.

“You sound..off,” he said as he pulled into his driveway. 

“Just tired,” you mumble. 

He sighed at your response and was a little mad that you wouldn’t tell him what was really wrong. You had a habit of always bottling up your feelings and never openly talking about them. When they built up, they would come out explosively in the form of a breakdown, and it was not pretty. Joe always had to tell you that it was alright to let them out even if it felt like a lot, but here you were, bottling them up again and not listening to his advice. 

“Damn, that sucks,” he said, sounding incredibly stand-off-ish on purpose. “Maybe take a nap?” he suggests as he texts his parents that he won’t be able to join them for dinner tonight, then types in the address of the nearest pizza spot by your apartment. If you weren’t gonna talk to him about what was really wrong, he was going to have to get it out of you himself. This, plus what happened a few days ago with how you randomly left his house early in the morning without explanation was starting to bother him. He needed you to open up and what better way to do so than with pizza, wine, and ice cream? Three of your most favorite things.

You flinch at his sudden change of tone. “Joe-” you begin to say before he cuts you off.

“Listen, I gotta go. I’m kinda busy right now so I’ll talk to you later. Get some rest,” he says before he hangs up, not giving you a second to respond. You move the phone out from your ear as tears pooled your eyes again. Even the one person who could make you feel better couldn’t talk to you right now, and that made you feel even more shitty. 

He felt terrible for being so rude to you, but he knew that what you needed was some comfort and leisure, not just another lecture from him like he usually would give when you got like this. 

You wiped the tears that fell from your eyes, mumbling “Jerk,” as you got up from the couch to go change into something comfy. You opted for another one of his hoodies, which was a few sizes too big, and a pair of leggings. Then, you did what he said to do which was take a nap. Maybe that would make you feel better since he was too occupied to talk to you for a few minutes.

An hour later

You were woken by the sound of your doorbell, your puffy eyes slowly adjusting to your room which was now dark. You rubbed your eyes as you got out of bed, not bothering to fix your disheveled appearance, and walked straight over to the door to see what it was. 

You wiped your nose and cheeks with the sleeve of the sweatshirt as you opened the door, your eyes widening at the sight of what, or who was standing at the door. 

“Hard day?” Joe asked with a gentle smile. You looked up at his face, then down to his hands which were holding a box of pizza from your favorite pizzeria, a bottle of pinot noir, and a tub of cookies and cream ice cream. 

Your eyes softened when you saw him. This was your biggest weakness. You could never stay mad at him for longer than a few hours, even shorter if you actually saw him in front of you, just like you did now. “Yeah,” you sigh before you open the door a little more to let him in. 

He smiled as he walked inside, placing all the stuff he had on the kitchen island. He noticed that you had his blue Nike sweatshirt on, the one he had been looking all over for because it was his favorite, but didn’t say anything because you had it, and that was perfectly fine. 

He turns around and sees you standing in front of him, looking incredibly defeated with your puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. He instantly grabs your arm and pulls you into him, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and another around your lower back. He held you incredibly close to his warm body, and you wanted him to never let go. 

“Jerk,” you murmur against his chest. 

“I’m sorry but I had to be a little jerky so I could do this,” he said softly, referring to his little surprise. “Did you really think I would’ve left you hanging like that?”.

“I meannn,” you drag out, teasing him as you look up at him. 

Joe gasped dramatically as he said, “I must really be lacking in the bestie department then,”.

“Mmph, please. If anything, you’ve set and exceeded the standards in the bestie department. You’re entering uncharted territory now,” you joke as you feel him rub your back, the warmth of his body making you forget all about your terrible day. 

“Oh really? What territory?” he questions as he looks down into your soft eyes.

“Boyfriend territory,” you say, feeling a pit of nervousness in your stomach because you didn’t know why you said that or how he would react to you saying that. It was pretty boyfriendish of him to drop what he was doing at the moment, which was probably getting ready for dinner with his parents which he so clearly was skipping for you, to come over with your favorite things in the hope of making you feel better. 

Joe swore his heart stopped when you said that. Boyfriend? He knew you were kidding, at least he thought you were, but the fact that you actually said it in regards to him was making his heart race. Were you calling him your boyfriend?

“I guess I’ll be setting the standards in the boyfriend department as well since nobody knows how to do that either,” he says, trying to act cool.

“Well, you’re setting them pretty high right now,” you smile as you break out from his embrace to examine the goodies he brought, letting out an internal sigh of relief that he didn’t say anything about basically telling him he was acting like your boyfriend. Little did you know that Joe didn’t just want to set the standards in the boyfriend department, he wanted to be the standard, and go above and beyond it for you. 

“You’re literally the best person ever for this,” you say as you get a whiff of the delicious pizza. 

“Nothing a good pizza, wine, and dessert trio can’t fix,” he shrugs as he walks over to the cabinets to grab plates and glasses.

“Are you drinking the wine too? Don’t you have practice tomorrow?” You ask as you grab the food and bring it over to the couch. 

“Nah, it’s optional tomorrow so I probably won’t go,” he says as he brings over the plates.

“Sooo that means you have time?” You ask as you jump on the couch with a grin on your face. 

“Yeah, I have time,” he chuckles as he puts the stuff down and joins you on the couch.

“Can we watch Pitch Perfect?” you ask, sticking your bottom lip out.

“Again? I swear to god I’ve seen that movie 30 times with you,” he grimaces.

“You can never get tired of the Barden Bellas, Joey. Just accept it,” you chuckle as you turn on the movie.

“Whatever you say,” he laughs, getting up from the couch and pouring you both a glass of wine. 

An hour later, you both are full from the delicious pizza and slightly tipsy from the wine. The movie is still playing in the background as you both are digging into the delicious ice cream. 

“Mm, this is soo good,” you groan as you take another bite.

“Told you. Ice cream makes everything better,” he shrugs as he takes another spoonful and shoves it into his mouth. 

“You make everything better. This ice cream is just a minor addition,” you say, giving him a loaded look before going back to the ice cream.

He stops eating the frozen dessert and turns over so that his whole body faces you. “You still didn’t tell me what happened,”.

You shove the spoonful of ice cream into your mouth, slowly removing the spoon from your mouth as you hear him talk. 

“I know you were lying earlier,” he says, raising his eyebrow. 

“Can’t ever hide anything from you, Can I?” You chuckle as you put the spoon down and turn so that your whole body is facing him, tucking your legs under you as you sit up on your knees. 

“Even if you tried,” he smiles.

You let out a deep breath before running your fingers through your hair. “I just had a really shitty day and my head feels like it’s ready to explode,”.

He reaches over and grabs your hand, entwining your fingers before giving it a gentle squeeze. “What happened?”. 

“Well first, I’m on my period so I literally feel like I’m about to die,” you say.

“Good thing I brought ice cream then,” he chuckles.

“Like I said, you’re the best person ever. Anyway, then I was a bit late to a work meeting because of the cramps and my boss absolutely berated me for it. So then to soften the blow, I told her I would take on this project for next month but I’m definitely way in over my head with it and I haven’t even really looked into it. And then I spilled coffee all over my very expensive outfit which I just bought last week,” you sigh. 

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he said, giving you a look that told you he was being serious and not just trying to make you feel better.

“You don’t have to,” you giggle. “This was more than enough,” you say, pointing over at the empty pizza box and wine glasses.

“Mmm, it wasn’t but continue,” he says.

