#he had a missing right leg instead of a missing left

[ssahotchnerr]

ugh imagine reader accidentally breaking or ruining something important to Hotch and panicking because they feel so guilty and think he’s going to be so mad when he gets home and he’s just such an angel and Hotch is more upset that reader is so upset than that something broke

in pieces

how sweet 🥺🥺 cw; fem!reader, established relationship, comfort and fluff <333 wc; 1.1k

"I'll see you soon."

Your voice wavered on the other end of the phone, Aaron didn't miss the nervous tone.

It was a huge contrast from the usual excitement, knowing you wouldn't be separated for much longer. The team had just landed; a case had taken them to Delaware for a few days, and he always called before coming home. This served a double purpose: to not freak you out at the sound of someone unknown entering the apartment, especially in the dark of night. And to let you know he was simply, finally, 30 minutes away.

But before he could inquire if you were alright, you disconnected the call, leaving Aaron with nothing but the sound of a few fading beeps.

He didn't speed on the way home, per se, but he succeeded in shortening the drive by a few minutes. Luckily, he was experienced enough with slightly riskier driving.

And once he entered the apartment, he hadn't even had the chance to remove his jacket. One foot inside the door and you had enveloped him fully.

Your arms squeezed his middle tightly, yet there was the lightest bit of hesitancy in your embrace. As if you feared he wouldn't reciprocate, or it wouldn't be long-lasting.

"Hey sweetheart, I missed you." Aaron spoke into your hair, turning to kiss the side of your head. The moment your body met his, it was as if the world stilled - like someone had gently flipped an off-switch for everything else. No longer did he have to be stoic professional, just Aaron. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry," you mumbled into his shirt.

He pulled back to meet your gaze, his hands remaining on your waist. A thumb grazed your hip comfortably, "What're you sorry for?"

He was certain that no matter what it was, it wasn't as bad as you thought.

"Your mug slipped out of my hand as I was taking it out of the dishwasher." You admitted, your eyes dimmed by the weight of your guilt.

Aaron blanched slightly, causing your heart to drop further. "The one Jack painted?"

Messily painted, but that was part of its charm. A project during an art summer camp Jack attended.

You nodded sadly, biting down on your lip.

It had been his favorite mug, a staple since - and before - you met him. The one that made you think back to the sleepovers early in your relationship; sitting on the counter in his kitchen in your (his) pjs, chatting and laughing softly together as he poured each of you a morning helping. He would then find himself standing in between your legs, kissing you and leaving you breathless with the bitter taste of coffee in his breath.

It hadn't taken you long to fall in love with him.

Aaron took a step back, keeping his hands on you as he looked you up and down, scanning for anything out of place.

"You didn't hurt yourself, did you?" He released you only to grab your right hand, turning it, and then repeated the motion with your left. Absent were any cuts or gashes, your skin as soft and familiar as always.

"No, Aaron, I broke it. It shattered everywhere." Your admittance ended with a small huff, clearly upset with yourself. The visual of it broken into multiple fragments across the kitchen floor made you sick to your stomach. You couldn't even salvage the pieces, ruined beyond belief.

The whole thing could've been avoided too, that was the worst part. You shouldn't have tried to juggle multiple mugs at once. You should've gripped onto it better. You should've just gone to bed instead of being proactive, leaving emptying the dishwasher until tomorrow morning.

You'd tried to catch it too - he knew that without having to ask. Hence, why he was so worried you'd injured yourself in the process.

"But you're okay?" He clarified, his eyebrows furrowing gently into a line.

"I'm fine," you insisted sharply, slightly annoyed he kept changing the subject, but you weren't focusing on what he was saying. His concern for you outweighing the casualty. Tears began to pool at your waterline, blurring him. "But it's broken. And I'm so sorry."

"Hey," he shushed you gently, attempting to soothe you. "Don't worry about it."

An exasperated tilt of your head, "but..."

"It was an accident, sweetheart." Aaron shook his head dismissively - at the situation, not you. "A mug is replaceable. Being chronic caffeine drinkers, we own plenty of them. Your fingers, however, are not. I care much more about those."

Along with his seriousness, he was still trying to coax a smile from you, and it was working. But the light shift of your face caused a singular tear to roll down your cheek. He wiped it away with the pad of his thumb before it got too far.

"I was worried you'd be mad." You sniffled, throwing your arms around his neck. "You use it practically every morning. I know how much it meant to you."

"I feel worse that you had to fret over the whole thing." A sympathetic chuckle shook through him, although his eyes remained somber. Aaron's expression was so understanding, you couldn't help but instantly feel relieved, the regret that had been haunting you fading away. "When did this happen?"

Your bottom lip protruded. "The night after you left."

"Honey," his words exited him in a soft breath. "You worried about this for almost a week?"

You nodded, and Aaron felt horrible he hadn't picked up on your unease through your short calls and texts. He was also saddened at the fact you hesitated to bring it up, wary of his reaction.

"You're sweet." He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss on your pout. "I'm not mad. Far from it."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"You're not just saying that?"

"No sweetheart," an amused chuckle shook through his chest, his hand roaming your back. "It's okay. Genuinely."

You sighed, feeling eased. Aaron threw an arm around your shoulder, tucking you into his side and kissing your temple.

"I missed you too." You said gently as your palm found his torso, your fingertips toying with one of his shirt buttons. A trace of light humor was present in your tone, "And I may have already taken Jack somewhere for a replacement. Not to spoil the surprise, but I wanted to make it up to you as quickly as I could."

"See, how could I ever be mad at you. I'm looking forward to having a new favorite." He shifted so he was facing you, pressing his lips against yours, soon smiling into the kiss. A soft giggle exited you. "C'mon, let's go to bed."

[coralbae]

Locking the door behind you as you step into yours and Satoru's shared home, you chuck your purse onto the couch before interlocking your fingers and stretching your arms above your head. After a gruelling day to wrap up a week that never seemed like it would end, the only thing on your mind right now was steaming hot shower.

Sensing your return, Satoru practically bounded over to where you stood, tackling you in a hug and greeting you with a sweet kiss which you gladly returned.

Smiling at him, you greet your overenthusiatic boyfriend with a smile, 'Hi Toru, I missed you so much and I thank the gods that we both have the whole weekend off, but what I really need before we do anything else is a nice, long shower,' you coo as you let go of his face and untangle yourself from him. And of course, Satoru being Satoru, he grins.

'So, can I join you?' he asks, eyes wide. But you were determined to have some me time in the shower without the distraction of wandering hands. 'I meant alone.'

Pout

'But I promise that we can cuddle for as long as you want once I'm done. I'm just so exhausted from this past week and I've been craving this all day, is that okay?'

Like the drama queen that he is, he huffs and pouts but nods anyway. 'I'll see you later,' he tells you as he saunters off and you catch the tiniest hint of a smirk on his face.

That man is always up to something.

Once you gather your silk pyjamas (which of course matches his) from your bedroom, you open the door to the ensuite bathroom just to see that Satoru had dragged an armchair in front of the shower.

'Seriously?' you call out, loud enough for him to hear you from wherever he was in the house as you begin to undress. Just as you're only left in your underwear, a muffled voice resounds from the doorway behind you, 'What? You didn't say I couldn't watch!'.

Rolling your eyes and against your better judgement, you fold and allow him to stay. 'Is the popcorn and ramune necessary?' you question, to which he gives you a weak 'mhm' as he plops himself into the chair, all giddy, crossing his legs with the bowl of popcorn in his lap as if he were about to watch his favourite movie.

Deciding to leave him be, you discard the rest of your clothing in the laundry hamper and slip into the shower, turning it on and practically moaning when the hot water washes over your skin.

About five minutes into your shower, one that you never want to get out of, you check on your boyfriend and realise that his food and drink are all gone, leaving him watching you with a dopey smile while leaned back in his chair with a growing tent in his pants. 'Can you wipe away the condensation? It's getting a bit hard to see.' In response, you say nothing, instead grabbing the showerhead and spraying the glass separating the two of you, clearing the fog while also making him flinch in his seat before he settles down and you return the showerhead to its holder.

After a couple more minutes of being watched intensely, you sigh and open the door to the shower, body soapy and water dripping from your hair onto the cool tiles as you stick your head out. He blinks back at you, 'Yes?'

'Are you coming in or not?'.

[joshujihan23]

The Rebellion of the Moles (and your leg)

☆ pairing: ot13!seventeen x 14th member!reader

☆ genre: fluff, slice of life, Going Seventeen filming day! a little angst from some individuals..

☆ synopsis: with another plot for Going Seventeen, you were having the time of your life, until you had an unexpected injury..

☆ word count: 1.7k+

☆ warnings: mentions of blood, injuries

☆ author’s note: i was so worried if anyone got injured during these episodes, and that triggered an idea..

————————————————————————

another day, another filming day for Going Seventeen. you were particularly excited about this episode, one that reminded you of Mousebusters. however, instead of chasing mouses, the team was chasing moles.

and in this episode, you were a mole, along with the8, dokyeom, dino, coups, jun, vernon and hoshi. from the moment you knew about the groupings, you could practically smell victory, just because of how skilful (and unexpected) this team is.

it was after the second round, where the base filled with items from the human house. from orange cones, boxes, to even oil tins, you were panting from having to carry all the heavy items.

the team were gathered around in a circle, while you played with one of the boxes.

“doors 3 and 4 have tarps. we should peek through to see whether the humans placed traps.” vernon suggested, pointing at the map on hand.

“peek underneath the tarps, if there are traps, head to the door next to it.” coups added.

��dino-yah, tell us what you think.” the8 said.

“your intuition is bad when it comes to this, so tell us.” you added, stifling a laughter.

a confused expression appeared on dino’s face. he looked down while scoffing, pointing at you lightly and said “you guys are so mean.”

“we will trust the opposite.”

“i think there’s nothing happening now.” dino commented.

“you think there’s nothing? there’s definitely something going on then.” vernon exclaimed.

with that, the siren rang, announcing the beginning of the third round.

all of you ran towards each side, 4 on the left and 3 on the right. you followed the8, shuffling behind him as he checked underneath the tarps.

he looked up in surprise, nodding his head, signalling that there were traps.

you clapped, heading towards door 2 with the rest of the members.

barging open the door, mingyu greeted you with a bonk on your head, earning a laugh from you. all of you began running around the house, searching and taking everything that was in front of you.

you were having the time of your life, running around the room, taking box after box and bringing them to the base, getting bonked continuously by the human team (who in fact, bonked you lighter than everyone else), you were laughing almost the entire time.

while collecting some items and placing them into a box, you hear a voice beside you.

“dudeo..~”

turning around in surprise, you see hoshi, the captured mole, fake wailing. your heart clenched with sympathy, knowing he activated one of the traps by accident. you acted along with him, hugging him. “i missed you~” you said, wailing along with him.

he guided you to the boxes, pointing at them and speaking in a mole-like language, which you could understand for some reason.

you picked up the boxes in your hand, almost falling from how heavy they were. noticing this, joshua held you, preventing you from falling backwards.

“be careful, it’s heavy. ask someone to help you.” he said, stabling your figure.

“YAH Y/N! DON’T HANG OUT WITH THE HUMANS NOW.” jun shouted, running out of the door.

“one at a time, y/n, be careful.” hoshi whispered, his hand floating behind your back.

you lifted the boxes again, your hands trembling slightly from the weight. you walked briskly towards the door, the boxes blocking your forward vision as you moved.

little did you know, before you were there, there were a few boxes that tumbled from the side, causing small items to fall out of it.

and with the boxes blocking your view, you didn’t notice it.

you stepped on something, and before you knew it, you found yourself falling forward. you screamed, trying to stable yourself, but your other foot just landed on another box, causing you to fall.

your right foot fell awkwardly, causing you to yelp in pain, your body flat against the boxes.

hearing your scream, the members stopped moving. there was a moment of silence, before they reacted.

“Y/N, ARE YOU OKAY??” dokyeom shouted, running towards you after dropping everything.

“YAH, ARE YOU ALRIGHT?” mingyu followed, rushing next to you.

woozi picked you up, letting you sit on the ground, while you winced in pain. you clenched on your bodysuit, your leg throbbing with pain.

you felt someone pat your back, leaning forward, to meet dino’s worried eyes, examining your injuries and expression.

“i told you to be careful, right?” joshua said, the worry apparent in his tone.

“shit you’re bleeding! did someone call the staff?” dokyeom commented, looking around.

“cut the cameras!” vernon shouted, showing an X to the camera.

jun lifted you from the ground, one arm on your back and another at your legs, carrying you to a chair nearby. he sat you down gently, making sure not to cause more pain.

coups came forward, taking off your shoe to check on any injuries. he touched your right foot, feeling the swell intensify, and your wince getting louder.

“it’s a sprain, it’s swelling a lot. did someone go get ice??” coups shouted, caressing your foot gently.

seungkwan and hoshi came running over, with seungkwan carrying a first aid kit, while hoshi carried an ice pack.

hoshi passed the ice pack to the leader, before he placed it on your foot, making you shudder from the sudden chill.

seungkwan knelt down, in that ridiculous outfit of his, curling your pants up to look for any injuries. prior to this, he noticed some stains at your knees, ones that weren’t there before.

like he expected, there was a wound on your knee, with blood flowing out at a steady pace. he immediately grabbed a water bottle nearby, washing the wound, making you yelp in pain again.

joshua patted your back, trying to reassure you, while dino stood next to you, trying to comfort you as much as he could.

the other members surround you, while the8, mingyu, and woozi were explaining what happened to the staff.

just then, someone came over, whom you recognised to be one of the medics, present if there were any injuries that would happen during the shoot. the members moved aside, giving space to the medic, as he treated your wounds and sprain.

he did it with such gentleness and care, but you couldn’t help but whimper softly at the pain, causing your hand to tighten around dino’s.

the medic bandaged your injuries quickly, wiping away any stains or blood.

“i suggest not doing any physical activities for the time being, including dancing. please be careful when filming next time.” the medic spoke, packing up the first aid kit.

you nodded, your gaze fixed at your bandaged foot, which was still throbbing in pain.

when the medic left, you looked down at your feet, feeling the guilt of everything wash over you.

“i’m sorry for ruining the shoot..” you mumbled, your hand clenching dino’s slightly.

you could feel the members either shaking their heads, or having a frown on their faces. after knowing them almost your entire life, you could practically tell how they were feeling just by their presence. and you could tell they were worried sick.

“don’t be sorry. this was bound to happen anyway.” coups replied, his hand placed on your shoulder protectively.

“we should’ve cleared the place up if anything tumbled.” the8 crossed his arms, observing the mess of the room.

joshua knelt down, so that he could look into your eyes and talk to you.

“you know oppa-deul aren’t mad at you for stopping the shoot, right? your well-being comes first. if our maknae was injured how can we film in peace?” joshua reassured, his hand rubbing against your thigh affectionately.

seungkwan sighed, his head facing downwards.

“god, how am i supposed to explain this to jeonghan hyung. that man cares for this kid like she’s his treasure..” he muttered, the pout apparent on his lips.

“same goes for me.. wonwoo hyung asks about her every single day.” mingyu added, kicking his feet on the ground.

you nodded in agreement, sighing gently.

“don’t worry about them, take care of yourself first. your recovery matters more.” woozi spoke, a tinge of softness in his voice.

“they’re definitely trying to lighten up the mood, see how pouty that guy is being?” dino added, pointing at seungkwan, who was standing at the corner.

“yeah because there isn’t any attention on him.” hoshi mocked, which caused seungkwan to turn around, making everyone burst into laughter.

the shoot has came to an end because of this.

despite the swelling and the pain of the injuries, with them the pain doesn’t seem all that bad.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“she WHAT??” jeonghan exclaimed through the phone.

“and you’re telling me about this now? why didn’t you tell me before??” wonwoo added, the worry in his voice growing.

all of you were in the dance studio, munching on some dinner after the rest of the members finished their dance practice. of course, you sat the side, cheering them on.

the practice almost ended when jeonghan texted you, asking about what you were up to.

when you sent him a photo of you sitting out, that erupted question after question from him. and when you told him you injured yourself during the filming of Going Seventeen today, he called you immediately.

and a few minutes later, wonwoo joined the call as well.

when the food arrived, the members tried to explain to the duo, but that didn’t seem to work.

while chewing on the food, you just looked at the screen, rubbing the back of your head. you chuckled nervously, trying to think of any plausible solution to ease their worry.

“yah ddadu! you promised me to take care of her!” jeonghan shouted through the phone, pointing at coups, who was peeking at the phone, with his chopsticks.

“oppas, don’t worry, it’s nothing big. it’s just a sprain!” you explained.

“a sprain is still a sprain, y/n-ah, you could’ve possibly gotten injured way more seriously!” wonwoo rebutted, a disapproving frown on his face.

“but i didn’t get seriously injured! the oppas took good care of me.” you replied, glancing around at the members.

with that, dino scooped a bite of rice with meat on your spoon, feeding it to you.

you chewed on the food, speaking, “see! taking care of me.”

they sighed unanimously, shaking their heads.

“fine, but i’m coming over to your place later to see it for myself.” jeonghan said.

“count me in.” wonwoo added.

you chuckled, shaking your head.

“the both of you are ridiculous.”

[vivwritesfics]

Slow Down, You're Gonna Crash

Chapter Three

With her seat at VCARB gone, she's left with nothing to do but steal her friend's car and tour the US coast. Where she meets a group of Navy pilots. One of them just might make everything better.

Bradley Bradshaw x Verstappen!Reader

Warnings: age gap relationship

Chapter One Chapter Two

She had woken up in a good mood. For the first time since she had lost her job, since she had been bought out of her contract, she woke up happy. 

Maybe it was because she had been fucked so damn good the night before. Maybe it was before this six foot something Adonis still had his strong arms wrapped around her, breath fanning against the back of her neck as he squeezed her against his chest. 

The night before might have been the best sex of her life. It was something she knew she would never forget. No matter who else she ended up sleeping with after this, she would always be picturing Bradley Bradshaw, picturing the way he squeezed his eyes shut when he came, his strong arms only temporarily releasing her hold on her. 

When she woke up, she tried to crawl out of his hold. But Bradley, this older stranger that doubled as some kind of expertly sculpted sex God, tightened his hold on her. Holy fuck, never before had a one night stand hold her so tight. Never before had a one night stand not want her to slip out the moment she woke up. Some didn’t even want her spending the night. 

(That’s what you get when you fool around with boys instead of men). 

His moustached lips pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. “Good morning,” he said in a gorgeously raspy voice. He tightened his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. 

“Your bed is definitely nicer than the bed in the motel I’ve been staying in,” he whispered, playing with his hands as he kept them wrapped around her middle. 

Bradley let out a hum, no doubt wearing a grin. “I’ll make a better breakfast than the motel, too,” he promised and released her from his hold. 

“Breakfast?” She couldn’t stop the way her voice squeaked at that. She had never been asked to stay for breakfast after spending the night at a man's house before. It was just a reminder that Bradley was a real man, a man who knew how to treat a lady right. 

He released her, and she hated the way she missed his strong arms wrapped around her. He stood up, grabbed his underwear from the floor, and pulled them up his strong legs. Holy shit, there was no way this man was human. He was just too perfect. 

Sitting up, she stretched her limbs, released a yawn and let the blanket fall away from her body. Bradley watched. He didn’t want to be creepy, didn’t want to stare, but he couldn’t help it. He had seen her body last night, watched the way she moved as she rode his dick during their second round. But, even after all of that, he still couldn’t get enough.

And it wasn’t like this was anything other than a one night stand, right? He would never see her again after this, no matter how much he wanted to, right? So, there really was no harm in him staring. And, by the way she caught his eye, Bradley could only assume that she didn’t mind. 

She looked to her left, at the nightstand. “You put my phone on charge?” She asked as she picked her phone up from the nightstand. It hadn’t had full battery in weeks and, now that it did, it was only a matter of time before it started ringing again. 

Bradley grabbed her some clothes, a shirt and a pair of shorts, and went to go and make breakfast while she got changed. Once she was dressed (in a naval academy shirt that smelled so much like him, she could have drowned in it and died happy), she grabbed her phone. 

The screen flashed, a picture of her nephews appearing on the screen. Too many missed calls to count appeared on her phone. Almost all of them were from her brother, a couple from her sister and a few from her father. Some calls from her friends, from her manager and trainer, too. But at least ninety percent of them were from her older brother. 

As she held the phone in her hands, it began to ring. His face popped up on the screen. Since she’d fled to the USA for her mini getaway, she had been ignoring her brother’s calls. But now, after the good mood Bradley had put her in, she was more inclined to pick up. 

“Holy shit,” he answered after she swiped her finger across the screen and held the phone up to her ear. Except, he didn’t say it in English. He said it in Dutch, but this writer does not speak Dutch. “I’ve been calling for weeks! Where the fuck are you?” 

“Calm down,” she replied quickly, her head falling into her hand. That good mood of hers was quickly disappearing, instead being replaced by an oncoming headache. “It doesn’t matter where I am. I just wanted to let you know that I’m not dead.”

Max let out a scoff. “I know you’re in the States.”

A scowl immediately crossed her face. “Fucking Daniel,” she spat, fists clenching. Daniel, the man that had taken her job and, in return, let her hide out at his place in Los Angeles. The man whose car she had technically stolen and taken on a road trip across the United States. The man who ratted her out to her brother and no doubt her father, too. 

“He’s worried about you,” Max replied. “Everybody on the grid is. They say you haven’t spoken to any of them since the contract announcement. Not Logan or Oscar or Valkyrie.”

She laid back on the bed, the scent of Bradley surrounding her. It was so incredibly comfortable and served to calm her down just a little bit. “So what if I haven’t? I haven’t spoken to you, or dad or any of our siblings,” she said, unwilling to list off the names of the football team of kids their father was trying to create.

“Have you at least spoken to your mother?” Max asked, his voice surprisingly patient. It was a side of Max that the rest of the world didn’t get to see. A Max captured in the rare pictures of him with Luka and Lio, moments of him and his girlfriends daughter (his daughter in every sense of the word). In this moment, he wasn’t Max the F1 driver, he was Max the big brother. 

The laugh that left her lips was a bitter one. “No, Max. I haven’t.” She spat the words out. “Can I go now? This guy is making me breakfast.”

“Guy? What guy?”

“It’s not any of your business, Max.”

He let out another scoff. “Fine. Whatever. Have fun. Be safe. Don’t get pregnant and don’t get any diseases.”

“You’re an asshole.”

The call was ended after that. She might have put it down on Max, he might have ended the call on her. It was hard to tell. Her head hit the pillow and she took a moment to stare up at the ceiling. She’d woken up from a night of incredible rest and she was already exhausted. Conversations with Max always took it out of her. 

Leaving her phone on the bed, she got up and walked out of the bedroom. She headed down the stairs, following the smell of food cooking and the sound of sizzling sausages until she reached the kitchen. 

It was a sight like no other, seeing Bradley shirtless at the stove as he buttered toast and cooked sausages and eggs. It was the first thing she was going to eat this whole trip that her trainer wouldn’t kill her over (even if it still was incredibly unhealthy). 

“Have you got any other plans while you’re here?” He asked as he placed a plate on the kitchen table in front of her. 

She shrugged her shoulders as she began eating. “I don’t really do plans,” she mumbled between bites of toast. “I just…” She shrugged her shoulders. “... Go where the wind takes me.”

Bradley sat opposite her. Even sitting down, he dwarfed her. “Is there any chance that you might wanna stick around in San Diego?” He asked as sipped his coffee. 

A laugh bubbled up from her throat. “You know, most hook ups don’t want somebody to stick around after they’ve fucked,” she said and finished her breakfast. (Bradley couldn’t help but notice just how much food she had left on her plate when she pushed it away, but he didn’t comment on it). 

He wiped the coffee away from his moustache. “Hooking up is a young man's game,” he mumbled, moving his coffee around in its mug. “Well, if you decide to stay for a while, you know where to find me.”

She looked up at him through her lashes and blinked slowly, in a sultry manner. Bradley couldn’t take his eyes off of her, his shorts becoming significantly tighter. “And, if I can’t find you?” She asked, chin resting in a palm. 

Bradley grabbed his phone from the counter top. She couldn’t help but watch as he put in his passcode (One, two, three, four. If that didn’t show his age, she wasn’t sure what did). He passed it to her, letting her put in her phone number. As soon as she passed the phone back, Bradley sent her a text. “There,” he said. “Now you can reach me whenever you need me.”

She couldn’t hide her grin. But then she looked up at the rather large clock hanging above his sink. “I should probably get out of your hair,” she said, standing up. 

“I’ll drive you,” he said and stood up. 

As soon as they were dressed, Bradley helped her into the Bronco (something she could very easily get used to), and drove her to The Hard Deck, at her request. 

“You know,” he began while he drove her. “If you stick around, I could show you some pretty cool places in San Diego.”

She couldn’t help but smile as she turned to him, feet up on the dashboard. “I might just take you up on that.”

He pulled the Bronco up beside the most interesting car he had ever seen at The Hard Deck. The McLaren was gorgeous, he thought as he looked at it. “Thank you, Rooster,” she said and leaned over the centre console to place a kiss on his cheek. 

He watched her climb out of the Bronco, still wearing his clothes with her own tucked under her arm. It was almost comical, the way he pulled his aviators down to reveal his wide eyes once he realised what car she had unlocked. 

Who the hell was this girl?

Taglist: @fctnllvrs

@mimisweetz

@deep-sea-adventure

@remuslupinwifee

@evangelineimagine

@lindsayjoy444

@thedeadlynights

@nana-love-bugzzz

[runningincircl3s]

Who Are You?

Kickboxer!Noah x Reader

Chapter Nine

chapter warnings: ...a few nsfw mentions throughout, i hope this chapter lives up to the expectations and isn't too disappointing lmao i wrote it in SO many different ways and i just can't seem to be happy with it :/

masterlist ♡ i'm kinda nervous to post this... also i'm sorry it's late i was getting distracted by noahs streams

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

Three months. Countless dates, sleepovers, lazy mornings spent in your apartment. Thousands of kisses, many nights spent tangled under your sheets, and even a weekend away so the two of you could distance yourself from the rest of the world and be completely interrupted. You and Noah have barely left each other's side ever since the night of the party. You kept a framed picture of you and him from your cousin’s party by your bed, so even when he couldn’t be there with you, you still had a reminder of him.

Even after these months of being together he still brightened up your life in a way you never imagined was possible. And when you told him you loved him, that was only half true, because it was so much more than that. You just didn’t know how words could ever explain the way you really felt.

Noah was also just as in love. He was just slightly afraid of it sometimes when he got into his head. You made it so easy to forget about everything, about the band and all the stress in his life, so then when he would remember it’d come crashing down on him twice as hard- the guilt, the dread, the fear. He had been trying to find the right moment to tell you the truth, that he was the lead singer in a rather big band- a band which you believed he was just a fan of- but every time the moment came… it passed without him saying a word. 

So for now, he was just trying to live in the moment. Because when you do find out, it could go one of two ways- you accept it, or you don’t. And it would be inevitable, you were going to Rockfest, you'd be seeing him up there on the stage, so he was just enjoying the time he had whilst he could, he was letting himself be just Noah a little while longer. 

And that’s exactly why he agreed to coming to class again this week, knowing it might just be the last. 

He was leaving tomorrow to meet up with the band before they leave for the weekend, and he was just hoping to find the chance today to tell you everything. You deserved to hear it from him, and not to witness it with thousands of other people around screaming for him. 

“I think I can kick your ass now,” you grinned, stretching one leg out in a playful front kick toward his hip, just tapping him with your foot. “You’ve trained me too well.”

Noah caught your ankle mid air and smirked. 

“Oh yeah? You think you’re ready to take the master?”

“Master?” You scoffed, pulling your leg back with a laugh. “Please. You’re a softie! You’d let me kick your ass without even having to try just so you could see me smile.” You teased, knowing that would totally be the truth. 

Noah chuckled, shaking his head as he picked up the practice pads from by the bench, and turned back around to face you. 

“Show me what you got then, and maybe I’ll think about it.” 

Determined, you grinned and nodded your head, slipping your gloves onto your hands, giving him one last quick kiss before getting into your stance. 

Noah’s eyes stayed on you for a moment after the kiss... The grin on your face, the fire in your eyes, the bounce in your stance… it made something in his chest ache. God, he was going to miss this. Miss you. But he didn’t let it show. Instead, he raised the pads and gave you that little smirk that always made your knees a bit weak.

“Alright,” he nodded. “Let’s see how much you’ve learned.”

You started with a few jabs, just to warm up and find your rhythm. And as you did, the rest of the room began to fade away, all you could hear was the sound of your gloves hitting the pads and Noah calling out to you.

“Faster,” Noah grinned. “C’mon, I know you can hit harder than that... Give it to me, gimme all you got.”

You bit your lip and gave it your all. Left hook. Right cross. Front kick. Combos… He caught each one with the pads, nodding with satisfaction.

“Good,” he said, and you caught the look of pride in his eyes before he said, “Try a roundhouse.”

“What?” You scoffed, your eyes widening.

“C’mon, we’ve been practicing.” Noah grinned, “Just give it a try.”

Slowly, almost hesitantly, you nodded. 

“You sure you're ready for it?” You smirked. 

But he didn’t even answer, he just held the pad to where he thought was the right height and braced himself. He had faith in you but part of him was also preparing himself to have to catch you...

You got into the stance, making sure your footwork was correct, looking up to Noah as if to ask “is this right?” to which he nodded. 

Then, you did it. Your shin hit the pad with the most perfect form, making a loud satisfying snap through the gym, drawing attention from Tasha and a few others nearby.

All Noah could do after that was blink... Then he laughed, surprised and a little breathless.

“Oh fuck, that was beautiful,” he said. “That would've knocked me on my ass.”

“I told you I could kick your ass.” You were grinning so hard your cheeks hurt. 

He stared at you for a moment, taking in how happy that had made you… then he said in a much softer voice,

“That actually made me kind of emotional...”

“Shut up.” You laughed. 

“I’m serious,” Noah said, setting the pads down and pulling you in by the waistband of your shorts. “You’ve come so far, and it makes me so fucking proud knowing I got to be the one to teach you… This is a big moment for me too!”

You smiled at him, your heart aching a little with how tender his expression was. Like he really meant those words. 

“You’re such a sap.” You chuckled, tilting your head up to look at him. 

“Can you blame me?” He smirked, nudging your nose with his. “Now… Do you wanna spar?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” You grinned, your eyes sparkling as you pulled back. 

You pulled your gloves on tighter, tightening the velcro with a nice satisfying rip before bouncing on the balls of your feet. Your ponytail (which Noah had kindly tied for you) bobbed with each bounce, and your eyes narrowing as you focused on him. Across from you, Noah rolled his neck, then his shoulders and raised his hands, getting into stance with a smirk already tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Ready, baby?” He asked, his voice low and teasing.

“I was born ready, pretty boy,” you grinned. “Please don’t go easy on me this time.”

“Oh, I won’t.” He promised, though he already knew he absolutely would. 

You moved first, throwing a fast jab just to test him. He blocked it easily, barely even moving. Then you came in with a quick combo, trying to get under his guard, but he was already blocking it, light on his feet like the little shit he was.

“C’mon, is that all you got?” He taunted, “You were almost knocking me sideways five minutes ago, where’s all that fire now?”

“You want fire?” You narrowed your eyes.

He just smirked.

“I mean, yeah… a spark would be nice.”

You hit him with a right hook towards his side, but he dodged it like it was nothing. Everytime you threw a punch or kick, he found some way to block it, and as much as you loved this man he was really starting to piss you off.

“Oh my god.” You muttered, a little breathless now as he dodged another punch.

“Gotta be quicker than that, babe,” he grinned, then had the audacity to boop you in the middle of your stomach with a gloved hand, with a playful, “Boop.”

“Noah. Are you kidding me?” You dropped your arms to your sides, looking up at him with a seriously? look. 

But you jabbed at him again, this time faster, trying to do all you could to wipe that smug grin off his face, but he blocked it easily… then reached his foot around and he didn’t really kick, he just gave your ass a little nudge.

“NOAH!” You yelped, stumbling a little as he tried to bite back his laughter. 

“Gotta protect all your angles,” he said seriously, but the shit eating grin on his face ruined it. “You didn’t want me to go easy!” 

You lunged again without warning, trying to catch him off guard, but the little (very tall) bastard was still too fast. He sidestepped, and you ended up spinning a bit off balance.

“You’re so fucking annoying.” You muttered, resetting your stance.

And all he did was laugh.

You huffed and aimed low, pretending you were going for his leg, but then shot a punch up toward his shoulder. This one actually landed harder than intended, and he flinched with a soft grunt.

“There we go!” he laughed. “That’s my girl.”

“Noah.” You glared at him. “Stop laughing!”

“But you’re so cute when you’re mad at me.” He teased, and then he actually went in this time. 

He was fast and light on his feet, each jab had just enough pressure to keep you on defense, but he was still clearly holding back and toying with you. 

You were sweating. And fuming.

And then he fucking poked your forehead with his glove, grinning with another “boop!”

“ENOUGH!” You snapped, and with zero warning, you swept at his leg, a little taken back by your own strength, and took him down.

“SHIT!”

Noah stumbled, laughing in surprise, but he was faster than you thought. Before he fell down, he hooked an arm around your waist, and pulled you down with him.

You landed with an oof, your body sprawled half on top of him, your chest pressed to his as you both started to laugh breathlessly…

“You’re a menace.” You said, still trying to catch your breath.  

“Oh yeah? Or did you just want an excuse to be on top of me?” Noah whispered. 

You pushed up slightly, glaring at him, but you couldn’t keep the smile off your face. 

“You dragged me down with you, asshole.”

“No I didn’t,” he grinned, brushing his gloved hand over your side and gave you a mockingly affectionate pat. 

Then, as you sat up, still straddling him, he reached out and bopped you in the stomach again, followed by another “boop!”

“NOAH!” You yelped, trying to get off him, but he held you in place, wrapping his arms around you to trap you. 

“Oh no, baby, you started this,” he smirked, rolling you onto your back playfully. “Now you suffer the consequences.”

You wriggled, trying to push him off, but he just laid half across you like a weighted blanket, smirking down at you as he pulled his gloves off. 

“Get your sweaty ass off me!”

“Make me,” he challenged, lowering his face until your noses were almost touching. “Unless... I dunno... you wanna make out on the gym floor.”

“Ew, you’re disgusting.” You said, trying to bite back a smile.

"Hey, I saw that little smile, you’re into it.”

You glared at him playfully, your eyes narrowing…

Then you smirked, raising your hand and hitting him lightly on his right cheek. 

"Boop!" You grinned.

You did it again. And again. Not hard, but playful little slaps on both sides of his face.