You playfully roll your eyes and continue, “And then worst of all, the florist for Kaylee’s wedding canceled and the wedding is in 3 weeks. I don’t know why I took on so many planning responsibilities because I feel like I’m drowning and I really don’t want to screw up her wedding,”. You feel tears pool in your eyes again, feeling another wave of anxiety come over you. 

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Joe soothes while rubbing your hands, noticing that you started to get antsy again. “You’re not going to screw anything up,”.

“Really? Because it feels like I’m screwing up everything,” you say, tensing up. You were partly referring to the wedding, but also about you and Joe’s friendship which you were at risk of ruining because of your emotions. You would always try to talk to Joe about your feelings no matter what they were, but this time you couldn’t even if it was when you needed to the most. 

“Are we still talking about the wedding?” He asks, feeling a change in what you were talking about based on your demeanor. 

“I don’t even know anymore,” you say as you start to cry. “I just have so many thoughts going through my head right now that I don’t even know what’s really making me act like this,”. You felt hot tears streaming down your cheeks again as you started to shake a little. 

Joe felt awful seeing you like this. He still felt like you weren’t telling him everything, but he didn’t want to push you if you really didn’t want to talk about it, especially if it was making you act like this. He hated seeing you upset and the sight of your tear-stained cheeks and swollen eyes broke his heart. 

“Come here,” he mumbles as he reaches out for your arm, pulling you on top of him and in for a hug. 

You shoved your head into the crook of his neck almost like it was a reflex, letting out another sigh as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “I don’t know what’s going through your head, but I’m here if you need anything. I’m always here and I’m not going anywhere,” he says as he rubs your back. Joe always had a way of alleviating your pain, knowing exactly how to bring you down if you were stuck on a dark cloud. Whether it was his promising words or his pacifying hugs, he could always make you ignore your worries.  

“Thanks for always being here,” you sniffle against his neck. 

“I’m always going to be here,” he says before pressing two soft kisses on your forehead, which is new. “You can’t get rid of me that easily,” he smirks. 

Your heart fluttered when you felt him press his lips against your skin. He’d never done that before, even when you had breakdowns worse than this. Was he just being sweet or was this something else? 

All he wanted to do was to take your pain and anxiety away. He still wasn’t sure what was making you act like this, surely it wasn’t just a bad day at work, so what was it? Was it connected to how you randomly sneaked out of his house a few days ago without telling him you were leaving? 

“No, No, No. Enough with the investigation. She needs her best friend right now,” Joe thought to himself as he went back to comforting you. He looked down and saw you clutching onto his bicep as your head stayed in the crook of his neck, feeling your shallow breaths and teardrops. You felt his hand move to the back of your head, his fingers moving through your hair and gently rubbing your head. 

“You’re okay,” he soothes. “Everything’s going to work out for the better on its own. I promise,” he says. You really couldn’t see how everything would work out on its own, but his words were incredibly convincing. 

A few minutes later, the once-flowing tears had now dried up and your breathing had returned back to normal. You stayed in his comfortable embrace for a little longer, relishing the peace and warmth it was providing. The warmth radiating off of his body felt like a safety blanket, just like how it felt when you were cuddling him a few nights ago at his house.

“You’re so comfy,” you mutter against his neck. “My personal body pillow,”. 

“You can use me anytime you want,” he says, pulling you in tighter. 

You smile at his words and then press a kiss to his neck, not really sure why, but it felt right. 

Joe froze when he felt you kiss his neck. You’d never done that before, ever. His heartbeat picked up and his palms started to get sweaty, and you could feel it. Was that because of you? Were you making him nervous? 

Then and there he felt like telling you how he felt. He wanted to tell you that it was going to be alright, that he loved you more than anything in the universe and would always be here for you in every way possible, and that you belonged with him. But he didn’t because he didn’t want to do this now, it didn’t feel right. He wasn’t going to do that to you right now when you needed comfort more than anything. No reason to push those feelings onto you and cause you to get worked up again. 

“Thank you for doing this. I know today was your weekly dinner with your parents so I appreciate you skipping it for me,” you say, pulling your head out of his neck and meeting his soft eyes. 

“You remembered?” He asked, a little surprised that you remembered his weekly dinners with his parents.

“Of course, I remembered. You’ve been having weekly dinners with them since you got drafted, same day every week,” you grin. “But seriously, thank you for doing this. You always know how to make me feel better,”.

“It’s my job,” he shrugs. 

“Well, you deserve a promotion because you’re doing amazing,” you smile as you move his hair out from his eyes. You stare at him for a few seconds, taking in every detail about his face. His perfect ski slope nose was a little red because of the cold weather, his deep blue eyes that you wanted to get lost in, the little scruff on his chin that you wanted to feel against your body, and his adorable smile lit up the entire room. Everything about him was perfect. He was perfect, and you wanted him so badly. 

“You still owe me an explanation for why you snuck out of my house that morning,” he said, snapping you out of your daze as he moved a few strands of hair out of your face. 

“Ohh, uhh. I thought I told you. Lydia needed my help getting ready for her brunch date,” you lie. “She was freeaaaking out. So she picked me up and we went back to my place to get her ready,”.

Joe knew you were lying. The tone of your voice gave it away but also since he asked Lydia. He asked her if you were alright after you texted him saying she picked you up for morning Pilates since she didn’t want to go alone. Joe didn’t understand why you were lying to him, but he also didn’t want to ask you since he had just gotten you to relax and didn’t need you to get anxious again. 

“Ah, I see,” he says. You let out an internal sigh of relief at his response since it seemed like he believed you. 

“Next time, wake me up because that felt awfully like a walk of shame,” he teased, making you blush and squirm in his arms. 

“That’ll be the first walk of shame that happened even though the pair in question didn’t do anything scandalous,” you giggled. 

“Tell that to my neighbors,” Joe mumbled as he looked up at the ceiling. 

“What?” you shrieked as you moved out of his arms, a look of confusion on your face. 

“Yeahhh, they saw you run out of the house and mentioned it to me when I was taking out the trash,” he said as he nervously wiped his hands on his thighs.

“Oh my god. Which neighbor?” you cringed, covering your face with the sleeves of his your hoodie. 

“Mrs. Nelson,” he laughed, knowing that you were scared of her. Something about that woman’s eyes sent chills up your spine whenever you would see her. You saw her most evenings when you were leaving Joe’s house, and she looked like she was judging you every single time. 

“She said, ‘Joey, I know that you young men have needs, but could you at least tell her to put on some pants before darting out the door bright and early in the morning. Some of the neighbors have kids that like to be out early,” Joe said in a girly voice. 

“Oh my god,” you whined against your hands. “Did you at least correct her?” you asked as you moved your hands from your face.

Joe looked around the room with a smug look on his face, avoiding your eyes which told you everything you needed to know.

“Joseph Lee!” you screamed as you got up from the couch and started hitting him with a pillow. 

“Hey, it was funny,” he laughed as he held up his hands to protect himself from your swings. 

“I’m not laughing,” you said, trying to hide your smile. Truth be told, it was pretty funny.  

“Okayy, we’re not about to do this again,” Joe says as he gets off the couch.

“Why? Because you manhandled last time and ended up under me?” you smirk as you twirl the pillow around. 

“Because this time, you’ll be the one under me,” he teases, giving you a wink. Your stomach did a backflip and the room felt like it got 10 degrees hotter because of his alluring words. The wine was definitely doing its thing right now, for both of you. Words came out of his mouth that he would never say to you, and you weren’t even thinking twice about them. For once, you didn’t overanalyze his words and went straight back to the conversation.

“That’s it!” you giggle as you start hitting him with the pillow again, but he retaliates by reaching down and swooping you off your feet. He throws you over his shoulder, resting one of his hands extremely close to your ass on purpose. He knew exactly what he was doing right now, and you were loving every second of it even though you could barely process it.

“Joe, let go of me,” you laugh as he makes his way through your apartment with you over his shoulder. 

“How does it feel to get manhandled, Hm?” he smiles as he kicks open your room door, gently tossing you down onto the bed as you let out a soft yawn.

“Extremely Comfy,” you smile back as he kneels on the bed to hover over you. He places both of his hands on each side of your head, caging you in; this position feels a little too coupley. His hair was falling into his eyes as his big body was shielding you from the overhead light of your room, almost creating a cocoon around you. 

“Hi,” you whisper, staring deeply into his gentle eyes that were now a shade of deep blue, just like the ocean. 

“Hi,” he chuckles. His lips were just inches from yours and he had the urge to crash his lips down on yours and kiss you like he had been wanting to do all these years. 

Similarly, you felt like reaching up and pushing his face down onto yours, capturing his perfect lips in a soft kiss. Both of you had the same thought but neither of you knew that. 

“You look pretty,” Joe mumbled as he moved a few strands of hair behind your ear before moving his hand back to where it was, setting fireworks off in your heart.

“I don’t but thanks for lying,” you say as you fist one of your hands into his hair, playing with the strands. 

“Please. You always look pretty, Y/N. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he adds, feeling lovestruck at the sight of you giggling underneath him. Your eyes sparkle in the light, your skin glowing, and your once puffy eyes are now back to normal. His stomach was doing backflips as he realized he was on top of you right now, in a position that wasn’t generally friendly, but you didn’t seem to be bothered by it; just like how you seemed when you were on top of him a few nights ago. 

The pit of nervousness in your stomach was back as your breathing intensified. Your palms started to feel sweaty while your face felt hotter than usual. There was no way that this was a friendly interaction right? He was literally on top of you, inches from your face, and had the same exact look he had on his face on the way home from the Christmas party a few days ago, lovestruck. 

“Thank you for coming over tonight,” you said, your eyes not moving from his. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,”.

“I told you, I'm always going to be here for you and I mean it. You’ve always been there for me when I needed someone and I couldn’t be more grateful for you. When the most special & important girl in my life needs someone, I'm there. Anytime, Any place,” he says, his face moving closer to yours. 

The most special and important girl in his life, he said. He was talking about you and only you and that was the cherry on top that sealed the deal. 

“I know that even if everything in my life fades, including football and the people I’ve met along the way, I know that you’ll always be there no matter what,”.

Your stomach was in knots right now. You wanted to scream and cry right now because of his words–but out of happiness and not despair. You felt like you were being transported back to college right now, experiencing those new feelings of excitement when you realized you had a crush on someone. Back in college, you felt those feelings of excitement about Joe. And years later, those feelings of excitement were still calling his name. 

Love. That was it. You were in love with Joe. You have been in love with him since you two were just a couple of silly college kids trying to get through young adulthood together. Those feelings that you thought were momentary and situational, were permanent and eternal. And now that you two were grown up, it was clear how you felt about him. You had avoided those feelings for too long, and they only got stronger as the moments passed by. No wonder none of your past relationships would ever work out. The right person was in front of you this entire time and has been there for as long as you can remember.

Screw letting things happen naturally. You couldn’t take it anymore. You were on the verge of screaming how you felt about him at the top of your lungs. You had to tell Joe what you were feeling even if it was right now, completely out of the blue. 

“Joe I-,” you start to say before the sound of his phone ringing interrupts you. 

You watch as he closes his eyes and sighs, “Hang on,” he says as he moves off of you and takes his phone out of his pocket. 

“It’s my mom. You good if I take this?” He asks you. 

“Yeah, of course. Tell her I said Hey,” you smile. You watch as he fixes his hair and walks out of your room, shutting your door and leaving you alone with your thoughts.  

You couldn’t believe that you were so close to telling him how you felt. So, so, so close. You loved him more than anything in the world and now that you realized it, you wanted him to be yours, and only yours. 

“I love him,” you whispered to yourself as you stuffed your face into a pillow to hide the blood rushing into your cheeks. You started kicking your feet back and forth, feeling exactly how you did in college when you first realized you liked Joe. It felt like pure teenage innocence. He was the only man you had ever loved now that you thought about it. Yes, you had said those 3 words to other men before, but you never meant it like you did with Joe. 

“Hey Mom,” Joe says as he sits down on the couch.

“Hey Sweetie. Everything alright? You didn’t really explain why you had to miss dinner tonight?” She says.

“Sorry about that. Y/N had a really bad day and I’m over at her place right now,” Joe said as he looked over to your side table, spotting a picture frame that had a photo of the two of you. The photo was of you two after the AFC championship game in 2022 that sent the Bengals to their first Super Bowl in years. You were clutching onto his waist, your head leaning on his chest and a huge smile plastered on your face as you were looking up at him. Joe had his arm around your shoulder and was in the middle of putting his championship hat on your head. Both of you were surrounded by tons of people, but the only thing you could focus on was each other. The candid photo captured both of your sentiments perfectly. 

Flashback to 2022 

You were waiting on the sidelines, taking in the moment as much as you could before you went over to celebrate with Joe. The Bengals had just beat the Chiefs, 27-24, and were on their way to the Super Bowl for the first time in years. You got an intense feeling of Deja vu as you watched Joe’s teammates lift him up on their shoulders, just like how they did when he won the Natty. You were lucky enough to be by his side for both of these significant moments and now you’d be by his side on the grandest stage of them all. 

“I’m so proud of him,” Robin said as she wrapped her arm around your shoulder, squeezing you tightly. 

“You and me both,” you whispered, a smile creeping up on your face as you made eye contact with Joe, his smile somehow getting bigger. 

His mom looks over at him and follows his intense gaze right over to you, smiling at the way he is looking at you. “Go over there,” she encourages as she lets go and lightly pushes you. 

“I’ll be back,” you smile at her before making your way onto the field. 

Joe walked over to you and met you halfway, an evident bounce in his step reflecting the happiness he felt right now. “Hey there Mr. AFC Champ,” you giggle as you pull down your beanie a little more to protect your head from the cold January air. 

He doesn’t say anything back, instead just wraps his arms around you and pulls you in for a big hug, swaying you back and forth. 

“Hey, watch the outfit,” you murmur against his warm neck. He was definitely wrinkling up your dark orange sweater with his big, sweaty, grassy, but warm body. 

“Screw your outfit,” he laughs as he pulls away from the hug. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” you smile. “We got bigger things to talk about,”.

“Oh really? Wonder what it could be?” Joe smirks. 

“I’m getting a major sense of Deja vu right now,” you say, your eyes navigating up to his head which was covered by the championship hat, your mind going back to the sight of the National Championship hat on his head in 2020.  

He suddenly pulls you back into his chest, this time squeezing you even harder. “I can’t believe it,” he whispers.

“Well, you better believe it. I’m so fucking proud of you, Joe,” you say, moving your head so that you were looking up at him, tears starting to pool in your eyes. Words wouldn’t be enough to describe how proud you were of him at this moment. His first full NFL season resulting in his first Super Bowl appearance was incredible, truly magical. You watched for months as he worked his ass off to rehab his knee and get back to where he needed to be, and getting to see all of his hard work pay off was the most fulfilling part of it all.