“Let me go!” You giggled as you bopped him.

Noah didn't even flinch, he was laughing harder each time you tapped him. 

“No!” 

You reached for another slap, but this time, he caught your wrist. Then the other.

“Noah!”

“Alright, that’s it.” He pinned your hands above your head in one smooth, effortless move, still straddling your hips. “You brought this on yourself.”

“Noah, don’t you dare-”

He leaned down and began assaulting you with kisses.

First your cheek. Then your other cheek. Your nose. Your jaw. All over your face with rapid fire pecks while you shrieked and squirmed beneath him, unable to wipe the grin off your face.

“Stopppp!” You laughed. “You’re so annoying!”

“Oh yeah? You love it.” He kissed your forehead. 

“I do not-” kiss on your temple, “-you’re disgusting-” kiss on your nose, “-Noah!!”

He paused above you, eyes sparkling. 

“Wanna kiss me for real?”

Your heart skipped, but before you could answer…

“AHEM.”

You both froze.

Tasha stood at the edge of the mat, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.

“Guys, seriously? The locker room is literally right there.”

…

Class had not long wrapped up, a few people stayed behind to fill up their bottles, or to finish their conversations, but you and Noah were sat down, putting your shoes back on getting ready to leave, when you spotted Tasha struggling to put away the mats by herself. 

“C’mon,” Noah mumbled beside you, dragging himself off the floor with a groan and offering you a hand. “We should help.”

You let him pull you up, and the two of you padded around helping tidy the mats and reset the space, collecting stray gloves, practice pads, discarded towels, and bumping into each other every time you passed with a little smirk.

“You’re walking like you broke your hips.” You teased as Noah straightened up with a grunt.

“I might’ve, honestly. I haven’t been tackled that hard since… I dunno when.”

“Told you I’d kick your ass.” You smirked before walking off, passing Tasha the last pair of gloves. 

Before you could turn back and join your boyfriend again, you heard a voice coming from the back corner of the room. 

“Can’t wait to see you this weekend, man! You guys are gonna kill it.”

It was Dave, an older guy, tough as hell, never missed a class. He gave Noah a pat on the back as he passed, then disappeared toward the changing rooms.

Your brows furrowed, but you brushed it off, wandering back over to him. 

“Ready?” Noah asked, handing you your water bottle as he slung your gym bag over his shoulder along with his. 

“Yep.” You nodded, and you felt Noah lace his fingers through yours as you walked towards the door, shouting a quick goodbye to Tasha before heading out the doors. 

The quick exchange between Noah and Dave hit him like a slap, though you couldn’t tell. Because when Noah was with you, he genuinely forgot about that part of his life. About the whole other half of himself that he hadn’t figured out how to explain to you yet. He forgot today was supposed to be the day he tells you, as it’d be the last time he sees you before the show. 

And he couldn’t do it... It slipped from his mind completely. 

And now you were both walking back to your apartment to shower together, he promised to cook for you tonight, so he'd do that and then you’d probably fall asleep in each other's arms. 

And he couldn’t tell you now. Not yet. As selfish as it made him feel, he needed this. Just once more, just to prove to himself it was possible to be loved... because you loved him, and he had a feeling that would change in a few days. 

So instead, he smiled again and pressed a kiss to your cheek as you stepped into your apartment building, trying not to let the guilt consume him…

Once the door to your apartment clicked shut behind you, you dropped your bag by the shoe rack, shrugged your hoodie off with a relieved sigh, and turned back to Noah, who was watching you with a lazy smirk, his shoes already kicked off, setting his phone down on the kitchen counter.

“So… shower?” You asked, glancing toward the bathroom.

“Unless you want sweaty hugs all night.” He teased as he followed you down the hall. 

The second the bathroom door shut behind you, the air between you seemed to feel a little different, you both still got a little shy being naked around each other, even after all the times you’ve seen each other bare, it still felt like something sacred.

You both undressed, stealing little glances every now and then. He stepped out of his shorts, you pulled off your tshirt. He unclasped your bra for you before letting you tug his shirt off. 

Then you turned on the water and tested the temperature, letting it warm up as Noah stood behind you, leaning down to press a kiss to your bare shoulder, his hands coming to rest on your waist. His hands lingered as you stepped into the shower first, sighing when you felt the water hit your skin. He followed after, ducking slightly to fit under the stream.

You moved behind him, fingers reaching for the bottle of shampoo. 

“Tilt your head, babe.” You whispered, and he obeyed, eyes carefully shutting as you lathered the shampoo in your hands before working it into his hair.

“I love when you take care of me.” He sighed, relaxing into your touch, his voice a little husky.

“Good,” you smiled, rising on your tiptoes to reach the crown of his head. “Maybe then you’ll stop booping me during class.”

When he leaned forward to rinse, his arms braced on the tile, your eyes drifted down, spotting a rather big bruise blooming near his left hip. Probably from when you’d taken him down. You felt a sense of pride for a second… but then something softer hit you, and you felt a little bad.

You reached a hand out, fingers brushing just above the mark, and Noah tensed. 

“Did I do this?” You asked quietly.

“What?” He glanced down at it, then gave you a smile. “It’s not that bad. You’ve left worse on me.”

Still, you leaned in, pressing the gentlest kiss to the center of the bruise.

Noah’s entire body jolted. His hands pressed harder on the tile, his eyes screwing shut.

“Fuck.” He whispered beneath his breath, not at you, but at himself. Don’t get hard. Don’t be a perv. She’s just being sweet. But your mouth lingered for a second too long, and now he was cursed with the image of you kissing down his stomach like that, going lower and lower…

You stood again, completely unaware of what you had just done to him, and gave him another order.

“Turn around.” You said, your voice still a little playful. 

And he did, he turned around slowly, watching you take the body wash into your hands, once again rubbing it into a lather before letting your hands spread it across his tattooed chest, his shoulders, his arms…

You washed him like he was something precious- and he was... He was yours. Your hands were gentle and caring, but as you got to his armpits you couldn’t resist a quick tickle, just to watch him giggle as he tried to squirm away. 

And when he returned the favour, he was just as gentle. Gently working his fingers into your scalp with shampoo before reaching for the conditioner. Then, once he'd poured some body wash onto his hands, he reached for your body with no assumptions, nothing sexual what so ever.  But there was a soft ache in his heart as his palms skimmed over arms, your chest, your breasts, thumbs barely brushing your nipples as he washed you with care, like he thought this might be the last time. The last moment he could ever touch you like this.

“You okay?” You asked, watching him closely, noticing the moment he started to get in his head. 

He nodded, with a smile that was barely there. 

“Yeah. Just… I can’t believe you love me.”

You blinked, a little confused. But before you could say anything, he just leaned in and kissed you under the water, slow open mouthed kisses that made the water feel colder in comparison to his heat. You wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling into his mouth.

Noah knew he’d remember tonight forever, though he was sure it’d be one you’d try to wipe from your memory. Soapy arms. Dripping hair. Kisses that left you breathless...

Noah held you close under the stream after he pulled away, his eyes fluttering shut again, not in panic this time, but peace. 

When your fingertips began to prune you knew it was time to get out of the shower. Noah handed you a towel before grabbing one for himself. He ruffled his hair with it quickly before he wrapped it low around his hips… and you caught yourself staring.

“What?” He raised an eyebrow, a smug smile on his face.

 “Nothing.” You bit your lip, wrapping your towel around your chest and wandering out to your bedroom. 

Noah followed you in, flipping off the bathroom light. Once he joined you in your room, he still couldn’t help himself again. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, pressing kisses to your jaw, your neck, your shoulder…

You leaned back into him instinctively, letting out a soft sigh. He nosed at your neck, lips grazing just below your ear.

“You smell good.” He said between kisses.

“Well we did just shower.” You giggled, eyes shutting for a second before you turned arounf to face him. You leaned in and kissed him softly, your fingers rising to cup his jaw. Then the kiss deepened, and his arms tightened around your waist.

One step backwards and the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. You giggled against his mouth as you both toppled down, towels loosening upon impact.

“Oops.” You chuckled, smiling up at him.

“Oops,” he echoed, kissing your cheek, your jaw, down to your collarbone. “Your towel’s in the way.”

“Then do something about it.” You grinned. 

Noah didn’t need to be told twice.

He pushed himself up just enough to tug at the towel, watching it fall open, revealing your bare chest to him. One hand slid gently up your ribs, cupping one breast so carefully it made your stomach flip.

“So pretty." He whispered, thumb brushing over your nipple, making it pebble beneath his touch. He leaned down to kiss your chest, switching from one side to the other, letting his fingers wander down to squeeze your hip… then around to your ass.

You gasped as he gave it a firmer squeeze, his thigh sliding between yours. His other hand came up to toy with your breast again, drawing out a soft moan from your lips.

“Noah…” You giggled breathlessly, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes.

“Hm?” He asked innocently, lips still trailing along your jaw.

“You said you were gonna cook for me tonight...”

He groaned, resting his forehead to yours with a lazy smile. 

“I am… I’m just tenderising the meat.”

“You’re such a freak!” You burst into laughter, smacking his arm lightly.

He grinned and gave your ass another squeeze. 

“I know.” He smirked.  

You rolled your eyes and kissed him again, your fingers sliding into his damp hair. You stayed like this for a moment, until you finally pulled away, grabbing your towel again and pulling it back over yourself.

“C’mon,” you said, pushing him off of you so you could sit up, “We need to get dressed.”

Noah flopped onto his back dramatically, you didn't know how the hell his towel was still on.

“Fine… But will I be getting dessert later?” 

“Maybe,” you teased as you stood up. “But you'll have to earn it.”

Noah sighed, standing up and quickly drying off before pulling on a pair of black joggers. You were still sat on the edge of your bed, clutching your towel to your chest as your eyes lingered on his v-line... 

“I better get started then.” He said with a smile, kissing your forehead before heading out to your kitchen. 

The sound of kitchen drawers opening and shutting echoed through the walls while you got dressed. You pulled on an oversized t-shirt (his, of course) and a clean pair of underwear before heading out.

You found Noah standing shirtless at the stove, looking very domestic, very... boyfriend.

He was tossing something around in a frying pan with one hand while scrolling through a recipe on his phone with the other, and you couldn't help but smile to yourself.

Crossing the room quietly, you snuck up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your cheek between his shoulder blades. He tensed the slightest in surprise, then relaxed against your touch.

“Smells good already.” You murmured, pressing a kiss to his bicep.

“Thanks, baby. I hope it tastes good too.”

“Need help with anything?”

“Nope.” He turned his head to look at you over his shoulder, the softest smile on his face. “Just sit down and look pretty.”

“Oh, I can do that.” You grinned. 

Instead of sitting on the couch like he expected, you hopped up onto the counter just beside the stove, legs swinging as you watched him work in your kitchen like he belonged here.

He kept flashing you little smiles, stealing kisses as he moved around the kitchen. One every time he passed you- on your temple, your cheek, your lips. The last one lingered a little longer, his mouth brushing yours until you sighed into him.

“Focus,” you whispered, brushing your nose against his, “Don’t burn my kitchen down.”

“Not my fault,” he whispered back. “You’re distracting me.”

But something shifted in him after that...

You noticed he got quieter, and he was being less playful. He checked the pan, stirred a little too aggressively, and didn’t look at you again right away when he walked past.

You tilted your head.

“Noah?” You asked gently. “Are you okay?”

He paused, and took a breath.

Then slowly turned to face you, one hand gripping the edge of the countertop.

“There’s... something I kinda need to tell you,” he said seriously. “You might get mad. And if you do… I understand. But I just- I need to tell you now before it’s too late.”

Your stomach dropped. You tried to look into his eyes, tried to work out what was happening.

“What is it?”

He opened his mouth.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

The smoke alarm blared out.

Noah flinched and spun around with a startled “shit!!” and you nearly fell off the counter laughing. 

“Oh my god- Noah!” You wheezed between breaths.

“I fucking- oh shit!” He grabbed a dish towel and started waving it frantically beneath the alarm, whilst you watched the smoke rising from the pan. “I only turned away for a second!”

…

It was late now, and you were already curled up in bed under the sheets, eyes heavy, already half asleep. But when Noah stepped into the room, you turned your head. 

He looked tired. Not just from the day, or from the gym, but something else... His shoulders were a little slouched, his eyes weren’t as bright as they usually were, it was like whatever weight he’d been carrying all day had finally worn him down.

Still, he smiled when he saw you.

“You coming to bed?” You asked, your voice slurring sleepily.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Just a minute.”

He disappeared into the bathroom, and you heard him brushing his teeth, the water running, then shutting off. When he came back, he was barefoot, dressed down in just his boxers. He checked his phone, then locked it and set it aside on the nightstand. 

You were already half asleep again when the mattress dipped under his weight. He slipped beneath the covers and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like you belonged there.

You let out a content sigh, nuzzling into him.

“Mmm,” you mumbled. “Didn’t want to fall sleep without you.”

“I’m here now, angel.” He whispered into your hair.

But he couldn’t stop cursing himself in his head.

He had all day to tell you the truth, to tell you he wasn’t exactly who he said he was. He should’ve told you when you first asked, the first ever class, before you got to know each other, before things got more complicated.

For the last few months he’d laid awake thinking about you, knowing that every second he let pass without telling you the truth would only make the damage worse. But every time he had the chance, he couldn’t do it. And now, with your body pressed warm against his, with your hand resting so gently on his arm, he wasn’t sure he could do it now either.

His fingers rested lightly on your waist, brushing little patterns against your skin. Like he was memorising it... Like he needed to...

Because this might be the last time he ever got to hold you in bed.

You shifted slightly in your sleep, moving even closer to him, letting out a quiet sigh. He felt you melt into him completely, your breathing deep and slow now.

You trusted him, you felt safe with him. Even in your sleep you didn't want to leave his side.

And that broke him…

Noah closed his eyes and pressed his lips to your shoulder. He stayed like that for a long moment, listening to the steady sound of your breathing.

Then, quietly, he whispered.

"I'm so sorry." His voice was barely more than breath, he could barely even hear himself, “I love you. So much.”

…

The first couple days of Rockfest were amazing. You and your friends saw so many of the bands you loved, and found some new ones you’ve never heard of before, but they would definitely be added to your playlists.

You just wished Noah was here with you… you sent him videos and pictures throughout the day, and you’d tell him about how fun it was so far, completely unaware that he was here too. Completely unaware that he was watching the same bands as you from the side of the stage, hidden to the crowd. Completely unaware that he could see you, behind his hat and sunglasses and hood, smiling when he spotted you and your friends in the crowd.

But now, it was the third day.

The last day.

The day Bad Omens would be playing, and Noah felt sick. He hadn’t slept for the last three nights, and he was so close to just getting Jolly to go on stage and apologise, to say he was sick and wasn’t able to play. 

But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t disappoint all those people who had come for the band, just because he got caught up in a lie (though he never really lied, he just didn’t tell the full truth.)

Noah was still lying in bed, the sheets kicked off hours ago, when his phone buzzed. He reached over, taking it from the nightstand and reading his notifications, but only one really stood out to him. 

You: good morning!! It’s bad omens day :) i’ll make sure to send you a couple videos hehe

You: also i can’t wait to see you when i get home tomorrow, and i can’t wait to kiss you… and i can’t wait to hug you <3

Noah dragged a hand down his face with a grunt, and at that moment, Ruffilo came out of the bathroom, freshly showered. 

“What’s that face for?” He asked with a chuckle, drying his hair with a towel. 

“She told me she can’t wait to see me tomorrow,” Noah sighed, “Dude, I can’t fucking do this.” 

“Text her. Explain it to her-”

“No, she deserves better than a fucking text!” Noah snapped, throwing his phone down on to the bed. He sat up, scrubbing his hands through his hair, tugging a little too hard at the roots as if that could pull the thoughts out of his head.

“Okay, okay.” Ruffilo nodded, “But man, you’re spiraling. Take a breath.”

“I can’t,” Noah muttered, “How the hell am I ever going to explain this? She thinks I’m at home, she-”

“I know,” Ruff said carefully, crossing the room to sit at the edge of the bed. “But she also doesn’t know how much this is killing you. You’re making yourself sick.”

Noah didn’t reply. He just stared blankly at the phone beside him, jaw clenched tight, chest rising and falling like the air in the room was too thin. Ruffilo watched him for a moment. 

“She loves you, you know. Like, she really loves you.”

“I know,” Noah whispered. His voice cracked. “That’s the worst part.”

Ruffilo shook his head. 

“No, because if she really does love you, this won’t change anything. She might feel a little hurt at first, but can you blame her? You just need to show her how you really-”

BANG. BANG. BANG.

“NOAH!!!”

Ruff jumped up so fast he dropped the towel in his hand. 

“What the fuck?”

“Open the door! Now!” Matt’s voice rang out, probably echoing down the halls.

Noah launched off the bed and crossed the room. He flung the door open, and Matt barrelled in without waiting.

“She’s here,” he panted. “She’s here, man. I just saw her down in the lobby. She’s staying in this fucking hotel.”

…

You were slumped on a couch in the hotel lobby, legs stretched out, sipping from a can of coke. Kylie sat beside you, scrolling on her phone, with her backpack sat by her feet.

"How long does it take to grab a key?" You groaned, leaning your head back dramatically.

“Honey, this is James. He takes an hour to pick a fucking pair of socks.” Kylie said, making you snort. 

“But he needs to hurry up- I need to get changed! I’ll storm the front desk if I have to.” You frowned, looking down at the shirt some idiot decided to spill a whole cup of beer all over, leaving you smelling like a brewery at 11am. 