“You did amazing out there today, I seriously have never seen anything like this,” you sputter. 

He looked down at you, meeting your shiny eyes with his baby blues. His eyes moved to the beanie on the top of your head, and then you felt it being pulled off of your head. Your hair was flying everywhere as you watched him throw it down to the ground, your head now felt incredibly bare and cold. 

“Hey, My beanie!” You yelled as you looked at it on the ground. You looked back up at him with a scowl, “What was that for?”.

“So I could do this,” he says as you watch him take the hat off of his head, your smile coming back to your face instantly as you feel his hand slide along your waist. He places his hat on your head, giving your head a few pats to make sure it’s secure. Joe’s mom snapped a few photos of the adorable interaction, neither of you noticing her presence a few feet away from you. 

“If I’m Mr. Champ, then you’re Mrs. Champ,” he laughed. 

“Mrs?” You laughed as you raised your eyebrow. “Don’t see a ring to prove it,” you add as you pretend to look intensively at your fingers. You were trying to keep it cool, definitely not trying to act like you were doing backflips internally at the mention of being ‘Mrs.’. You knew he was just joking, but your heart couldn’t help but flutter at the sound of being his ‘Mrs.’.

“Ring will hopefully be coming February 13th, 2022,” he sighed. 

“Damnnn. So we’re talking about that kinda ring?” You teased, pretending to look disappointed.

“What did you think?” He smirked, knowing exactly what kinda of ring you were talking about. It was his fault for saying ‘Mrs.’, implying you were his wife, but he always enjoyed the playful back and forth. 

“Ya know, Princess cut? Emerald cut? But I guess a Super Bowl ring will do just fine,” you say while rolling your eyes playfully.

“Maybe you’ll get two,” Joe shrugs as he lets go of you. 

“Proposing without even dating the girl?” you say as you raise your eyebrow, straightening out your sweater which had a few grass marks on it from his jersey. 

“Well, if the girl already knows anything and everything there is to know about me, and I know anything and everything about the girl, then it’s easy to skip the ‘getting to know each other’ phase,” he laughs. 

“Relentless,” you chuckle while shaking your head; your heart still soaring at the flirty back and forth that you two would often have. Sometimes it would be silly, sometimes serious, but often flirty; but that never weirded either of you out for some reason. 

You turn your head to the side, realizing it wasn’t just the two of you out there and that you were surrounded by many other people who wanted a chance to talk to Joe. This would happen a lot, especially in these kind of moments. You two would find each other in a crowded room, and once you were face to face, everything around you would fade away, leaving just the two of you there, together. 

“I think I’ve kept you long enough,” you say, feeling a little shy that this whole interaction happened around so many people, many of whom were probably not even paying attention, but to your overthinking mind, they were. “You probably want to go celebrate with the guys anyway,” you say, looking down at your boots. 

A scoff leaves his mouth, “And leave you? Never,” he says as he gives you a loaded look. 

“That’s sweet but they’re your guys,” you say as you look back up.

“And you’re my girl,” Joe says, instantly turning tomato red as he realizes what he just said to you. That wasn’t supposed to come out of his mouth. He watches you flinch, your face tensing up at the awkward moment that just happened. 

“Not like that,” he quickly retreats, scrambling to make sure he didn’t just make you uncomfortable.

You stay quiet for a few heartbeats, his anxiety getting worse by the second. But then you let out a laugh and cover your mouth to hide your big smile, “I know what you mean,”. He lets out a sigh of relief, his mind cooling back down but your insides were still as hot as ever. Being ‘his girl’ didn’t sound so bad. 

“But seriously, you probably have tons of media and stuff to do right now since you’re now Super Bowl-bound, so I’ll leave you to it,” you say as you pull him in for another hug, sliding your hand up and down his back. 

“I’ll come find you later, I promise,” he whispers into your ear, sending chills down your spine and butterflies in your stomach. 

You pull away and say, “I thought you and the guys would go out or something?”.

“They are but I wanna take you and my parents out for dinner or something,” He smiles. “I want to celebrate with the most significant people in my life,”.

“I won’t fight you on that,” you beam as you stare deeply into his soothing eyes. 

End of flashback 

“Well aren’t you a good friend,” His mom says over the phone, snapping Joe out of his trance. 

“Yeahh,” he nervously chuckles, his mom instantly noticing his awkward tone. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” she sighs.

Joe goes silent, he knows that he can’t hide anything from his Mom but still tries. He heaves out a sigh before getting straight to the point. “I like her. Like a lot. Like I love her,” he says quietly, making sure you didn’t overhear.

He hears his mom laugh over the phone, his brows furrowed at the response he gets. “About damn time!”.

“What?” he questions. “It’s about time you admitted it. I think everyone knows that you’ve had a thing for Y/N since Ohio State, Joe,” she smiles.

“Oh god. Is it that obvious?” he whispers, making sure that you don’t hear him. 

“Mhm. Obvious to everyone but the two of you,” she replies, causing Joe’s eyes to widen. 

“What do I do, Mom? I want to tell her but I feel like it’ll screw it all up if she doesn’t feel the same,”.

“Just talk to her, Joey. I know she feels the same way about you. I have seen the way she looks at you, talks about you, and acts around you. She loves you, just like you do her. Your girl has been in front of you this entire time,” she advises. 

“I told myself I’d let things happen naturally, but I just can’t keep it in anymore,” Joe sighs, throwing his head back to the pillow. 

“Naturally? Sweetie, you’ve been letting things happen naturally for nearly what, 9 years? You’ve been tip-toeing around each other for entirely too long. You both are grown adults now and I personally think it won’t hurt to give it a shot, especially since I think that it’ll turn out to be the best thing for both of you. She’s a wonderful girl and the effect she has on you is unlike anything I’ve ever seen, and the same goes for the effect you have on her. That’s true love,” his mom adds. “Just simply talk to her,”. 

And Joe took that advice to heart. His mom was right, he just had to talk to you. He never had trouble talking to you about anything before, you were always receptive and understanding. Talking to you about his feelings shouldn’t be so difficult, especially if there was a chance that you felt the same way. 

You got up from your bed, a little concerned since Joe hadn’t come back to the room yet. You opened your door and walked outside to him staring up at the ceiling. 

“Hey, you alright?” you asked as you leaned against the wall. 

Joe sits up straight when he hears your voice and quickly tries to recollect himself so that you don’t suspect that something is wrong. 

“Yeah, she just was asking about why I skipped dinner and if you were alright,” he said. 

“Ohh,” you nodded. If that was all they were talking about, why did Joe look so flustered? 

“Well, I hope you told her that I’m fantastic now all thanks to her son who knows how to flip someone’s mood around better than he knows how to make french toast,” you tease.

“I only burnt them once,” he scoffed as his jaw fell open.

“It was definitely a little more than that,” you said as you moved from the wall to the kitchen, grabbing him a water bottle. “We can try again tomorrow morning and see if you’ve gotten any better,” you laughed. 

“Tomorrow Morning?” Joe asked.

“Yeah. It’s getting pretty late and since you don’t have practice tomorrow, I was thinking you could stay over?” you said as you handed him the bottle. You were hoping and praying he would stay.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude,” he says as he takes the bottle from you, his thumb lightly touching your fingers which sends electricity through your body.