Kylie chuckled, then perked up, nudging you with her elbow. 

“Okay, don’t look yet. But look. Cutie alert. Just walked through the door. Black shirt. Tattoos. Long hair.”

You turned your head lazily, following her gaze, and for a second you didn’t get it... It was just a guy dressed in black, clearly in a rush, glancing around like he was looking for someone. But then he turned around…

Oh. You knew that face.

Not well, but well enough.

“Wait…” you sat up straighter. “No way.”

Kylie turned to you, eyebrows raised. 

“Wait what? You know him?”

“Kind of?” You squinted. “I think that’s Matt… Noah’s friend? The one I was paired with at the gym that time and we made Noah jealous.”

“No way,” Kylie’s eyes widened, “Seriously? That’s him? You didn't tell me he was hot.”

You ignored her comment and stood up before your brain could stop you, waving your arm like an idiot. 

“Matt! Hey! Matt!”

“What are you doing!?” Kylie hissed. 

Matt turned around, his eyes widening in horror when he saw your face. 

“Holy shit,” you whispered, lowering your arm slowly. “Yeah that’s him. That’s definitely him.”

And then he slowly started to wander over to the two of you. 

“Hey!” He grinned, even though he looked a little like he was being held at gun point, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for Rockfest?... What are you doing here?”

“I…. Yeah, me too! I’m actually a.. uh, a sound tech?” He didn’t sound too sure about that, “And... well I work with bands, basically. That’s why I’m here.” 

“Oh, that’s cool.” You grinned, glancing at Kylie from the corner of your eye, seeing the blush on her cheeks, “Also, my friend wants to know if you're single?”

…

“She’s staying here?” Noah’s eyes widened.

“Yes!! I thought I was hallucinating, but no. She called out to me and and started talking to me!” Matt gestured wildly. “But what are the fucking odds?”

Noah turned around, pressing both hands to his face. 

“Jesus Christ.”

“She was with her friend, the one with the red hair, pretty face. I kinda gave her my number-” 

“Kylie?” Noah raised an eyebrow, and Matt nodded. 

“I don’t know how the fuck we’re gonna get you out of here for soundcheck if she's sat out there waiting.” Matt frowned, shaking his head. 

“You say that like you want to cart him out in a box.” Ruff laughed.

“I can’t do this,” Noah mumbled. “I can’t fucking do this.”

“Bro,” Matt pointed a finger at him, eyes wide, “You can’t not do this either. You go on stage in a few hours, we need to get out there and set up.”

Ruffilo crossed his arms. 

“We need a plan.”

“What kind of plan?” Noah sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed again. 

“I’ve got it!” Matt gasped, reaching for the bag Noah kept his stage outfit in. 

…

James finally walked out of the revolving door, holding up the hotel keycard for your room. 

“What took you so long?” You asked, jumping to your feet to grab the key off him. 

“There was a guy out there asking for directions, I thought I’d help him out but I kinda got us both lost instead.” 

“Of course you did.” Kylie snorted. 

“Hey! I can’t help that I’m directionally challenged.”

“I’m gonna go change.” You said, passing Kylie your phone and drink, “I can’t smell like beer any longer. Watch my stuff?”

“Always.” She smiled.

You headed for the elevators and pressed the button, bouncing a little on your feet. You were still thinking about Matt, how wild it was that he was here, how awkward he looked when you called out to him. He almost looked like he’d seen a ghost...

The elevator doors opened and you stepped inside, pressing the button for your floor. You made it to your room, and quickly changed into something clean. You sprayed a cloud of deodorant, then put on some perfume- the one that was Noah’s favourite... 

You spotted your bag by the chair in the corner of the room, and grabbed it, shoving a few extra essentials into it, and headed back to the elevator.

And as the doors opened, you stepped inside.

You didn’t even notice who else was in the elevator at first, just a bunch of tall, tattooed guys. Hot and intimidating, probably Kylie’s type... As the doors started to close behind you, that’s when it clicked.

You blinked. Then looked over at them and just stared.

No. No fucking way.

“Wait,” you said, eyes bouncing from one face to another. “Oh my god. You guys are- You’re Bad Omens.”

They all looked over at you. Jolly offered a soft smile. Folio let out a little laugh. Ruffilo nodded. But the guy in the back… tall, quiet, black pants, jacket and mask, he didn’t say anything.

But your stomach stupidly flipped when you looked at him.

“Holy shit,” you beamed. “My boyfriend and I love you guys! I think he’s your biggest fan- He’s going to freak the fuck out when I tell him I saw you!”

The Nicks exchanged looks, and Jolly chuckled under his breath.

The masked one shifted slightly, but he was still silent. Still staring at the elevator wall.

You giggled, already reaching for your back pocket, then cursed softly.

“Fuck, I left my phone with Kylie… I was gonna ask if I could get a picture to show Noah, but-” 

CLUNK.

The elevator jolted rather aggressively

“Shit,” Jolly cursed under his breath, “I fucking hate elevators.”

The lights flickered once, then twice. Then everything cut out..

You were in total darkness. 

“Oh… that’s not good,” you mumbled, forcing a shaky laugh. “That’s definitely not good.”

Another moment passed in silence. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. You couldn’t see anything. Not the metal walls, not the buttons, not the band you were just fangirling over seconds ago.

But you felt your chest tighten like never before.

Fuck. Were you gonna die here?

You swallowed hard and tried to fight away the panic starting to creep up on you.

You hated the dark. 

But not only were you in the dark, you were in a broken elevator at least ten floors off the ground. 

The air was starting to feel heavier, thicker even, as if the walls had closed in a little tighter. You couldn’t see a damn thing, only the vague outline of someone’s shoulder when your eyes adjusted.

You tried to breathe. Just breathe.

Your hands clenched at your sides. You were fine. You were with people. It wasn’t like you were trapped alone... It wasn’t like you were going to die here. It wasn’t like the air was thinning. It wasn’t like you could already feel the heat sticking to the back of your neck, sweat beginning to bead across your forehead. 

“You okay?” Jolly asked, voice gentle, breaking the tension.

“I… yeah.” You lied, trying not to sound as panicked as you felt.

“Shit,” Folio muttered beside you, shifting on his feet. He cleared his throat, and though he was trying to act calm, but you could hear the panic hiding just beneath the surface. “Anyone got signal?”

Ruffilo checked his phone. 

“Nope.”

“Emergency button’s not doing anything either,” Jolly added. “Think we’re stuck.”

No.

No, no, no.

You stepped back, instinctively searching for something to grasp or lean on, your back hitting the cool mirrored panel of the wall. You pressed into it like it could open up, swallow you whole and take you anywhere but here.

The elevator felt like it was getting smaller with each moment passing. Each breath was harder to take than the last. You could hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears, accompanied by a ringing sound that drowned out even the quiet chatter between the guys.

God, you were so fucking stupid.

You should’ve taken the stairs. 

The floor shook a little, making your knees buckle. You didn’t mean to make a sound, but a quiet whimper slipped from your lips before you could bite it back.

That’s when he moved, the guy in the mask.

The one who hadn’t said a single word.

Noah...

His hand twitched at his side, fingers curling like he wanted to reach for you, like every instinct in his body was telling him to go to you, but he couldn't. He could see the fear in your features even in the dark, the trembling of your hands, the pace that your chest was rising and falling, the way you kept your eyes screwed shut. 

He wanted to hold you, to pull you close and whisper that it was okay, you were okay, he had you.

But he couldn’t.

Not like this.

Not with the mask on. Not with you thinking he was just some quiet, weird, anonymous guy in a band.

If he even spoke, if he tried to comfort you the way he wanted to, you’d know. You’d hear it. You’d know it was him.

So he stood frozen, helpless, watching the girl he loved more than anything in the world fighting off a panic attack right in front of him, and he didn’t do a goddamn thing about it.

Ruffilo looked over at him.

He saw the way Noah’s fists clenched, he saw the way his body had shifted toward you, like a magnet.

And he glared, giving him a look to say “you owe me one” as he stepped forward. 

Nicholas was gentle as he stood in front of you, but Noah could see the way his jaw ticked. He was pissed. Not at you, but at him. At the fact that he was the one who had to do this.

“Hey,” Ruffilo said softly, gently reaching for your hand as if he was trying to just ground you, “You’re alright. It’s okay. Deep breaths, okay? Just look at me.”

You nodded, opening your eyes again, and even in the darkness Ruffilo saw how they were full of tears. 

“I know it feels scary right now, but we’re safe, okay? Elevators have brakes, and backup cables. They’re not going to let us fall.”

Your bottom lip quivered. 

“I- I know that, I just-”

“What’s your name?” He asked gently.

You swallowed, and told him. 

He smiled, like it was the first time he’d heard it. 

Because the strangest part about this might just be that you thought these guys were strangers, and to you they might be, but they all knew you. Noah never shut up about you, they'd overheard your phone calls, they'd seen all the pictures Noah took of you during dates when he thought you looked pretty...

But you didn't know that.

“Nice to meet you, y/n. You might already know but I’m Nick. That’s Jolly. That’s our other Nick, we call him Folio. That coward in the corner is our cryptid, but don’t worry, he’s friendly.”

A small, broken laugh left your lips.

“Do you wanna sit?” Ruffilo asked. “Or like, kneel maybe? Sometimes it helps when you feel like the floor’s not moving under you.”

You nodded and held his hands as you sat down. He knelt beside you, keeping his voice low and steady while you tried to get you to breathe through it.

But Noah hadn’t moved. He couldn’t.

His throat was tight, and his heart was aching. Watching you cry, watching someone else comfort you while you clearly needed him, it tore him apart.

He couldn’t touch you. Couldn’t hold you. Couldn’t even say your name. Every second felt like he was being crushed in a vice, watching you suffer, knowing he could make it stop… but not without blowing his cover. He’d give anything to be the one beside you. To whisper your name. To stroke your hair. To press a kiss to your forehead and promise it was all okay.

But instead, all he could do was stay silent and watch. Because if you were to find out now that your boyfriend was a lead singer of his favourite band while you thought you were about to die in a broken elevator, he’d have no chance of forgiveness. 

But there was one thing he could do, if nothing else. 

A soft glow appeared near the centre of the floor, just enough to illuminate everyone's legs and shoes. Someone had turned on their flashlight and placed their phone face down.

You blinked at the glow, then slowly looked toward the figure who’d done it.

Him…

The one in the mask. Still standing in the corner, unmoving. He didn’t say a word, he hadn’t done since you walked in. He didn’t look up either. 

“Thanks.” You whispered softly, but he didn’t respond. 

Didn’t nod. Didn’t shift.

He just stood there, staring at the wall like he couldn’t bear to look at you.

...

You didn’t know how long it had been. Five minutes? Ten? An hour?

Time was strange in here, every second dragged, but at least now you felt like you could breathe. You felt less afraid of dying in here. 

Eventually, someone suggested you all sit down to wait it out. There was no signal. No one could call for help. And banging on the walls had only made Folio feel queasy.

So now you were all sat in a kind of circle around the phone flashlight in the middle of the floor, it almost felt like a makeshift campfire glowing against everyone’s tired faces.

You found yourself between Jolly and the masked guy, and he still hadn’t said a word. Not once. And he still hadn’t looked at you. 

The other guys talked quietly between themselves, but you weren’t really listening. Your mouth felt so dry it was hard to focus on anything else- and you had left your drink with Kylie.

You swallowed, throat tight as you open your mouth to speak. 

“Does anyone have any water?” You asked quietly, barely louder than a whisper.

As you looked up, you saw the masked guy holding a gloved hand out to you, handing you a sealed bottle of water.

He still didn’t say a word, he didn’t meet your eyes, but your fingers brushed his cool glove as you took it.

“Thank you.” You whispered again

But he still didn’t answer. He just folded his arms across his chest with his head down. 

You stared after him, just for a moment... He didn’t seem like the others. He hadn’t said a word. Hadn’t even looked at you. And yet he’d been the first to give you light. The first to offer water.

Despite the mask, and the way his full body was covered, something about him made you feel... safe. They all did. 

Nick- Ruffilo- nudged you gently. 

“Go slow with it,” he said softly, gesturing to the bottle. “You’ll feel worse if you drink too fast.”

You nodded and uncapped it, the cool water burning almost sweet as it touched your dry throat. It helped. Not a lot, but just enough.

You fell into silence again after that. Time slowed, stretching so painfully you couldn’t tell if five minutes had passed or twenty.

Then, suddenly the elevator made another sudden clunk sound. Your body jerked instinctively and you let out a tiny gasp before you could stop it. It was a reflex, just nerves, but it felt humiliating, especially in front of strangers.

Then… something unexpected happened.

The gloved hand carefully reached across the floor.

You blinked at it. Then at the masked man.

He didn’t speak, and still didn’t look at you. He kept his hood up and his head down, but just offered his hand across the space between you, as if to say here… take it, if you need it.  

Your heart ached… You didn’t know why this act, this out of everything, made you feel like crying all over again. Maybe it was the gentleness of it, or the fact that even without saying anything or looking at you, he still wanted to comfort you.

You hesitated, then slipped your hand into his.

His gloves were leather, soft and warm from the heat of his palm. He didn’t squeeze, didn’t stroke the back of your hand or anything overtly affectionate like he usually would’ve done. He just held your hand.

And you didn’t even notice the way he was trembling beside you. 

He felt your hand in his like it was the first time all over again. The way he felt the warmth of you even through the leather. The trust, the way it made his chest hurt to see you so afraid.

He stared hard at the floor beneath him, blinking through tears that welled behind the mask. No one could see. No one would know. But the moment your hand touched his, his throat felt raw.

He shouldn’t have reached for you. He knew that. But he couldn’t help it.

Because even behind the mask, as the guy you didn’t know, he still loved you.

And he knew you hated the dark.

You still weren't sure know how long it had been, but at some point the lights finally came back on, and you felt a wave of relief, then the elevator started to move.

You blinked, your eyes adjusting after so long in the dark, and finally let go of a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding. Around you, the guys started moving slowly, cautiously, like they were still bracing for something to go wrong again. 

You didn’t move though. Not right away... Because his hand was still in yours.

That gloved hand. You’d held onto it the entire time, and he hadn’t let go.

Now, with the lights back on, you glanced up at him. The mask still hid his face and expression. He was staring at the doors, just waiting. But you noticed something else... the way his chest rose just a little too quickly. Like he’d been holding back panic of his own.

Quietly, you loosened your fingers. Let him go.

“…Thank you.” You said softly.

He still didn’t speak, he just gave the smallest of nods. But somehow, it meant everything.

The elevator doors finally opened, as if none of what had just happened mattered. A hotel staff member stood waiting in the hallway, startled by the sight of five people stepping out looking like they’d just survived an apocalypse.

“Hey,” you said, pausing in the hallway, turning back to the guys as they checked on each other. “I just… I really wanted to say thank you.”

They looked up at you, clearly surprised.

“You were all so kind in there. It sounds silly but I can’t wait to tell my boyfriend about this... He’s obsessed with you guys, and he’s gonna lose his mind when he hears his favourite band is full of the sweetest guys I’ve ever met.”

They all thanked you, or smiled and nodded… But the masked one- the one you didn’t know was actually your boyfriend- he just turned away slightly as if that praise stung him.

Because he’s never felt more of a coward in his life. 

But as everyone wandered off, you found your friends and the guys walked towards the doors, Noah stayed there, still watching you. Watching as Kylie threw her arms around you, as James stood with his hands on his hips, they’d both probably been worried about you too. 

At least he knew you had love in your life. You'd still be surrounded by it, even if it wasn’t his anymore. That much gave him comfort. When it all came crashing down, at least you wouldn’t be left in the rubble by yourself.

…

“So what even happened back there?” James asked, “You said you got stuck but… what happened?” 

You, Kylie and James were all sat in your spot ready for Bad Omens to come out. Hours had passed since the elevator incident, but you were still a little shaken up by it- but you knew you’d never have a bad word to say about that band. The guys were so sweet. 

“So, I stepped in and everything was fine. I’d just gotten changed out of the beer shirt- thank god it happened after I got changed, I don’t know how the guys would’ve coped in there if I stank of beer,” you laughed, “Anyways, I told them me and my boyfriend are big fans and then… the lights went out and it shook a little, and it made this loud sound.” 

“Shit…” Kylie frowned. 

“I wasn’t the only one freaking out though,” you smiled, “Their drummer, his name's Folio- don’t tell Noah I said this but he’s kinda cute- he was a little panicked too. Then Nicholas, he told me to call him Nick, came up to me and calmed me down, he got me to do some breathing exercises… but it was the masked one who surprised me the most.” 

“What happened?” James asked, wiggling his eyebrows. “Did he take the mask off and kiss you? Did you have a spiderman moment?”

“No! I have a boyfriend, you idiot!” You laughed, “But I guess maybe he somehow knew I was afraid of the dark, because he was the one to turn his phones flash on, and when I needed a drink he gave me his water and… when I thought we were all gonna die he held his hand out to me…”

“That’s so sweet.” Kylie pouted, “Maybe don’t tell Noah that part though, he might get a little jealous.” 

You all laughed, but when the moment passed, James checked his phone. 

“Okay, 30 minutes until they’re on. If you guys keep our spot I might go get some more water?”

“Good idea.” You smiled, setting your bag down in the spot James had left when he stood up, “Could you get me one too?”

“And me.” Kylie smiled. 

With an exaggerated sigh, James nodded and wandered off. 

“Kylie?”

“Hm?”

“I noticed something about the masked guy.”

“...What was it?”

…

James let out a long sigh as he finally reached the water stand, he had been here far too many times in the last few days. 

But whilst he was catching his breath, something caught his eye… the girl in front of him was holding her phone, looking at whatever notification had popped up- and being his nosy self, James glanced over. 

Only to see a picture of… Noah? As her lockscreen? 

He squinted, as if he’d able to see it clearer. But it was already there, clear as day. 

Your fucking boyfriend. On another girls phone? 

He blinked, wondering if he’d gotten it wrong, but he couldn’t have. The tattoos were the same, the hair was the same, and he knew the shirt he was wearing- the Cher one that James asked very nicely about borrowing. 

The girl turned around and noticed him staring, and saw the utterly baffled look on his face, and gave him a polite smile.

James pointed, slowly, still looking at her phone. 

“Uh... Hi. Quick question, why do you have a photo of my best friend’s boyfriend as your lockscreen?”

She let out a soft laugh, clearly thinking this was some kind of joke. 

“Is your best friend a Bad Omens fan too?”

James’ brows knitted together, even more confused now. 

“Huh?”

She turned her phone so he could see it better. 

“You know… Noah Sebastian. He’s the lead singer?”

James went very still.

“…Lead… singer…” He repeated blankly, as if he’s never heard those words before in his life. 

“Mhm! I’ve loved them for years. I’m so excited, I’ve never actually seen them live before!”

James tried to process this, then squinted. 

“Wait- you think that guy is famous?”

The girl, who was now starting to feel equally as confused, tilted her head. 

“Uh, yeah? He’s like, insanely talented. And hot. Your friends isn’t dating him-”

“Okay, no. Honey, that’s where you’re wrong.” James held up a hand like he was stopping traffic. “That’s Noah, Noah from the gym, Hot Gym Guy- He wears grandpa slippers and plays animal crossing!” He reached into his pocket to pull his phone out, shit, only 5% battery, but he needed to prove this girl wrong. 

Then, he found it. The picture you sent the group chat of Noah asleep in your bed, from one of the first nights he stayed over, with the message he’s so cute :(

The girl just blinked, confused and mildly alarmed.

“He’s been dating my best friend for three months, they met at the gym- or she found him on the street but that doesn’t matter… what do you mean he’s a lead singer? Of what?”

“Bad Omens…” She said, a little scared now, “I thought… How don’t you know?”

“Noah is the lead singer of Bad Omens??”James gasped, “NO FUCKING WAY I KNEW THE SINGER WOULD BE HOT!!”

The girl laughed, still mildly confused. 

“I thought… he wears a mask so... I didn’t think anyone knew who the singer was?”

“He’s never been anonymous,” she laughed, “It sounds like he’s got a lot of explaining to do to your friend.” 

James didn’t think about that... About what this meant. 

Noah never wanted to talk about his job, and when he did he was only very vague about it…

Instead of saying anything back, James just collected three water bottles and tried to call you or Kylie. 

You didn’t answer, and his phone battery had dropped to 2% by the time he tried Kylie.

“Hello?" Her voice sounded a little panicked over the phone, "Is everything okay? You’re not lost are you-”

“KYLIE I THINK NOAH’S FAMOUS!!”

…

“Huh, that’s weird.” Kylie frowned, looking at her phone. 

“What’s up?” You asked. 

“James called just to hang up on me?”

You shrugged, looking back over at the stage, waiting so patiently for Bad Omens to come on. 

“He’s probably just doing it for attention, so you don’t forget about him whilst he’s gone.” You both snickered. 

After a few minutes, the preshow music that had been playing quietened… and the lights dimmed. You felt goosebumps all up your arms as you giggled, grabbing Kylie’s arm. 

“It’s starting!” She grinned. 

You watched the drummer- Folio, you had learnt his name earlier- come out first, sitting at his drum kit. Then, the bass and guitar players followed, Nick and Jolly. There was a track playing in the background, someone speaking, though you couldn’t really work out what was being said.

Then… the masked guy walked out, head down, hood up, making his way over to the mic stand. 

“Can you see yourself… through the bruises when the makeup melts…”

“Concrete jungle!!” You grinned, bouncing up and down as you gripped Kylie’s arm, singing along with the guy and the crowd. 

“Where the hell is James?” Kylie frowned, looking around. 

“Fuck James, I need to send this to Noah!” 

“I said it’s enough… I begged and I ran in circles…”

The guy pulled his hood down, and you could hear everyone scream, making you giggle. 

“And I’m the fucking KING”

“I think they sound even better live.” Kylie grinned, shouting over everyone else. 

“They do!” You shouted back, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the masked guy. 

You had told Kylie earlier you noticed he had a similar bracelet on to Noah, and you’d know since there was a rather dirty night between you two where he fucked you while you wore nothing but his bracelet and necklace. 

There was a lot of similarities between the two, but you didn’t really think too much of it. Your ex was the same with his obsession with Andy Biersack, even copying a few of his tattoos, so owning the same jewellery wasn’t too worrying… right?

But you also couldn’t look away because of his stage presence. Holy fuck. 

Even without seeing his face, you could guess he was pretty under that mask. And some of the things he did had you biting your lip, the off mic screams, punching the air, his confidence up there… it was just so hot.

You even sent Noah another quick video.

You: it’s bad omens time!! :) [1 VIDEO ATTACHED]

“Girl get off your phone!” Kylie yelled, grabbing your arm.

You tucked it back into your pocket, and just let yourself enjoy the show. 

They played a couple more songs, and you noticed the lead singer doesn’t talk much, he just kept kinda shouting to the crowd. You giggled at his dancing during V.A.N., and when it showed him on the big screen and you saw the bracelet around his wrist again, you didn’t let yourself think too hard about it... you didn't want to stress yourself out tonight. You wanted to have fun.

Once another song finished, the guys walked off stage and all the lights went out. A few moments later, Jolly stepped onto the stage, and began to play the intro to the next song…

“Oh my god, artificial suicide!” You grinned, “This one of my favourites!” 

“James likes this one too- where the fuck is he?!”

Folio reappeared at the drums, and Nick came back on stage too, both beginning to play their parts… but the masked guy was still nowhere to be seen, until…

Noah waited backstage for his cue to go back on, his heart pounding in his chest. He tried to calm himself down, taking a sip of water, but even that made him feel sick. He tried to convince himself the nerves was adrenaline, but he knew better...

He was kinda terrified. By the end of this song you’d surely know. Everyone in the crowd knew what happens at the end of artificial- he pulls the mask off, everyone cheers, he walks off and comes back on without it. . 

So he flipped the switch. He adjusted his in ears and pulled the mask back on, taking one last deep breath, his head tilted back, saying a little prayer. 

“Please, forgive me.” 

Then, he pulled his hood back up and walked out. 

“ROCKFEST!!” The masked guy growled, “FUCK. IT. UP.”

You felt goosebumps all over as he growled again, and started dancing around on stage again. You couldn’t stop the grin spreading across your face as you watched the big screen. You weren’t too far from the stage, you could just about see them, but you got a much better view watching the screens. 

“SOAKED IN THE NEON GLOWS-”

You screamed along with Kylie, bouncing up and down from where you stood, but then you had a thought- you should send this one to Noah too!

You pulled your phone back out, tapped on your camera and started recording again. 

You didn’t catch how Kylie’s brows furrowed as she stared at the screen, or how she slowly stilled.

Because the masked guy only had one glove on… on his left hand.

And right now he was holding the mic with the right, and as he popped up on the screen she squinted, trying so hard to see what he had tattooed on his hand… It looked very familiar. 

The song was coming to an end, it was like time slowed down. Kylie glanced over at you, you were bobbing along to the song, your eyes glued to your phone as you sent the video to Noah. But as she looked back up at the screen, something else clicked. 

His eyes looked familiar, even through the mask. 

But this couldn’t be… could it?

She chewed on her lip, feeling her stomach sink with the realisation.

And you were stood right there beside her, completely oblivious to it. 

But everything started to add up. You said you hadn’t heard from Noah all day, he works away a lot in other countries, he won’t tell you what his job is…

It couldn’t be. 

“What is it?” You asked, noticing how she was staring harder than usual.

“Nothing.” She said, swallowing hard, feeling her heart race along with the drums as they sped up.

“CAN YOU HEAR ME THROUGH THE WHITE NOISE?”

Silence. 

The guy turned around, facing away from the crowd, and Kylie watched as he lifted one arm into the air. 

He reached for the top of the mask, grasping before he tugged at it. 

And in one motion, it came off. 

She didn’t see his face, but she saw his hair. She watched the guys brown hair fall into place. And that was enough. 

Because now she knew. 

“Ow!” You flinched, pulling your arm back. Kylie had reached for you instinctively, clutching your arm in a moment of panic. 

She watched him walk off the stage, and her stomach sank even further. She didn’t even see his face, it was just the back of his head, but it was enough to recognise him... Enough to know the truth. 

“Is everything okay?” You asked with a chuckle.

You didn’t see it. You didn’t see him.

You were too busy texting him. 

“Yeah…” Kylie nodded, a little breathless, “Everything’s fine. Totally… but, uh, I think we should go and find James. He’s been gone a while.”

“He’s okay,” you laughed, “Remember when we went to Germany and we lost him, and then we found him two days later and he had made a whole new friend group? He’ll be fine.” 

It was true, and he still goes to visit those friends every year around christmas time. 

But Kylie didn’t know what else to do. 

Her mind was racing, almost as fast as her heart. She wasn’t fully sure she was right, that the guy on stage was Noah, but everything added up. It was more likely than not.

And then she remembered what you had told her earlier about the bracelet, about the masked man being weirdly kind to you in the elevator, about a guy from the kickboxing class telling Noah he “couldn’t wait to see him this weekend.” 

And then he walked back out. 

His jacket swapped for a black tank top, shamelessly revealing the tattoos on his arms.

His chain around his neck, the bracelet on his wrist.

No mask this time.

Noah stepped onto the stage, mic in hand. 

Kylie’s mouth went dry. Her heart stopped beating in her chest for just a second. 

“What the hell.” She whispered under her breath.

And you were still completely unaware. You were still reading over your last few texts, wondering why Noah hadn’t replied to you all day...

You started typing another message, and briefly looked up to see what was going on. The intro to the drain was playing, Folio was doing his thing behind the drums, the guy stood on stage with his arms now on show, facing away from the crowd, no mask on. 

Thinking nothing of it, you looked back at your phone, fingers still typing-

But then you stopped. 

Wait. 

You froze.

Wait…

You went completely cold.

Did you just see that right?

Was your mind playing tricks on you?

The tattoos? The colour of his hair? The biceps…

Your brows furrowed, and you hesitated for a moment, before slowly lifitng your head back up. 

He wasn’t facing the crowd. He couldn’t just yet. 

The intro for the drain was still playing, and he held the mic in his gloved hand, his head tilted back as he tried to catch his breath. He tried to tell himself you weren’t here, he hadn’t spotted you in the crowd, nor your friends. 

Maybe it was okay, maybe it was safe. 

But he had heard his phone buzzing backstage, and he just knew the notifications were going to be from you, he just couldn’t bear to look at them. 

“Old friends, same disease…”

You swallowed hard.

The first thing you saw was the tattoos on his arms, and that was all you needed to see. 

Your heart did something it had never done before. A strange uncomfortable feeling in your chest.

Your breath caught, and you couldn’t let it go, you couldn’t breathe. 

You couldn’t fucking breathe. 

You couldn’t look. 

Kylie’s eyes weren’t on the stage at all either, they were on you. 

On the way the colour drained from your face, the way your body stiffened, your eyes widened, you were frozen on the spot like a statue. 

She said your name, but you couldn’t hear it. 

She grabbed your arm but you couldn’t feel it. 

“Noah?...” You barely whispered, your brows furrowing as you watched him on the stage.

This had to be a joke, right?

He was best friends with Matt, and Matt told you he worked for bands… Maybe he somehow organised this, right?

Right?

Because Noah, your Noah, wasn’t the lead singer of Bad Omens! That would be stupid!

You huffed out a laugh, and turned to Kylie, who looked a little confused. Then you burst out laughing, like you couldn’t control it. 

Because Noah couldn’t be a part of the band! Noah couldn’t be a singer! You’ve heard him sing before, when the two of you were in the car together, and he never sounded like that!

But then you looked back over again… and it didn’t look like he was lip syncing… and it definitely didn't seem like lip syncing when he messed up the lyrics in concrete jungle. 

You just couldn’t make sense of it... You couldn’t.

So with trembling hands, you pulled your phone back out, and searched up Bad Omens lead singer. 

When the results popped up, you felt an ice cold shock creep up your spine.

You reached for Kylie, grabbing her hand. 

Neither of you said a word, but you didn’t need to. Not when you both knew you were thinking the exact same thing. 

You slowly showed her your phone. 

Bad Omens Vocalist: Noah Sebastian

And the pictures… the pictures were him. 

Your boyfriend. 

Noah. Noah who holds your face gently in his hands so you can’t wiggle away from his kisses, Noah who makes you pancakes every Sunday morning, Noah who taught your uncoordinated ass how to kickbox. 

Noah who you met at the gym. Noah who wouldn’t tell you what his job is. Noah who travelled the world, bringing you souvenirs from every country. 

Noah who never lied to you about anything. But he had lied to you about everything...

“Are you okay?” Kylie asked, her voice shaky as her eyes searched yours. 

“Uh… I don’t know.” You said slowly, almost trancelike. Because it hadn’t sunk in yet. 

Maybe this was all a dream. Maybe you fainted in the elevator, or maybe you actually died in there and woke up in some strange kind of hell.

“That bastard.” Kylie said, swallowing back the lump in her throat as she shook her head, “He… he didn’t tell you…”

“No.. I had no idea…” You shook your head. “What kind of sick joke is this... Cause what do I- How do- What am I supposed to do?”

As Kylie opened her mouth, probably about to say something wise, you heard your name being shouted behind you.

As you turned you saw arms waving frantically, and when he was close enough, you spotted James sprinting through the crowd, not caring who he shoved, not even caring as he almost tripped over his laces. 

“ITS HIM!!! HOT GYM GUY!! HE’S THE HOT MASKED GUY TOO!!!”

James yelled it like a town crier announcing the second coming of christ. His voice even rose above the music and the screaming fans, drawing far more attention than necessary, and now several heads were turning your way. He shoved a teenager out of the way with a “SORRY MAN!” and skidded to a halt in front of you and Kylie, panting and wide eyed.

It was like a stupid movie scene.

“You… You’re… You’re dating HIM!” he shrieked, pointing violently toward the stage. “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! THAT’S YOUR BOYFRIEND?!”

“…Apparently?” You blinked, still stunned. 

Kylie grabbed James’s arm and tried to steady him.

“James, calm down-”

“CALM DOWN?!” he shrieked. “KYLIE. THAT MAN WROTE THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND. HAVE YOU HEARD THOSE FUCKING LYRICS?? HAVE YOU SEEN THE WAY HE’S MOVING UP THERE??”

“Can we not do this here? Please?” You groaned, dragging a hand over your face. 

James ignored you entirely, gripping both your shoulders now, eyes wide and wild. 

“You said he was quiet and mysterious! You said he drank tea! YOU DIDN’T SAY HE WAS A WHOLE GODDAMN ROCKSTAR!??”

You tried to pull away from him. 

“You thought I knew?!” You scoffed, feeling insulted, “James, I just found out too. He never fucking told me!” 

James slowly let go of your shoulders, blinked once, then twice, tilting his head. 

“...Noah’s been lying to you?”

“Lying to me?” You scoffed, "He's been hiding this from me. He told me he was at home, he told me he- Fuck, if he can lie about something like this, what else is capable of?"

Kylie stepped in now before you could get too hysterical, her voice as calm as possible, like she was trying to hold you together. 

“Do you want to leave?” She asked, gently reaching for your hand. 

Your eyes darted back to the stage, where Noah had his head bowed again, the song had just came to an end, and you watched as he slowly descended to the floor, kneeling down with his head against the mic stand. 

You swallowed hard. You didn’t know how to process this. It didn't feel real... You didn’t know if you ever really would. 

Because how could you? He has kept this side of himself a secret since the day you met, he told you himself that he was a fan of the band. 

And never once did he fucking think to tell you he was their lead singer?

“Yeah. I don’t even want to stay here tonight, Ky... I want to go home.” 

Kylie smiled softly, nodding her head before throwing an evil glare at the stage, as if Noah could even see from here. 

“Can I stay?” James asked, “I kinda wanna see if they play just pretend-”

“James!” Kylie hissed, “Your best friend has just had her heart ripped out and you wanna stay to hear her stupid liar boyfriend sing that song?! Please!” 

He bowed his head like a scolded puppy, and followed on behind you two

…

Noah had to keep going. He had to keep singing, keep performing. He knew you were out there somewhere, if you hadn’t left the second you saw his face. 

He couldn’t be Noah right now. Like earlier, in the elevator, he was in work mode. He couldn’t stop the show just to find you, as much as he wanted to, because he couldn’t do that to the guys and all the fans. 

So he kept going, kept moving along to the beat, singing into the mic…

But then he saw something, or someone…

Someone running through the crowd, pushing through fast with their arms in the air. 

James. 

His eyes followed him through the crowd, until he came to a stop.

Until he stopped by you. 

Panic hit him in the chest a s hard as Folio’s kick drum. He snapped his head toward the side of the stage, mind racing, hands gripping the mic tighter than necessary. He tried to sing again, but the lyrics got stuck in his throat.