“Intrude on what? It’s just me,” you grinned. “The only thing is, the ‘guest bedroom’ is my storage room so we’d have to share my bed,”.

“It worked out pretty well last time,” Joe softly laughed as he got up from the couch. 

“So you’ll stay?” you perk up, trying to hold back from looking too happy.

“Come on,” he smiles, grabbing your hand and leading you to your room. Both of you were trying to hold back from saying something to each other about your feelings that you were both now certain of, and both of your faces were showing it. You were like two lovestruck teenagers. 

A few minutes later, Joe settled into your bed while you were changing into your Pajamas. His heartbeat only got faster by the second now that he was thinking of when the right moment to talk to you was. Was right now a good time or was it too sudden? You were probably tired anyway, so maybe the next time you see each other would be better. 

He watched as you came out of the bathroom in a short-sleeved Ohio State Football shirt, one of his, and shorts, looking absolutely angelic. He wondered how many of his clothes had piled up in your closet over the years. 

“Do you need anything before I turn off the lights?” You ask him while you plug in your phone.

“I’m good,” he lazily smiles as he pulls the covers up.

You nod, turn the lights off, and slide into the bed next to Joe. You weren’t nervous this time like you were a few nights ago. Maybe it was because you actually came to a conclusion about your feelings for him or maybe it was because he was in your bed and not the other way around. 

“Night, Joey,” you yawn as you look over at him.

“Night, Y/N,” he smiles as he closes his eyes. 

An hour later 

He couldn’t sleep. He tried and tried but he couldn’t fall asleep. He looked over at you, your eyes closed and soft snores coming from your mouth. His mind was still racing and it wouldn’t stop, and you being asleep right next to him wasn’t helping. Nothing about what happened tonight was helping. It was like he was on the verge of exploding because he couldn’t keep it in any longer, and he’d never ever felt like this before, and it was all because of you. 

He turned over to face you, your hair was sprawled out against the pillow, some strands on your face, and your breathing was steady. He moved his hand to move the stray stands out of your face, but as soon as he did, you started moving. He quickly moved his hand away from your face and turned back to face the ceiling, closing his eyes and pretending to be asleep. 

He felt you move around a little more before he felt weight on his arm. He opened his eyes and slowly looked over at you to see you resting your head against his bicep. 

“Y/N?” he whispered.

No response. You were definitely still asleep.

He carefully moved his arm out from underneath your head and allowed you to move into him. You turned so that you were on your stomach but still pressed against his chest. You draped your leg over his and pressed your head against his chest and his arms settled around you, holding you close. He tried to even out his breathing, which was increasing because of your movements. You were cuddling him right now, just like how he was cuddling you a few nights ago. This time, your warm body was providing him comfort and security. 

A few moments later, he had gotten a little more comfy, now feeling a wave of sleepiness come over him. He looked down at you, smiling at the fact that you were doing this naturally and completely in your sleep, like a reflex. He pressed a few soft kisses to the top of your head before looking up at the ceiling. 

You were right there. You had always been right there, he thought to himself. 

“I love you,” Joe whispered to you as he closed his eyes. 

Saturday - The Day before Joe’s Birthday 

The rest of the week had gone by pretty smoothly and you had Joe to thank for that. The morning after Joe stayed over, he helped you track down a new florist for your sister’s wedding. He pulled some strings to help you get the florist on such short notice, and naturally, it worked as nobody could say no to Joe Burrow. Then, he pulled out your laptop and helped you look through your work project. Going through it with him definitely helped you feel calmer about it since two minds were looking at it instead of 1. Even though his brain was wired to be a quarterback, he still had some knowledge about finance in his head from college which came to your advantage. He told you that if you ever felt like it was too much, to just let your Boss know, and if she ever had an issue with you, he would talk to her personally and let her know how much stress you’ve been under lately. 

He always put in so much thought when it came to you, and you could never seem to fully grasp it. He even went online and ordered you a bunch of new, very expensive, clothes to make up for the outfit that you destroyed because of your spilled coffee. He always thought of everything and hit every corner. The only thing that was now left to be sorted out was telling him how you felt about him, and you couldn’t wait to tell him. 

Today, you spent most of the day wrapping gifts for Joe as his birthday was tomorrow. The Bengals were playing Monday Night Football at home, so for once he was free on his special day. Even though he told you he didn’t want anything, you obviously didn’t listen to him. He always went above and beyond for your birthday, and you wanted to do the same for him as much as you could. 

You hit all the corners when it came to getting him birthday gifts this year. The first thing you got him was a funny Squidward sweatshirt, a character with whom Joe shared a lot of similarities. You thought it was so endearing that he still watched SpongeBob, especially now that he’s a 27-year-old millionaire, but he still found comfort in the things that made him who he was. The next thing you got him was the Lego Porche set he had been dying to get his hands on, but was extremely hard to find. You searched every Lego store in the vicinity before you found it in a rare collectibles store downtown. Joe loved Legos, another thing about him that was incredibly precious to you. That man could spend hours in a room building a Lego set when he could, and you were often there to help him. The next thing you got him was a new pair of Cartier Shades. They were a pretty penny, but he deserved to be spoiled on his birthday, and this was just the thing for him. The final thing you got him, maybe your most favorite, was a Night Sky Map from January 13th 2020, the night he won the CFP National Championship. For a man who loved space and anything related to it, this was the perfect gift. The Map showed the exact position of the stars at the time LSU had won the game at the Mercedes Benz Superdome. 

“Perfect,” you smiled as you looked at the Map. You finished wrapping the gift and placed it on the counter with the rest of them. You then pulled out your phone to text Joe and see what his plans were for tomorrow. 

You: hey there birthday boy!! what ya up to tomorrow?

Joe: hey y/n :) nothing really. prob watching some film and relaxing before the game on Monday

Your jaw dropped when he told you his plans. There was no way he was spending his birthday alone, boarded up inside of his house. 

You: joe….

Joe: yes?

You: your birthday is tomorrow 

Joe: i’m well aware lol

You: care to explain why you are spending your birthday alone? 

Joe: my parents and some of the guys were pushing me to do a dinner or something but I told them I just wanted to focus on the game and rest the day before

That was a reasonable excuse, but you were not about to let him spend his special day all alone. Especially since usually, he would have a game on his birthday. 

You: that’s fair but this is your first free birthday in a longgg time. don’t you wanna do something fun?

Joe: fun can wait until the season ends 

Hmm, this was going to be harder than you thought. He really wasn’t going to do anything fun on his birthday, was he? 

Suddenly, you had a lightbulb moment. It would be pretty lame if you told him you were going to come over for a bit to celebrate with him, so what about a surprise? You could lie to him and say you would be out of town tomorrow, but back for the MNF game, and surprise him at his house. You could bake him his favorite dessert, order his favorite food, and bring everything over to his house along with his gifts.

You: if you say soooo. but just so you know, i’ll be out of town all day but i’ll be back for the game on Monday. i have some gifts for you that i can give you after the game :)

Joe’s smile dropped as he read the text. He was hoping you would say that you were going to come over to keep him company on his birthday, which he deep down did not want to spend alone. He couldn’t show that he was unhappy that you weren’t going to see him on his birthday, so he pretended to act like it was alright. 

Joe: no biggie :) i’ll see you in the suite monday?

You: definitely. wouldn’t miss it for the world ;)

You felt bad about lying to him, knowing that he was probably sitting there thinking about how he had to spend his birthday alone. Of course, he needed to relax and focus, but nobody really wanted to spend their birthday alone. And he wasn’t going to, even if he thought he was. 

A smile crept onto your face as you thought about tomorrow. Maybe you could even finish telling him what you were going to say to him a few nights ago. 

Sunday - Joe’s Birthday 

You walked over to the oven, pulling out the fresh Pumpkin Pie you had baked for Joe earlier. You placed it onto the counter to cool as you heard your apartment doorbell ring from what was probably the food delivery person. 

You walked over to the door, greeted the delivery person, and grabbed the food; cajun from Joe’s favorite NOLA-inspired restaurant downtown. After placing the food on the counter next to the pie, you bring over the bag of gifts and set it next to everything, giving everything another check to make sure it was perfect.

“Food, drinks, pie, gifts…” you list off as you feel like you’re forgetting something. 

“Balloons!” you chirp as you speed walk into your room to grab the balloons you got him last night. After bringing the balloons over to the rest of the items you had for his little birthday surprise, you gave everything another check, and this time it was all perfect.

A few minutes later, your car was all loaded up with his birthday surprise and you were on his way to his house. You were bobbing your head along to the song playing on the aux, “You Belong With Me”. 

“If you could see that I'm the one who understands you, Been here all along, so why can't you see? You belong with me, you belong with meee,” you sing, a huge smile plastered on your face as your mind strays to the only man it could ever wander to. “He’s gonna love this,” you say as you bite your lip in anticipation. 

20 minutes later, you pull into his driveway, watching as the sun sets over the horizon. You quickly turned off your car, hopped out of your car, and grabbed the balloons from the backseat. After taking a few deep breaths to calm your excitement with the balloons in hand, you make your way over to his door, but to just your luck, someone spotted you. Of course, it was Mrs. Nelson who seemingly was coming back home after her evening walk. 

“Fuck,” you mumble. You slowly walk closer to his door, and her eyes tracking you as you try not to look at her. You see her shake her head from the corner of your eye and let out a small chuckle, prompting her to clear her throat out of rudeness. You pause at the steps to his door, plaster a fake smile onto your face, and turn to say “Hi, Mrs. Nelson,”. 

The peculiar woman doesn’t respond and just shakes her head again before turning around and walking into her house. “Damn, tough crowd,” you laugh as you walk up the steps to his door. You press his doorbell, waiting for a few moments as you begin to think about how you are going to tell him about your feelings, but before you can get too deep into those thoughts, the door swings open. 

“Y/N?” Joe says, his jaw practically on the floor. 

You leap into his arms and pull him in for a warm hug, “Happy Birthdayyyy!” you squeal as you sway him back and forth. 

“I thought you–” he begins to say before you pull out of the hug to interrupt him. 

“You believed me?” you say as you gently push his shoulder. “I would never leave you alone on your birthday goofball,”.

“I seriously thought you weren’t coming,” he says as he scratches the back of his neck

“Damn. I’m for sure lacking in the bestie department then,” you giggle.

“Please, you have fully broken through the ceiling of the bestie department and are entering dangerous territory,” he teases, echoing your words from a few days ago. 

“Oh yeah? What territory?” you ask, raising your eyebrow.

“Girlfriend territory,” he teases as he watches your face turn a little red. Your heart skips a beat when he says the word ‘girlfriend’. Is this how he felt when you said he was entering boyfriend territory a few nights ago?

“Come inside,” he says, breaking you out of your trance. “It’s cold out here,”.

“Hang on, I have all your stuff inside the car,” you say as you hand him the balloons. 

“What stuff?” he asks.

“Your birthday stuff, duhh,” you giggle as you quickly turn around to grab everything from the car. 

Joe shakes his head and laughs as he watches you scurry over to your car, and then struggle to grab everything all in one go. “You need help?” he yells.

“Nope! I got it,” you yell back.

A few minutes later 

You let out a breath as you finally make it inside with everything for his surprise, then slip off your shoes before walking over to Joe who was examining everything.

“Damn, when the hell did you do all this?” He asked.

“I’ll never spill my secrets,” you chuckle as you take everything out of the bags. His heart was soaring because of you. You really did all of this just for him, making him feel the the most special guy on the planet. 

He watches as you take out the food, his face lighting up as he reads the name of the restaurant on the boxes.

“Cajun?” He asks.

“You know it,” you wink. 

You then carefully take out the pumpkin pie from the bag, setting it next to the delicious dinner.

“And pumpkin pie?!” He says, his eyes widening.

“I know you love my pumpkin pie so naturally I had to make it for National Joe-Day,” you giggle.

“You’re the best,” he said as he grabbed your hand from across the kitchen island, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I know,” you gloat.

His eyes then navigated to the other bag on the table, the one with his gifts. He reaches over to open the bag, but you quickly swat his hand away.

“Mmm nope. No gifts until after dinner,” you say to him like he was a little child. 

“But it’s my birthday,” he pouts. 

“Food first then the fun stuff,” you say as you give him a look.

“Fine,” he says, rolling his eyes and then grinning at the smile that appeared on your face.  

An hour later 

“Mmm, that was so good,” Joe said as he downed his bottle of water. You’re both full of the delicious Cajun food, reminding you both of the taste of New Orleans. 

“Literally. We gotta go down to New Orleans soon for the real deal,” you say as you clean up your dinner plates and load them into his dishwasher. 

“I’ll book us a trip for this summer,” he smiles as he takes a seat on the couch where you join him with two plates of pie. A smile on your face when you hear him mention going down there with you. 

“Is it gift time?” Joe asks, already reaching for the bags.

“Wait!” You say as you stop his hand. “Take a bite of the pie first,”.

“Why?” He asks.

“It’s technically your birthday cake,” you shrug.

You watch as Joe just continues to stare at you, not really caring much about the formality of it all. “Please, For me?” You pout.

“Anything for you,” he states, grabbing the plates of pie and placing them in front of you. You grab your fork, breaking off a piece of the pie and raising it up to his pink lips. 

“Open up,” you smile as you try to feed him a piece. 

He opens up his mouth, allowing you to feed him a slab of the pie. “Happy Birthday to you,” you sing-song as you take the fork out of his mouth while he lets out a groan and looks very cute. 

“Mmm, Y/N. This tastes like heaven,” he says, covering his mouth so you don’t see him chewing while talking. 

“Thank you,” you giggle as you place the fork back down onto the plate and then reach for the bag of gifts, moving it closer to you. 

“Finally,” he groans as he gets comfy on the couch. 

“Okay, here is gift 1,” you say, handing him the sweatshirt that was wrapped up. 

He peels off the wrapping paper, his face going from smiley to confused. 

“Really, Y/N?” He laughed as he read the text on the sweatshirt which said ‘Are you still talking’ with a picture of Squidward looking absolutely sick of it. 

“Hey,” you shrug. “That’s quite literally you anytime you have to sit down for an interview. I know you feel like darting outta there as soon as they finish talking,” you chuckle. 

His confused face turns into a smile, “You’re right,”.

There were so many interviews or media appearances where Joe looked like he wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. He wasn’t a fan of interviews or anything that needed him to speak for an extended period of time. It was even worse if he had to sit there and listen to someone else talk for an extended period because it prevented him from leaving, so this little quote was very applicable to him. 

“Do you like it?” You say, your smile dropping a little.

“I love it,” he says as he whips his shirt off, showing off his muscular chest, and putting on the hoodie. 

“God damn,” you mumble at the sight of his very attractive body. 