When he glanced back over, he saw how you were frozen, it didn't even look like you were blinking.

Kylie was saying something to you, trying to shield you from him like he was something vile. Like he’d done something monstrous.

And maybe he had…

Because you had done nothing but love him, let him into your life, your world. And what has he done? Lied the entire time.

He knew he should’ve told you in the beginning, or at least before it got this far. He tried, but not hard enough. 

He’d been selfish. 

And now he’s broken the heart of the only girl who’d ever really loved him, and he knew you'd be stupid to ever forgive him.

…

You didn’t remember much of the drive home, only that you silently cried the whole way. 

You were sat in the backseat, your forehead pressed to the window as the streetlights blurred past in streaks of gold. You let the sound of Kylie’s gentle voice and James’ singing become white noise, you blocked it out and all you could hear was the ringing in your ears, and the sound of Noah’s voice, like he was haunting you. 

You thought back on everything. Everything. The way he'd flinch when you brought up his job, the way he looked like he was having a heart attack when you started singing one of his songs, the way he would have to almost dress in disguise in public.

You managed to stay reasonably held together, until you stepped through your front door. Then it all came crashing down. 

Your knees almost buckled the moment you walked in. You didn’t even bother turning on the lights, you didn’t need to see the place. You knew it too well. Every corner of it was covered in him. The stupid half finished mug of tea in the sink. The smell of his cologne on the couch cushion you curled into when he held you here. The hoodie he left on the back of one of the kitchen chairs like he’d come back for it.

You dropped your keys and sank to the floor, and the sob you let out wasn’t quiet this time. 

“Shit,” James said behind you. “Shit, shit- Okay, she’s really crying now-”

“I’ve been crying!” You snapped, your voice cracking through your sobs. “I’ve been crying since the fucking second we got in the car, James!”

He instantly shut up, and let Kylie move first. She knelt beside you and pulled you into her chest without a word, and you let her. 

You didn’t want to pretend to be brave tonight. You didn’t want to pretend this didn’t feel like the biggest betrayal of your life… because it was.

You weren’t even sure if it was the lying or the way he let you fall for someone that didn’t really exist that hurt more. The quiet, mysterious gym guy. The man who kissed your hands and whispered that you were the best thing to happen to him. The guy who’d wiped your tears and told you he never wanted to hurt you.

It was him… but it wasn’t. You knew Noah, you slept beside him, cuddled with him, let him see you at your most vulnerable…

But that man on stage? You didn’t know him. You’ve never met him. It was like seeing a stranger in his skin. The way he carried himself, the way he screamed on stage, the way he conducted the crowd… you’ve never seen Noah like that before. He’s never once raised his voice at you, and his job is to fucking scream into a mic?

The man on stage was a stranger.  

“I’m sorry,” you choked, wiping your face with the sleeve of James’s jacket he let wear in the car. “I’m sorry, I know I’m being dramatic, but I just… I can’t go to bed. I can’t.”

Kylie shifted, brushing the hair from your face. 

“Do you want us to stay?”

You nodded immediately, desperately. 

“Please. I just… I can’t be alone in there. Not tonight.”

James’ face softened, a rare occasion, and he crouched down beside you, his hand resting on your knee. 

“Did you really think we’d leave you like this?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

Because you couldn’t stop thinking about how the last time you’d been in your bed, Noah had been there too. His arm tucked under your pillow, his fingers running down your spine. His lips pressed to your neck like he didn’t want to leave.

And now you couldn’t imagine laying down in there without feeling the ghost of him next to you.

You were scared of what would happen if you closed your eyes.

So instead, you let Kylie help you to your feet. You kicked your shoes off, left James' jacket in a heap on the floor, and didn’t even try to wipe the tears anymore. James was already dragging the spare blankets out of the cupboard, and Kylie grabbed some pillows.

“C’mon,” James grinned, “You didn’t want to sleep in your bed alone, you can sleep with both of us!” 

“We won’t all fit!” You giggled through your tears. 

And for a few brief seconds, the pain in your chest dulled. Not because it was gone or it faded, or because you were over it. 

But because your friends refused to let you go through this alone.

…

It was the early hours of the morning, and Noah hadn’t slept. He stayed sat on the edge of the hotel bed, elbows resting on his knees, head hanging low. He’s been in this position for hours, replaying everything, regretting everything. The dim glow of the bedside lamp barely lit the room, but that didn’t bother him. He was looking at his phone, where your message still sat, unreplied to. 

You: these guys are so cool!! i wish you were here to see them, but i’ll show you all my videos when i’m home! i miss you <3

It was sent hours ago, he hadn’t replied, and you haven’t said anything either. 

He swallowed hard, his jaw clenched tight as he rubbed his hands down his face before dragging them through his hair. The silence in the room was so loud it almost made him sick. It hadn’t been quiet like this in… he didn’t even know how long. Nicholas was meant to be rooming with him, but his girlfriend had flown in at the last minute, and of course he’d rather stay with her, so Noah waved him off with a tight smile and said he didn’t mind.

But he did mind.

Because now he was alone with nothing but his mind for company.

The high of the show had worn off even before he walked off stage. He tried to prepare himself for this, knowing it this would be the likely outcome, but nothing could’ve prepared him for how empty he's actually feel. How alone. 

God, his chest fucking hurt.

You loved Bad Omens. And he never told you it was him... Not even after months of talking, of getting so close he memorised every freckle on your body. He’d been so close to telling you so many times.

But he didn’t.

And now he’d fucked it all.

But he should’ve expected that from the first moment. Because when does anything ever really go right for him?

The pillow behind him was cold, untouched. The bed felt far too big, even for him. He hadn’t even bothered pulling the covers down. He just sat there, staring at your name on his phone, thumb hovering over the screen. He typed out messages and deleted them. Again. And again. And again.

“I’m so sorry.” “I should’ve told you.” “I tried so many times but…” “I didn't want to lie, I just didn’t know how to say it.” “Baby? Please say something.” “I miss you.” “I know I fucked up, but I promise I can explain it all. I love you.” 

But he sent none of them.

You probably didn’t want to hear from him. Not now. Maybe not ever. And the thought of that made him press his fist to his mouth just to keep from making a sound. His eyes burned, there was a lump in his throat. You were the first person he wanted to call after every show. The one he wanted to crawl into bed with after it all. The one who got him through it all. You were his home, the one place in the world he felt he could be himself, be vulnerable. After years of stress, of building the band, of touring the world and never taking a break, that was all he knew- then you came along and he finally let himself… relax. He let himself feel everything he’d been afraid of for years.

And now you were gone. And it was all his fault.

He turned his phone face down on the nightstand, then reached for the one of the shirts he packed in his bag, one you had borrowed and only gave back to him a few days ago... and it still smelled like you. 

He held it to his chest like a fucking lifeline, lying back against the pillows and blinking up at the ceiling.

This was the longest he’d gone without hearing from you since the night he became yours, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could go.

But he would. He would wait forever if that’s what you needed, even if it was killing him already. 

…

The three of you were squished up in your bed like sardines… James was starfished right in the middle, taking up almost all the space. Kylie curled up on the left side, and you lay on your right, eyes puffy and sore, and throat feeling a little raw from the hours of crying. The pillows still smelled like him. The mattress still remembered his weight.

The room was quiet for a moment. Kylie was trying to sleep, and so were you- though you were afraid of what your dreams might bring tonight. James was still awake, though, the glow of his phone lighting up his face as he bit his lip. 

Then, you heard an edit audio...

And as you looked over, there was Noah’s face. Flashing in different lightings, different angles. Shots from the stage. His mask. His smirk. His goddamn hands on the mic stand. 

"James," Kylie groaned. "Seriously?"

"What?! I’m grieving too!" James exclaimed. "I can’t believe you were fucking him. He’s so goddamn hot. Like I know we already thought so but have you seen how he looks on stage?! Girl-"

“I wasn’t just fucking him, James, he was my boyfriend, remember?!!” 

Your voice had cracked when you said it.

He was my boyfriend. You didn’t even mean to say it like that, in the past tense. It kinda just slipped out. 

And suddenly it made everything hurt again. 

Because you and Noah weren’t just a situationship, or some extended fling. He was your boyfriend. You’d spent nights tangled together. You’d let him see the softest and darkest parts of you. You’d made him coffee in the morning and fallen asleep on the phone when he was away. You’d kissed him until your lips were raw and let him whisper things in your ear he never told anyone else.

But how much of that mattered to him, if he didn’t tell you one simple thing. 

He was in a band. 

James slowly locked his phone, setting it down on the bed. 

“...Shit, yeah,” he said softly, the humour gone from his tone now. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t answer. Your chest ached too much to say anything. You stared up at the ceiling, blinking away the sting behind your eyes, hoping you wouldn’t start crying again.

Kylie shifted beside James, propping herself up on one elbow. 

“Has he texted you at all since the show?” She asked gently.

You shook your head.

“Has he even tried to explain?” James asked.

Another shake, and Kylie scoffed. 

“Fuck him,” she muttered. “Honestly, fuck him. What kind of person hides something this big? Pretends to be someone else for months just to… what? Keep you around without being honest? Did he think he could just lie about it forever? That’s not love, babe. Block his fucking number.”

You swallowed, your throat feeling tight.

You wanted to believe she was right. Wanted to believe that what he did was unforgivable. That the silence now was proof he didn’t really care, that he never did. 

But that wasn’t true.

Because he did care…

You felt it in the way he kissed you. In the way he held your hand when you were nervous. In the way he always made time, no matter how busy his day was. How he was so soft with you even when he thought you were asleep, how he would tell you he loves you even when he thought you couldn’t hear. 

Ever since you were younger, you dreamed of finding real love, the kind you read about in stories, or watched unfold in movies. All the adults in your life told you it was it wasn’t real, that you just had to settle for someone who gave the bare minimum, someone who you resented a little but could spend the rest of your life just coping with. But Noah had proved them wrong. 

He was your prince charming, he came along at just the right time, and he showed you that love could be real… or so you thought.

“I can’t block him.” You whispered.

Kylie exhaled sharply through her nose. 

“Why not?”

“Because,” you said, voice trembling as your eyes finally brimmed over with tears again, “Because I still love him… You think I can just stop something like this?”

James gave you a loft look, then reached over and grabbed your hand.

“You can’t just forgive him for this though.” He frowned, “Especially if he hasn’t even checked on you after everything… He knows you were there tonight, you were sending him videos from his band’s set.”

That was true. Very true. 

“So why hasn’t he texted?” You asked, your voice small, “If he loves me… If I meant anything to him… Why is he being silent now?”

You heard Kylie sigh heavily, and then you saw her head pop up over James' shoulder.

"Look, I'm not happy with him right now but I know you love him, and despite everything we've found out tonight, I know he loves you too. But at the end of the day, honey, he's a fucking guy! He's done something wrong, he knows he's done something wrong, and he probably just doesn't want to face it right now. Sleep on it, see how you feel in the morning, but don't you dare text him first... If he wants to make things right, he'll try, but if he doesn't, then..." she sighed, "Then you're done with him."

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

i can't believe we're coming to the end of this series soon... i'm thinking maybe 4 more chapters and it'll be over :( but i have SO many different povs and scenarios in my inbox to write for this story so it won't really be the end any time soon!

(also that's why i left such a big time gap between the last chapter and this one... so i could write more things for them while she still doesn't know who he is <3) (i'm tired i don't know if that makes any sense lmao)

@dragoncopper @renegadebirch @super-btstrash-posts @pipidoll @xslavicprincess @foliosgirl @h4tef6ck @jesuisunchaton @saythatuwill @astronoids @missduffsblog @montgomery-929496 @lonelydragonlady @happyclifford @popularpopularmonster @bluehairpunklol @bruce9818 @itsyaboinoah @mayaslifeinabox @lonesomegrace @dominuslunae @lacy1986 @jesuisunchaton @overmydeadbodysblog @kenjipepsi1 @onlyethereal @theright-wrongway @geminigirlfromfinland @miss570 @trvshdxddy @spookieolson @sugaruapologist @latenightmusiclover @eversiinceny @shuiguans @lyschko666 @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @flowery-mess @pathion @bladeupnred @urafakebetch @mycheersricochet @moostress19 @nojoyontheburn @carrieontillmay @mymindsnotebook @eclipseeetop @8fingerscrossed @im-the-fucking-king @sunkmyteethin @todressabladeupinred

[envihellbender]

Could I request some Lonely!Jon?

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Characters: Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood

Summary: John has been lost in the Lonely, and only Martin can bringing him back.

—

After walking in the fog for what felt like hours, Martin finally found it. His chest heaved, his body was soaked with sweat, and his joints ached, but he kept putting one foot in front of the other. As much as he wanted to fall to his knees, he had to keep going. After empty beaches, lighthouses, and forests, he’d finally found a large, desolate looking manor. The windows were all black - it wasn’t clear if it was through darkness or to cover them up - and the brick was a dull grey. Martin felt as if his body had become triple its weight, as he put one foot on the front steps, and kept pushing himself upwards. Those three stairs felt as if he’d pushed himself up a whole flight. Finally, he got to the door. The cold brass knob on the door was damp, making it difficult to grip, but when he covered his hand with his jumper and turned it he almost stumbled at how little resistance there was. When he entered the hall, he blinked quickly - thrown by how colourful the inside was.

So far, everything in the lonely had been dank, lifeless, and empty. This house was… Different. The walls had scenes painted on them, on the right there was a workman fixing a grandfather clock, on the left was five children chasing each other. On the far wall was a door frame looking out into the kitchen. Martin expected warmth and noise from the appearance but he received the opposite. There was colour but no life, and it took a moment to realise but the faces his brain had almost filled in weren’t there. The children had no features, neither did the workman. The house was brutally silent, he couldn’t even hear the false wind from outside.

“John?” Martin called. He took a few tentative footsteps forward, his voice didn’t echo through the house. It felt as if he’d thrown noise into the world only for it to falter and not travel anywhere. All that was there was silence. Oppressive, gigantic, silence. “John?” He repeated as he entered the kitchen. Or what the paintings said was a kitchen. There were no units or furniture, they were all painted on the walls. By the image of a stove was a stern looking older woman with grey tight curls and a familiar looking frown. He shook himself and looked again, there was no frown, of course there wasn’t.

Martin turned away to see in the far corner, something he’d almost missed as a painting itself, a small, fragile man sat cross legged on the floor, his hair hanging in his face. “John!” He exclaimed in relief. This one John finally seemed to hear, he looked up with a blank, distant expression. His eyes were half lidded and unfocused, he frowned a little as he took in Martin’s appearance.

“Who… are you? Did grandmother invite you here?” John asked, his voice small and far younger than his appearance suggested.

“Your grandmother?” Martin asked, he swallowed around a knot in his throat, trying to make the stabbing pain in his chest from how much not being recognised ached.

“Yes. She’s cooking right now. But I’m sure she’ll see you in a moment.” There was something off about John’s voice, it was younger, but also so formal.

“John. Where are we?” Martin desperately did not let his pain seep through into his eyes and voice. Instead he tried to stay grounded, John needed him not to fall apart right now.

“We’re… at my house?” John looked at Martin with a look of alarm and concern. “Are you alright?”

“And thats your grandmother? Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.”

“But her face-”

“She’s just angry. She’s always angry.”

“It’s just… Does anything seem strange to you?” As Martin said this, John looked over Martin’s shoulder, who followed his gaze. The woman by the stove had moved slightly, using a frying pan now, but her face just as blank and she was still utterly silent.

“Like what?”

“Well, has she said anything to you?”

“No. She never does. She’s punishing me for something. She’s always silent when she’s angry.” No matter how fake this scenario was, John thought it was real. And hearing such pain coming from his heart made Martin’s own chest feel as if his rib cage was stabbing through his skin.

“Who else is in this house?” Martin asked, pushing through the hurt all the same.

“The children from next door. Mister Preston has come to fix the clock.”

“Have they said anything to you?”

“No one talks to me. I’m annoying. I just bother them.”

“I’m talking to you.”

“Yes. That’s what’s so strange. Wait…” John’s brow furrowed for a moment, a slight hint of colour in his face for just a second before it left again. “Who are you?”

“I’m Martin.”

“Martin. Martin. I’ve never heard any-” Martin’s breath stopped for a moment as he heard John say his name as he always had. John stopped talking and his eye widened. “Wait. Yes I have. I know that-” The recognition left. “No, I don’t.”

“John,” Martin began, his tears filling his throat. He struggled down onto his knees, he forced himself to look John in the eye no matter how painful. “John. You do- you do know me. Try- try to think about how you got here.”

“I… I’ve always been here,” John answered but less certain this time.

“No. No you haven’t.”

“I- I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

“I- I know.” Martin reached into his pocket and relaxed when his fingers touched a tape recorder. The spiders always watched out for him. He took it out and hit play, a statement Martin was taking - it was slow and harrowing and John stared at it baffled by what was happening. Finally however, it happened. Martin’s voice was interrupted by a knock, and in came John’s voice. The spoke a little, it was … Friendly, almost. It had been a year ago, before things got too difficult.

“That’s me,” John finally said in a small voice. He cleared his throat. “That’s me,” he repeated voice stronger and firmer. “You… I… I know you. I know you.”

“I know. I know.” Martin finally let the tears fall down his face as John got onto his knees and wrapped his arms around Martin’s body. He clung to him tightly, terrified that he was just going to turn into fog. Just as it felt the illusion was breaking, there was a click behind them, similar to the sound of a stove turning off. The first sound this house had made, followed by footsteps. “What… what’s that?”