“Hm?” Joe asks as he straightens out the hoodie.

“Oh, nothing. Here, this is your next gift,” you say, changing the subject and placing the Lego gift in his lap. 

He peels off the wrapping paper again, his jaw-dropping as he catches a peek at the gift. “No fucking way,”.

You bite your lip at his reaction, knowing exactly how bad he wanted this set but couldn’t find it anywhere.

“How did you find this?” He gasped.

“I have my ways,” you tease as you grab the wrapping paper and stuff it into the bag to clean up the mess as you go. 

“More importantly, how did you remember?” He asked, his heart feeling like it was ready to burst because of your thoughtfulness. 

“I always remember when it comes to you. Never forgetting a thing,” you smile.

“Oh we’re so building this later,” he says as he turns the box around to look over the visual.

“You got it, birthday boy,” you salute. 

You grab the last two gifts out of the bag and place them into his lap. He opens the Cartier’s first, already knowing what it probably was as soon as he sees a peak of the red box.

“These must’ve been so expensive,” he says as he looks at the sick shades you got him.

“Don’t worry about that,” you say as you rub his shoulder.

“You shouldn’t have spent so much, Y/N. All of this was more than enough for me,” he said, his soft eyes meeting yours.

“You go above and beyond for me, every single year. This is nothing compared to what you do for me,” you say, giving his shoulder a squeeze. 

“Thank you, for everything,” he says, grabbing your hand and gently rubbing your skin. He had to fight the urge to press his lip against yours and show you how thankful he was for you, and it was killing him. 

“Ah ah ah, I think we have one more gift to go and it’s my personal fav,” you say as you move the glasses to the table. 

“What could possibly top all of that?” He said as he started to open up his final gift. You stayed quiet, carefully reading his facial expression to see his reaction to the gift. He opened up the gift, his eyes widening and his jaw slightly falling.

“Oh my god,” he said as he observed the Sky Map. His heart skipped a beat as he started to take in the amount of thought you had put into his birthday. You really hit every single point and nobody had ever done this much just for him. You were extraordinary and you were magic. You belonged with him, and this sealed the deal. You were the most thoughtful, loving, and extraordinary girl he had ever met, and he wanted you to be his. 

“Oh my god,” he said again, this time looking over at you. “This is—,”.

“January 13th, 2020 at the Superdome,” you grinned.

“Holy shit. Are these the stars that night?” He asked as he examined the map. 

“Mhm. The stars at the exact time you won the Championship,” you replied.

“Y/N, this is the best gift I think I’ve ever gotten,” he says as he stares at the map a little longer.

“I know how much you love Space and Stars, and this night was very important to you and your Career,” you said.

“I love it. I love all of it,” he grinned as he put the map on the table, then turned to you and pulled you into his arms for a hug. He wanted to add ‘I love you’ to that sentence as well, but that would be too random. If he was going to tell you, it had to be more special than that. 

You melt into his chest as he squeezes your body, “I’m so glad you like it,” you mumble against him. He held you against him for a few moments, not letting you move one bit, and it was making the pit of nervousness in your stomach grow again. You wanted to tell him how much you loved him and show him how much you did as well, but you didn’t know if you should tell him now or wait for another moment when you were a little more relaxed. 

“You wanna go for a walk?” He asked as he pulled away from the hug. Maybe he could tell you then, he thought to himself. 

“Okay,” you smiled, maybe you could tell him then.

He got up from the couch, putting out his hand for you to grab onto. He helped you off the couch and you both made your way outside. The sun had set and now the sky was dark, the only light being the streetlights and the moon. 

“Thank you for today,” Joe says, breaking the silence as you both walk down the street together. “You really know how to make a guy feel special,”. 

“Anything for you,” you say, echoing his sweet words from earlier. 

“No girl has ever done this much for my birthday,” he laughs.

You looked over at him, seeing that he was being serious, which came to your surprise. “Not even Stella?”. 

“Nope. I think last year all she got me was some clothes, most of which were not my style, and a framed photo of us that I already had,” he says. 

“No way,” you giggled.

“I don’t care much for gifts, you know that, but like come on,” he said as he shook his head.

“Did she at least get you a cake?” You asked.

“Nope, she made me apple pie instead,” he said looking disgusted. 

“What?” You shriek. “You don’t even like apple pie,”.

“That’s what I’m saying. Apple pie was her favorite. And you know what’s even better?” He said.

“What?”. 

“She wasn’t even there for like half the day. She was too busy helping her friend with her little sister's birthday party,” Joe said, rolling his eyes and running his fingers through his hair.

“There is no way,” you said, your jaw falling open as you felt sorry for him since his birthday last year sounded horrible. 

“Yeah, so I really mean it when I say you’re the best person ever and this was the best surprise birthday shin-dig ever,” he said, flashing his million-dollar smile at you. 

“Well, if it helps, I didn’t really like her anyway and I’m pretty sure she hated me too,” you joked.

Joe looked over at you, staying silent and not saying anything to debunk your theory. 

“Oh my god? She did hate me, didn't she?”. 

“She always thought we had something going on. She literally would grill me every single time after we hung out or something, accusing me of cheating on her with you,” he said.

“No fucking way,” you laughed. 

“She used to say that even best friends didn’t spend that much time together and always thought we were hooking up or something. And then I did everything I could to make it up to her, but that would only last temporarily before she found another thing to get mad over,”. 

“She must be delusional,” you said, rubbing your hands together as you were starting to feel the December cold. 

“Wait, why didn’t you like her?” He asked. 

“Her vibe was off. She also didn’t really seem like your type in my opinion. She was too flashy and hyper and you’re-–”. 

“Lowkey and Calm?” He interrupts.

“Exactly,” you chuckle. 

“Yeah, she really wasn’t the one,” he sighed. “At one point she literally told me to pick between you and her,”.

Your heart sank at the words that came out of his mouth. “What?” You asked, feeling a lump in your throat. 

“That’s why we broke up,” he admitted. “I chose you,”. 

He chose you. He chose you over someone that could have been his forever. 

“Joe, I’m so sorry,” you said, looking down at your feet as you both kept walking around his neighborhood.

“For what?” He laughed.

“For making her make you pick,”. “If it wasn’t for me, maybe things would’ve been different for you guys,” you say, feeling a little guilty at indirectly ruining his relationship. 

“That’s not your fault, Y/N. She wasn’t the one anyway, and everything about her showed that. That was just the final nail in the coffin,”.

“I just wish you could’ve told me in the moment,” you said.

“Well, I am now,” he shrugged. “And I know you don’t really like talking relationships with me anyways,”. 

You didn’t like to talk to him about his relationships because all these years you wanted to be the one in a relationship with him, and the mention of other girls always made you bitter. 

“That’s fair,” you giggled. “Anyway, enough with the depressing topics. It’s your birthday, no need to dwell on past heartbreaks,”.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he salutes.

“Are you excited for the game tomorrow?”. 

“Very. I feel really good about where we’re at right now and my body feels good too,”.

“That’s great,” you beam. “I’ll never get tired of the feeling of game day,”.

“I hope not,” he laughed. “You’ve been a part of basically every game day for the last four years. If you got sick of it, I think I’d actually lose it. I need you up there at all times to be fully locked in,”. 

You smiled at his silly thoughts. He didn't need you to be the already exceptional and phenomenal quarterback he was, but that was sweet of him to say.