“Grandmother- No. Not… That- that thing. It’s angry. We need to leave. Now.” John and Martin both clumsily rose to their feet, and when he caught a glimpse behind his shoulder he saw that the figure was barely an inch from his face. The thing’s face wasn’t blank anymore. Now it was made of dense fog, it was no longer silent but roared like the fake wind outside.

[kellykadesperate]

51. “Why did you have to fall in love with me?”

more of the prison au but it's sad lol

Robert tries to move as quietly as he can but Aaron’s watching everything he’s doing like a hawk. Robert’s started to tidy their cell, all eight square feet of it. He hesitates when he turns and looks at the pictures Aaron has up.

There’s one of Liv. Robert thinks about the fact that he hasn’t met her, but knows her. There’s another picture of Aaron and his best friend Adam. Apparently he’s a right laugh. Robert wants to find out. He wants to be sat in a booth in a pub, arm over the back of Aaron’s chair and a promise of something later, laughing at something daft Adam has said. Robert stares at the picture until Aaron has a hand on his back, then he runs it up and down Robert’s back. 

“Can you stop doing that.” Aaron says, and he sounds so moody. Robert can’t help but find it stupidly endearing. 

Robert turns and wants to kiss Aaron so badly. Their cell door is open right now, blokes walking up and doing and talking about nothing at all in their loud stupid voices. He can’t kiss Aaron. Instead, he leans right against the wall and pulls a hand over his chest. 

It’s a special little language thing of theirs.

Robert taps the left side of his chest with his finger and Aaron smiles at him for a second before he’s back to telling Robert off again, or trying to at least.

“I’m not going for weeks.” Aaron says, and there’s tears in his eyes straight away. He clears his throat to hold himself together and Robert tries his best not to react to it all.

The truth is, Aaron’s getting out of here soon and Robert isn’t. Robert has years and years to go and Aaron just doesn’t. 

“I’m just tidying.” Robert whispers.

“You’re –” Aaron bites his lip and doesn’t say anything. Instead he does something that he very rarely does, he leaves their cell and leaves Robert alone. 

Robert doesn’t say Aaron until after tea time. They sit together like always but eat in silence and Robert realises that they’ve had an argument without even speaking. It’s been there for a few months now, bubbling right under the surface.

Aaron has served his time. He’s able to leave, start a new life, get to do all the things he hasn’t been able to for the last three years. Aaron doesn’t want to talk about it though, he’s in complete denial like if he just pretends it isn’t happening, it won’t.

Robert has to think about it. He hasn’t thought of anything else. 

Aaron finally speaks in the dead of night. They’re sleeping in Robert’s bed. Aaron’s hands are on Robert’s chest, legs wrapped around him close. 

“Why did you have to fall in love with me?” Aaron whispers quietly.

Robert feels light headed, his heart thumps hard hard hard in his chest and he’s sure that Aaron can feel it under his palms. He doesn’t know what to say for a second and then he hears Aaron crying, almost to himself.

“Aaron …” Robert brings his arms over Aaron’s body, holds him even closer like he’s going to lose him if he doesn’t.

He is though. Robert’s going to lose him. 

“It would have been – been better if I just loved you. Just me. If it was all a stupid one-sided thing.�� Aaron hitches his breath and then looks back at Robert. Robert feels his heart thud harder at the sight of Aaron’s shiny blue eyes. “Should never have reached out for your hand that day.”

Robert leans his forehead down onto Aaron’s and breathes him in. “Loving you is the best thing I’ve ever done. I’ll have you know.” He says, voice thick with all this emotion.

He doesn’t really need to think about it for too long. Meeting Aaron’s the best thing to ever happen to him. 

“Don’t say that.” Aaron says, to punish himself or something.

Robert can’t let him do that. “It’s easy, loving you.” He says. “You’re fit as.” He smiles when Aaron laughs against him. “You’re kind, you protect me, let me tidy this place up every five minutes.” Aaron laughs again. Robert’s going to miss that sound so much it’s terrifying.

“I’m going to visit you. Every week.” Aaron says. “You know that right?”

Robert wasn’t confident of that. Now he feels like it’s a bad idea. Eventually Aaron will get snapped up, he’ll settle into something good with someone and Robert will get in the way of that. 

Robert doesn’t know how he’s meant to convey any of that without crying or freaking Aaron out. 

“I love you.” Robert says. “I don’t regret doing that.” He laughs. “I didn’t really have a choice.” He realises. “It just happened.” 

Robert feels Aaron squeeze their bodies closer together. 

He thinks about how many more nights they’ll have like this. 

“I love you more.” Aaron says, like that’s possible. He’s never said that before. 

“Impossible.”

“Shut up.” Aaron says. Then he looks up at the ceiling. “I could beat someone up in here. Someone who deserves it.”

Robert thinks Aaron’s mad. “Don’t say stupid things.”

“It’s not stupid if it means longer in here. With you.” Aaron says. 

Robert hasn’t ever had someone love him like Aaron loves him. It’s overwhelming, probably a little unhealthy to someone else, but it’s them. It’s them against everyone else. 

“Please don’t do anything like that.” Robert whispers, and then he kisses Aaron’s head like he’s precious. 

Aaron doesn’t promise anything. 

[respectfulrebel]

If you guys read one thing today, let it be this! You won’t regret it 😭 This is the most indulgent piece of literature I’ve read in a while. Just 6k words of pure unfiltered brain-melting excellence 🫠🫠🫠

That's how you find yourself here, with your shared exception-though Noah could easily be the exception for anyone.

Yes, he is the exception 🤭🤭

"Oh, you are a big boy," she murmurs, and Noah just grins back at her, beaming with pride. He's never been shy when it comes to his dick— between the size of it and his ability to use it, he's always had reason to be confident.

We love a confident boy 🤭🤭

She spanks each thigh, making you yelp and squirm, your legs parting wider under her command. Her fingers trace over the front of your pretty lingerie, feeling the wetness already pooling against the fabric, then beckons Noah closer.

He sinks between your thighs with ease, his hands slipping beneath them to brace and pull you closer, while her fingers slide the fabric aside. His mouth finds you instantly, tongue dragging in one long stroke up your slit.

TEAM WORK, LOVE IT 🤭

"Give it to me," you hear him murmur, his voice low and wrecked.

oh my GOD 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

"That's just not acceptable," Noah murmurs, and just as her tongue slips into your mouth, letting you taste the blend of Noah and yourself, your legs are being spread again.

🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

"I think he should do it again." Not that you have much of a say in it now. Noah's already nestled between your thighs, and you're so sensitive it makes your eyes roll back the second his mouth makes contact, but he can't help himself.

I’m dizzy 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

He's eating you out the way he wants to now. The way he needs to, and this time, his fingers join in— slipping deep inside you with a singular goal: to coax another orgasm from you, and make you squirt all over him again.

A man on a mission 🤭🤭🤭

"Hydration time," Noah remarks, and the sound of water seems like heaven, until you're watching him drink from the bottle and pass it over you to your girlfriend, but instead of offering it to you directly, they each take a mouthful, and then Noah grips your jaw, fingers pressing gently at your cheeks to open your mouth. He leans in and slowly spills the water into your waiting mouth.

This is possibly one of the hottest things I’ve read 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

When you glance down at him, he looks like the picture of pure bliss, but your view is quickly obscured as your girlfriend moves to straddle him, sinking herself slowly toward his face. His hands fly up to grip her thighs, dragging her closer until she's settled in place, seated right against his mouth.

Your cunt presses against hers, her hips already grinding eagerly up against nothing-until you feel the slick, messy smear of Noah's cum coating your folds as it spreads between the two of you. The filthy, wet heat only makes her moan into your mouth.

SCREAMINGGGGGGGGG

He moves closer, teasing his cock along your slit, making you gasp, before slipping lower and pressing it between your girlfriend's folds instead. Slowly, his hips push forward, and he sinks into her with a low groan.

SCREAMING LOUDER 😭😭 WHATS HAPPENING

He picks up the pace, thrusting deeply, rhythmically, until you can barely keep kissing her through the sounds she's making, but then suddenly, he slips out of her, leaving her gasping, already left missing the feeling, while he's lining himself up with your entrance and plunging deep into you.

"Hold her thighs open," he instructs, and she obeys without hesitation, gripping your thighs and pulling them wide open, keeping your legs pinned back for him.

You're completely spread for him now, his cum still dripping out of you, until he pushes back in and sinks deep again, fucking you right there on top of your girlfriend, her hands locked tight around your thighs to hold you open for him.

I think this is where I finally completely lost it and died and went to heaven and came back just to tell you this 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

He can't help but feel proud of how far gone you are, and instead of letting you go, he keeps rolling his hips in a slow, deliberate rhythm. His cock drags through your fluttering walls until one more perfectly placed thrust brushes that same spot, making you squirt around him again.

IS SHE OKAY? That’s a lot of fucking orgasms Jesus fucking Christ 😳😳😳😳😳😳

"It's only fair she gets to cum too, right?" he whispers against your lips.

Then his hand sneaks down between your thighs, fingers circling your overstimulated clit while he keeps fucking her beneath you. His cock drags deeper inside her, angling just right to hit the spot that makes her cry out in those higher pitched moans. You feel her tense beneath you, her nails digging into the flesh of your thighs as she finally breaks.

His eyes go wide beneath you, filled with anticipation and excitement, his mouth slightly open and tongue out like he might catch whatever falls the moment you bite the small bit of grape she's offering.

Summary: What started as a teasing suggestion between you and your girlfriend quickly spirals into a night of pleasure you never anticipated, one where Noah becomes the centre of your shared attention and desire.

Pairing: himbo!Noah Sebastian x plus size!reader x reader's girlfriend.

CW: includes mentions of unprotected sex (p in v), double dipping (p only), partner sharing, threesome, oral (m and f receiving), importance of hydration and nutrition as demonstrated by himbo!noah, kinda food play, fingering (f receiving), multiple orgasms, squirting, overstimulation, nipple play, himbo!noah has a tongue and apa piercing, various pet names for Noah (loverboy, puppy, big boy, baby boy)

WC: 5.8k.

AN: I thank @somebodyels3 and @madamaaubergine for all of the himbo brainrot and encouragement on this, as well as @respectfulrebel for bringing me the thot which inspired this in the first place. I hope you enjoy this treat @flowery-mess 💕

Smut below the cut 🔞 Minors DNI.

Noah’s convinced he’s died and gone to heaven, faced with the vision of two goddesses staring back at him—each dressed in your own set of lingerie, designed to accentuate every curve and drive him to the brink. His fingers are already clenched in the bedsheets, as if gripping them is the only thing keeping him grounded, the only thing stopping him from pouncing like a starved animal.

Rolls, stretch marks, plush softness—he wants to memorize every bit of it. Trace each inch with his inked hands, his lips following close behind. Leave reverent kisses down the valleys of your stomachs, along the curves of your hips, over thighs that could easily pull him in and keep him there forever, and god, the way he aches to be squashed between the sets of breasts, each one lifted and presented like an offering by the cups that cradle them.

Never could Noah have imagined being this lucky, nor could you have guessed that it would all stem from a late night pillow talk with your girlfriend just a few months ago.

“Noah, really?” Your brow quirks, and the corner of your mouth pulls into a small smirk.

She huffs and aims her foot toward you as you sit at opposite ends of the couch, facing one another.

“Are you telling me you haven’t thought about him like that?”

You catch her foot just in time, holding onto her ankle and lifting it to press a kiss against the bone before moving up her calf. You shrug—it’s not a yes or a no, but the way your face flushes gives you away instantly.

“Oh my god, you have.”

“No, I’ve never—”

“How many times?”

“What?”

“How many times have you fantasized about fucking Noah?”

“I—…” Your face grows completely warm before you duck away, giggling as you feel her shifting on the couch, instantly moving to hover over you.

“Well, if we both have the same… idea, what if we… ask?” She tilts her head, peering down at you, wiggling her brows as a conspiratorial grin spreads across her face.

That’s how you find yourself here, with your shared exception—though Noah could easily be the exception for anyone. There’s just something about his charm that draws people in, makes them fawn after him, and now, here you are, giving him the opportunity he might’ve only imagined in his wildest dreams.

“What’s wrong, lover boy? Cat got your tongue?” your girlfriend teases with a playful grin.

“Nah, he’s drooling too much for that,” you quip back quickly.

You catch the bob of his tatted Adam’s apple as he swallows, and he shakes his head, even reaching up to check that he wasn’t visibly drooling.

“No, you both just look… oh, wow,” he breathes out, sounding completely dazed, his eyes wide and flicking back and forth like he doesn’t know where to look, like he can’t bear to take his gaze off either of you.

“Come here, big boy.” You raise your hand, beckoning him toward you, and he practically leaps from his spot on the bed, barely coordinated, as he scrambles to the edge, settling on all fours to look up at you both.

“God, he’s like an eager puppy,” your girlfriend remarks, reaching out to tangle her fingers in his hair, dragging them back through the strands. “Doesn’t it just make you want to stick a collar on him? Turn him into your good boy?”

It’s a fleeting comment, but one that sends a thrill through Noah, the idea of being your shared pet igniting something hot and eager inside him. He even attempts to flash his best puppy eyes up at the two of you, desperate and willing.

While her fingers drag through his hair, your own hand reaches out, fingers pressing beneath his chin and gliding up along his cheek. He leans into the touch eagerly, pressing into your palm as if starved for affection, practically preening under the soft attention you’re both giving him.

Then you’re leaning down and catching him in a heated kiss, one he instinctively groans into, especially as your tongue snakes into his mouth and brushes against the cool metal of his tongue piercing, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Oh, that’s a good boy…” comes your girlfriend’s breathy praise as Noah rises onto his knees, hands reaching out—one settling at the curve of your hip, fingers digging into the plush flesh to both ground himself and pull you closer, while the other travels along your girlfriend’s thick thigh, caressing her skin before sliding up over her ass.

The touch earns him a sharp tug of his hair, and he grunts into the kiss, teeth catching on your lower lip just before you pull away.

“Fuck…” he breathes out, entirely undone, and when he looks back at the two of you, pupils blown wide, heavy with lust, all he can think is; you’re both about to devour him.

“On the bed, you.” Your girlfriend gives your ass a playfully harsh spank that makes you yelp and smirk, quickly crawling up onto the bed. You move further back until you turn around to look at them both.

“Now, why don’t you show us…” Her voice trails off as she leans in, gliding a hand down Noah’s bare chest and stomach until she presses it over his boxers, feeling the full thickness of his already hard cock through the fabric.

“Oh, you are a big boy,” she murmurs, and Noah just grins back at her, beaming with pride. He’s never been shy when it comes to his dick—between the size of it and his ability to use it, he’s always had reason to be confident.

“You’re going to have to get her nice and wet if you want to fuck her,” she breathes against his jaw, lips teasing his skin. He lets out a needy, near whining “please,” like there’s nothing in the world he wants more than to taste you.

Releasing him, she nudges him toward the bed and shifts herself to follow, coming up to settle beside you before shuffling in behind you against the pillows, her legs on either side, caging you in comfortably between her thighs.

“Spread them nice and wide now, baby,” she whispers into your ear, catching the shell between her teeth and making you gasp as your thighs open for Noah, who’s already knelt on the bed, gazing up with raw hunger in his eyes.

She spanks each thigh, making you yelp and squirm, your legs parting wider under her command. Her fingers trace over the front of your pretty lingerie, feeling the wetness already pooling against the fabric, then beckons Noah closer.

He sinks between your thighs with ease, his hands slipping beneath them to brace and pull you closer, while her fingers slide the fabric aside. His mouth finds you instantly, tongue dragging in one long stroke up your slit.

The sensation makes you arch into him, head falling back against your girlfriend’s shoulder as she dips to press kisses along the column of your neck. Your body quickly grows hot beneath the layers of touch.

His mouth and tongue work you in eager, practiced strokes, drawing out breathy whines, until you suddenly gasp, feeling him pull away.

“Calm down, pretty boy. That’s not how she likes it, is it, baby? You like it slower.” Her fingers comb back through Noah’s hair, tugging gently to pull him back just enough to guide him, and it draws a groan from deep in his throat.

He can’t resist looking up, and behind you, you hear your girlfriend gasp, her teeth grazing your ear as she leans in and whispers, “Open your eyes, baby. Look at how pretty he looks down between your thighs. I bet he’s been dreaming about this just as much as I have.”

She purrs the words, and they send a visible shiver through you.

Truthfully, you’ve allowed yourself the silent indulgence of fantasizing about another, and while you never would’ve admitted it before now, the faceless man in those fantasies often morphed into Noah.

From this angle, he’s a sight to behold—desperate hunger still burning in his blown pupils, like all he wants is to worship you. His tongue follows the slow, deliberate guidance of your girlfriend, but his eyes remain fixed on you. Yours can barely stay open, fluttering with every roll of his tongue against your sensitive clit.

When he shuffles closer, his mouth presses more firmly, sneakily trying to return to his usual rhythm, but the sharp tug of her fingers in his hair makes him relent—at least a little.

“Slow, nice and slow…” she instructs, and he groans against you, savoring the way you melt across his tongue. His eyes flutter shut as if he’s tasting something divine, while each stroke of his tongue pulls breathy moans from your lips.

You can feel it building, that delicious heat low in your belly, the slow rise of your climax. Your girlfriend’s free hand moves across your chest, freeing your breasts from the cups that held them, cupping and squeezing each before teasing at your nipples. The stimulation draws another moan from you, and it catches Noah’s attention.