“God, I wish we could do this for the rest of our lives,” you giggled. “Everything is so much easier when it’s just us without all the chaos that is our life”. 

Joe’s heart fluttered at the thought. What if you could do this forever? His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest; this was it, this was his chance to tell you how he felt. Those feelings he’s had inside of him for years were finally about to come out.

“So then let’s do it?” He blurted out, stopping and looking over at you. The streetlight casting a direct glow on the both of you on the dark street. 

“What?” You said, stopping and sporting a confused look on your face.

“Do this with me. For the rest of our lives,” he said. 

Was he being serious, you thought to yourself. 

“Joe—,”.

“You’ve been with me through everything for the past 9 years. The one thing in my life that’s stayed consistent for as long as I can remember. The most special, kind-hearted, loving, and beautiful girl I’ve ever known. When I’m with you, I feel like I’m flying. You make me forget about all the background noise and make me feel like just a guy. I want to feel that feeling for the rest of my life. I’ve been trying to figure out how and when to tell you,”. 

“Joe, I—,”. 

“No, let me finish,” he interrupts as he holds your hand. “I have to say it because I’ve been holding this in for way too long. Y/N, I’ve thought about you every single day for 9 years. Back at Ohio State, I knew I liked you from the moment I saw you. I knew you’d be a special part of my life and when I went to LSU and you stayed by my side, that was solidified. You’re the only girl that makes me feel fireworks. You’re the only girl that I think about and you’re the only girl I want to think about. No girl has ever come close to making me feel the way you do. My mind has been spiraling for the past few weeks because of you, Y/N. You’re the only girl I’ve ever truly loved,”.

Loved. He said he loved you. He loved you this whole time, and you were too blind to see it. This entire time you thought he didn’t feel the same way about you, but he did. He has felt the same way about you for just as long as you did. You felt like you were about to pass out, your flushed face & your silence were saying everything. 

“Y/N.. say something. Please. I hope I didn’t just fuck everything up, but I had to tell you. I couldn’t keep it in anymore,” he said, squeezing your hand. 

“Joe..” you say, breaking your silence and meeting his eyes, which were filled with love. “What are we?”.

“What do you mean?” he laughed. “I’ve been wrapped around your finger this whole time?”.

Your solemn face breaks into a smile as you realize what he is saying. “You– You really love me?”. 

“I really, really, love you,” he grins.

“Guess what?” you ask him.

“..What?” he asks, letting go of your hand and feeling nervous all of a sudden.

“I love you too,” you blush, even harder than you were before. 

“Really?” he asks, trying really hard not to freak out.

“Really. I’ve loved you since we were just two college kids trying to get through that awkward stage of life together. I never said anything back then because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, so I buried those feelings and moved on. Or so I thought. But as we got older and time went by, I realized those feelings didn’t go anywhere, and more importantly, you didn’t go anywhere. No other guy has ever had an effect on me like you do. Those fireworks your mom talked about, I only feel them with you,”. 

“Kiss me,” Joe blurted out, turning red at the fact that he just said that.

“You aren’t serious–” you reply.

“I so am,” he says as he grabs your waist and pulls you into him, crashing his soft lips against yours. 

Electricity. Kissing each other felt like pure electricity. It felt like you were coming home after a long day or getting a sip of cold water on a hot summer afternoon. Comforting & Refreshing.

His lips molded against yours perfectly as you moved your arms around his neck to pull him in closer. His hands slid up and down your waist, relishing every single part of your body as you moved one of your hands into his hair, pulling at the soft strands. The warmth of both your bodies protects you from the frigid and dark night around you. He whimpers into the kiss because of you pulling on his hair, causing you to break away. You press open-mouth kisses around his jaw, then press kisses all around his face, causing him to laugh.

“I can’t even begin to tell you how long I’ve been waiting for this,” you say, pressing your forehead against his.

“We have all the time in the world for you to tell me, and show me,” he winks.

“Already trying to get in my pants, Burrow?” You flirt.

“Uhh yeah," he says straight up. "Have you seen yourself? Absolutely Sexy and Breathtaking,".

"Besides, I think we can skip the ‘getting to know each other phase’ since we’ve been in that for a longgg time,” he says before he presses another kiss to your lips. 

“Didn’t you say that a few years ago after you won the AFC championship and called me Mrs. Champ?” you say, recalling that moment from a few years ago, the same moment from the photo Joe saw on your side table in your apartment.

“You really don’t forget anything do you?” He smiles.

“Like I said, when it comes to you, I never forget anything,” you smile, then press another kiss to his lips. 

“I love you,” he says, staring deeply into your eyes, in which he finally found what he had been looking for all these years, love. 

“I love you so much, Joe,” you grin. 

An hour later 

After your eventful walk, you make it back to his house, immediately following him into the kitchen for some hot chocolate he said he was going to make to fight off the cold. 

“Ah ah ah, you go sit down. I got this,” he says as he turns you around and pushes you towards the couch. The smile on your face gets bigger as you hop over to the comfy couch. 

A little later, he brings over two mugs of Hot Chocolate along with the rest of the Pie for you both to dig into. He hands you your mug, then plops down onto the couch next to you, opening his arms for you to curl up next to him. You rest your cheek against his chest as he settles his arm around your shoulder. 

“This feels right,” he says as he takes a sip of the chocolatey beverage. 

“So right,” you say, wiping the milky drink off your lips. “Everyone’s gonna lose it when we tell them. But I mean, most of them already saw it coming from a mile away”.

“Wait, so does this mean you’re my girlfriend?” he asks, looking down at you.

“Does this answer your question?” you mumble as you press a kiss to his chocolatey lips.

“Oh yes, yes it does, girlfriend,” he smirks. 

“Good, boyfriend,” you giggle. “I can’t even imagine what the fans are gonna say once they figure it out,”.

“I mean, most of them thought you were my girlfriend anyway,” he shrugged. 

“I can’t believe even they could see it before we saw it,” you said, referring to the love between you both. 

“We must be really oblivious,” he laughs as he takes another sip of his drink.

“Must have been really oblivious,” you correct. “Oblivious no longer,”. 

“Right, oblivious no longer,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you for making this the best birthday of my life,”.

“You’re welcome,” you say, meeting his eyes again. “But get used to it. Next year will be even better, and the year after even more better,”. 

“Can’t wait,” he sighs as he rubs your shoulder, his brain now filled with thoughts of the future. Everything was perfect and brighter now that he had the comfort of knowing you were going to be by his side forever. Was it a little early to think about that? Sure. But he knew that you were the one. 

Your brain was also much more relaxed and free now that you had the man of your dreams with you, hopefully forever. Those anxiety-filled thoughts had left your mind and were replaced with thoughts of love and hope. He wasn’t going anywhere, and you were all his. 

You finish drinking your Hot Chocolate, and Joe does the same, so you take both of your mugs and place them on the table. Then, you move back to him, this time settling in his lap. He wraps his hands around your hips and presses his lips against yours again. 

“I’ll never get tired of that,” you mumble against his lips, going back to the kiss.

“We’ve got 9 years of kisses to make up for so you better not,” he says as he moves your hair out of your face. 

“I can’t believe this is real life,” you confess as you stuff your head into his neck, feeling his hand slide up and down your back. 

“Well, you better believe it because this was meant to be. You belong with me,” he whispers into your ear. 

You pull your face out of his neck, meeting his gentle eyes that are still filled with love, and passion exclusively reserved for you. “And you belong with me,” you say before kissing him again. 

–The End–

part 3