His eyes light up.

With her guidance, she draws him upward, and though his mouth moves, it doesn’t leave you untouched. He trails reverent kisses across the skin exposed by the cutouts of your lingerie, worshipping every inch, every curve. His hands slide from beneath your thighs to roam across your stomach, caressing gently, cradling you, pulling you closer as he nestles between your thighs with an almost instinctive ease.

When he finally reaches your chest, his mouth finds your nipple, lashes fluttering as he looks up at you from beneath them. His tongue swirls around the sensitive bud, and when your hand finds the back of his neck and gently urges him forward, he latches on. The pressure of his mouth makes your back arch to meet him.

“Noah…” you moan softly, your fingers curling into his hair and giving a tug.

His mouth tightens around your nipple while one hand slides back down, trailing over your stomach and between your thighs. He hooks his fingers into your underwear, tugging them down and away in one swift motion before slipping his fingers between your folds. He circles your clit slowly with his middle and ring finger before dipping lower, sliding them into your soaked cunt.

They’re long and slender, burying into you with such ease it makes you cry out. Your hips arch to meet him as he curls them inside you, making a soft ‘come hither’ motion—finding that sweet spot with practiced precision, determined to draw your orgasm out from deep within.

Even now, when your own eyes are heavy and hooded, you catch the softness still lingering in his expression, the reverence, the awe. His gaze never leaves yours. His mouth teases your nipple with tongue and teeth, and the cool press of his metal tongue piercing against the sensitive nub is almost too much.

“Give it to me,” you hear him murmur, his voice low and wrecked.

His fingers continue their slow, insistent rhythm, pumping deep while rubbing that weak spot on your inner wall—the one he’s desperate to claim. You can feel yourself tightening around him, all the telltale signs of your climax falling perfectly into place.

The moment you fall apart, you’re trembling in your girlfriend’s embrace, your body wrecked with aftershocks while Noah continues his touch, relentless in the way he pushes you through it. You barely have a chance to catch your breath, let alone come down from the high, before he’s maneuvering the both of you with surprising ease.

It’s effortless the way he moves you, lifting and rolling you both until you find yourself straddling his head, his mouth back between your thighs. His tongue lies flat and firm against your clit, guiding you through the crashing wave of your climax, coaxing the last ripples of pleasure from your body as you shudder above him.

Instinctively, your hand reaches out for the headboard to steady yourself, your other clutching at the sheets. Your girlfriend watches eagerly, one hand already slipped down the front of her panties, fingers working her clit as she watches you unravel all over again—completely at Noah’s mercy.

“Noah!” you cry out, thighs trembling around his head. He’s pushing you beyond any sensation you’ve ever experienced, and you can barely hold on, clutching at the headboard while his large hands grip your ass, keeping you firmly pressed to his mouth, your thighs crowding in around him.

You’d be worried about crushing him if it weren’t for the way he’s latched onto your clit, his mouth forming a relentless suction while his tongue flicks and teases the sensitive bundle of nerves, dragging you through your climax, and then some.

“Please, Noah…” you breathe, voice shaking. “I can’t… I’m gonna…”

You don’t even know what you’re about to say, maybe that you’re going to collapse, or melt entirely, but the pressure is building, something different stirring inside you. It feels like you might pee, and the second you try to warn him, he only pulls you closer, as if begging to be drenched in whatever you have to give.

The soft touch of your girlfriend’s hand on your body should ground you, but instead, it heightens everything. The added stimulation is enough to send you careening over the edge again, your entire body violently shaking as your thighs clamp around Noah’s head and a sudden gush escapes you, squirting directly into his mouth and across his face.

It’s only his strong hands and your girlfriend’s steadying touch that keep you upright, though you’re barely holding yourself together. Aftershocks roll through you, leaving you whimpering, hips twitching every time Noah dares another teasing lick against your overstimulated cunt—like he’s still hungry, still searching for more.

When you finally climb off him, your thighs are shaking, and you collapse back onto the bed, practically giddy. Noah just lies there, marveling at the sight of you both. It’s your girlfriend who dives in for a kiss, leaning over him and stealing the taste of you from his mouth while you float in that blissful haze, still coming down.

“That’s never… oh wow. I’ve never done that before,” you admit, a little breathless, a little embarrassed, feeling heat rush to your cheeks.

Their kiss breaks at your revelation, and Noah immediately sits up with a surprised, “Never?”

You shake your head with a soft hum, your girlfriend leaning down to kiss you, her lips gentle at first. “That’s just not acceptable,” Noah murmurs, and just as her tongue slips into your mouth, letting you taste the blend of Noah and yourself, your legs are being spread again.

It’s subtle at first, like he’s trying to sneak back between your thighs, but then he’s fully there, your girlfriend helping guide your legs open and back as she pulls away just enough to whisper against your lips: “I think he should do it again.” Not that you have much of a say in it now. Noah’s already nestled between your thighs, and you’re so sensitive it makes your eyes roll back the second his mouth makes contact, but he can’t help himself.

He dives in like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, devouring your cunt with complete abandon, making the most obscene sounds each time his tongue gathers more of your wetness and cum. He circles and rolls over your clit before his mouth closes around it again, messier this time—sloppier, hungrier.

He’s eating you out the way he wants to now. The way he needs to, and this time, his fingers join in—slipping deep inside you with a singular goal: to coax another orgasm from you, and make you squirt all over him again.

Your girlfriend coaxes him with praise, cooing down at him while she watches, leaning in to tease your nipples and kiss every inch of skin she can reach. You’re left completely at his mercy, trembling and overwhelmed, until you’re falling apart all over again.

You’re certain you blackout from the overwhelming pleasure, your forehead slick with sweat as you lay back against the pillows, your body still reeling from another orgasm coaxed out of you by Noah. He can’t seem to get enough, practically giddy as he settles beside you, your girlfriend beaming on the other side.

“Hydration time,” Noah remarks, and the sound of water seems like heaven, until you’re watching him drink from the bottle and pass it over you to your girlfriend, but instead of offering it to you directly, they each take a mouthful, and then Noah grips your jaw, fingers pressing gently at your cheeks to open your mouth. He leans in and slowly spills the water into your waiting mouth.

It’s possibly the most erotic experience you’ve ever had while sharing water. After you swallow, your girlfriend follows his lead, finishing it off with a kiss. Then they repeat the process, again and again, occasionally slipping their tongues into your mouth when they kiss you afterwards, until over half the bottle is gone between the three of you.

When you glance down, Noah’s boxers are practically soaked through with precum. Your hand rubs over the damp fabric, feeling the way he twitches beneath your touch, already so sensitive to even the slightest stimulation.

“I know what I want now.”

Your gaze locks onto him, and you lick your lips with a devious smile now that you’ve come back down to earth. Shifting on the bed, you push him back by his broad shoulders, climbing over to straddle him. You remove the top half of your lingerie, exposing every inch of yourself for him to admire. His cock throbs and aches beneath you as you slide down to straddle his thighs instead.

Gripping the waistband of his boxers, your girlfriend moves beside you. Her fingers join yours, and together you begin inching his boxers down, revealing the long, thick girth of his cock—his tip flushed red and glistening with precum.

“Oh, so big,” you breathe, marveling at the sight, your eyes widening at just the thought of how he’ll feel inside you.

“So pretty,” your girlfriend adds with a soft murmur. Her fingers trail down the prominent vein along his shaft, watching the way he twitches as she nears the sensitive tip. She dares to run a finger along the slit, more precum leaking out as she lifts her finger to her mouth and licks it clean with a satisfied hum.

“Wait… is that—?”

You both catch a glint of something else as Noah reaches down with a large hand, gripping his cock and pulling it back lightly to reveal the full extent of his apa piercing, a cocky smirk spreading across his face.

“It is,” he answers before either of you can finish the thought. With a slow stroke, he groans, pushing up toward the tip and letting you watch more precum trickle out. Before it can go to waste, your girlfriend dips down, catching it with her tongue against his shaft. His groan deepens, head falling back as she travels up to the tip, deliberately teasing her tongue around the piercing.

When she finally pulls away, she does so with a wet pop, like she’d just been sucking on a lollipop, her lips curving into a smirk.

As you raise yourself up, she reaches beneath you, tugging his boxers fully down and off. You shuffle back into place, ready to take everything he’s so desperately offering.

The plush of your thick thighs brackets him as you straddle his hips, and Noah just about groans, his cock twitching and throbbing at the idea of being squeezed between them. He wants nothing more than to pull your girlfriend down onto his face this time, to be squished between you both in some overwhelming, perfect way, but instead, he waits—patiently, letting you both take the lead, his eyes hazy with drunken lust as he watches the way you roll your hips, grinding against his shaft, coating him in your wetness.

Your girlfriend reaches between you, adding a generous amount of lube to the mix. “You’re a big boy—we need you nice and slick if you wanna get it in,” she giggles, and the sound of your laughter mixing with hers is pure music to his ears.

You lean forward, pressing your hands to his stomach to brace yourself, using your cunt to lather him up further with lube and slick. Her hand stays between you, helping to stroke along the underside of his shaft, before sneaking in a quick, teasing press to your clit.

“Gotta get you nice and wet too, baby,” she purrs, leaning in to brush her mouth over yours in a teasing kiss.

Noah all but whines at the sight, and the lack of direct attention.

“Oh, does baby boy want a kiss?” she teases, glancing down at him with a smirk.

“P-please.” His voice comes out strained, breath hitching as he tries to lean up, his hips bucking beneath you. The movement presses his cock against your folds, and he relishes in the feeling as they part and wrap around him. Each slick grind sends his piercing brushing against your clit, making you jolt with pleasure.

“Well? Kiss him, baby.” Your girlfriend’s voice is a soft purr, her hand coming up to cradle the back of your head. There’s a smirk on her lips as she guides you down toward him. Your hands slip further up his chest for balance, and when your mouth meets his, it’s a teasing brush—barely a kiss—before you fully capture his lips.

He takes the lead instantly, pulling you into something slow and needy.

Behind you, your girlfriend shifts, slipping her hand between your bodies. She grasps his thick shaft, guiding the pierced tip between your folds. The cool press of the metal catches just right, making your thighs tremble and a moan slip from you into Noah’s mouth.

As she teases your entrance, she presses her palm gently to your back, guiding you down with patient control. Her voice is a soft murmur of praise in your ear, encouraging and tender as you begin to sink onto him.

Your cunt stretches slowly around him, the thick weight of him making you whine as you try to accommodate it, every inch pushing you closer to the edge once more before he’s even fully inside, and when you finally sink down onto him, you let out the deepest of moans, rocking your hips slowly to savor the full sensation he brings. You feel the way his piercing presses deeply against your inner walls, each slow roll of your hips dragging it along sensitive spots and making you tremble as it brushes over one in particular.

You start off slow, steady, your hands planted on his stomach as you ride him, clenching around him tightly and feeling how his hips buck in response. When you glance down at him, he looks like the picture of pure bliss, but your view is quickly obscured as your girlfriend moves to straddle him, sinking herself slowly toward his face. His hands fly up to grip her thighs, dragging her closer until she’s settled in place, seated right against his mouth.

Noah’s sure this has to be what heaven feels like—being squished between two sets of thick thighs. His mouth and tongue are put to work as your girlfriend grinds herself against him, the metal of his tongue piercing flicking against her clit for that extra jolt of stimulation, and then there’s you, riding him, grinding yourself down on his cock despite how thick he feels inside you.

Other than the roar of blood rushing in his ears from the overwhelming sensation, he can still hear the way you moan and whimper, hips rolling steadily. He feels the tight, pulsing drag of your walls along his cock with every movement. His hands roam both of you, gripping at thighs, your curves, your love handles, your breasts, anything to ground himself as he’s pulled apart and dragged deeper into bliss.

The coil tightens in his stomach. Every drag of your cunt along his length, every push of him deeper into you sends a tremor through him, pushing him closer to the edge. He wants to last, but he doesn’t know how much longer he can. Muffled sounds slip from him as his mouth stays buried between your girlfriend’s thighs, tongue diving deeper into her, making her cry out louder as she starts to buck her hips, fucking herself on his tongue as best she can.

“Fuck, that’s it—right there, mhmm… God,” she gasps.

Her head falls back, and a near cackle of a moan escapes her lips as she reaches down, fingers rubbing her clit, chasing her own climax. She doesn’t squirt the way you did, but there’s still a generous gush of her release as she cums—Noah eagerly lapping it up while she grinds down on his face, coating him in it.

“That’s a good boy. Don’t waste a drop,” she murmurs, fingers tangling in his hair and gripping tight, keeping him pressed right where she wants him. She leans back toward you, turning her head to capture your mouth in a kiss while your hands continue to roam her.

The two of you are using him like your own personal toy, and it’s a dream come true.

Even when his climax crashes into him, it steals every breath from his lungs. He trembles and jerks beneath you, no time or space to warn you it’s coming, but you know, because you feel it. You feel yourself clench around him, milking him, and he moans into your girlfriend’s cunt again, an incoherent plea, but not for you to stop. He wants you to keep going, to drain him completely.

It’s no surprise when you feel it deep inside: thick and hot, his release filling you in heavy spurts, more than your body can even hold, a load to match the size of his cock. The wet sounds of his cum mixing with your own arousal only spur you on, pace quickening as you ride him through it.

He squirms beneath you, fingers digging into the thickest parts of your flesh, holding on for dear life, like if he doesn’t, he’ll float away entirely, lost in the sheer euphoria of being used, worshipped, and utterly ruined by the both of you.

With a breathless laugh, you ease yourself off him, feeling the slow trickle of his cum begin to leak out. Noah groans, his cock twitching beneath you as you crawl your way across the bed to your girlfriend, who’s already pulled herself back from him and laid out beside him, waiting.

As her thighs fall open, instinct draws you between them. You lean in to kiss her, heated, messy, all teeth and tongue, as you lower yourself, her hands roaming over you, tugging you down and closer.

Your cunt presses against hers, her hips already grinding eagerly up against nothing—until you feel the slick, messy smear of Noah’s cum coating your folds as it spreads between the two of you. The filthy, wet heat only makes her moan into your mouth.

Behind you, the bed dips as Noah shifts. He leans forward and presses a kiss to your ass cheek, then follows it with a playful bite and a sharp spank that makes you moan and giggle into the kiss. The jolt of pleasure shoots straight through you, and then his hands are on your hips, gripping tightly, tugging you into position.

His hand reaches down to stroke himself, still coated in the mixture of cum and lube. He moves closer, teasing his cock along your slit, making you gasp, before slipping lower and pressing it between your girlfriend’s folds instead. Slowly, his hips push forward, and he sinks into her with a low groan.

Her moans break your kiss, her head falling back against the pillow as his cock stretches her open. His hands trail up your back, sliding along your sides, squeezing your curves as he leans in and presses a trail of kisses down your spine. Then he draws his hips back, and snaps forward, filling her deeply again.

“Fuck,” he hisses through clenched teeth, groaning when her hands reach up past you to grasp him, dragging him down until you’re sandwiched between them both.

He picks up the pace, thrusting deeply, rhythmically, until you can barely keep kissing her through the sounds she’s making, but then suddenly, he slips out of her, leaving her gasping, already left missing the feeling, while he’s lining himself up with your entrance and plunging deep into you.

Your mouth falls open with a moan as his body presses down against your back, hips rolling steadily as he drives into your tight, slick cunt. He begins to alternate his thrusts between the two of you, slipping between folds and into soaked, clenching walls, dragging moans and whimpers from both your lips.

It’s messy and loud—the obscene sound of wetness and smacking hips echoing off the walls, the thick scent of sex hanging heavy in the air. When Noah finally pulls back, he rolls you onto your back, laying you right on top of your girlfriend.

“Hold her thighs open,” he instructs, and she obeys without hesitation, gripping your thighs and pulling them wide open, keeping your legs pinned back for him.

You’re completely spread for him now, his cum still dripping out of you, until he pushes back in and sinks deep again, fucking you right there on top of your girlfriend, her hands locked tight around your thighs to hold you open for him.

It’s obscene. Pornographic. Something you wish you could see from the outside, to take in how utterly ruined you look like this—splayed wide, him pounding into you with practiced, devastating precision. The drag of his cock hits perfectly, and when the swollen head of it presses again and again against that one spot, it sends you flying.

Your legs start to tremble, and then you break. You cum with a cry, your entire body locking up as you squirt around his cock, the gush soaking both of you as he fucks you through it, not stopping even for a second as he chases your pleasure deeper.

Noah looks like a cat who got the cream, utterly smug with the way you came around his cock—how your body still trembles as the aftershocks roll through you. He can’t help but feel proud of how far gone you are, and instead of letting you go, he keeps rolling his hips in a slow, deliberate rhythm. His cock drags through your fluttering walls until one more perfectly placed thrust brushes that same spot, making you squirt around him again.

You cry out, body wracked with shudders from the overstimulation, pleasure teetering on the edge of pain. Finally, he slips out of you—slick and soaked, and sinks into your girlfriend once more, leaning over to capture your mouth in a teasing kiss.

“It’s only fair she gets to cum too, right?” he whispers against your lips.

You nod, breath trembling, and he kisses you deeper, feeding his groans into your mouth as your girlfriend’s hands begin to roam across your skin. Noah rolls his hips into her, thrusting deeply, syncing his own nearing climax with hers. He can feel the way her walls tighten around him as she gets closer.

“Come on, baby. I know you wanna cum for me,” he murmurs—though the words are still pressed against your lips.

Then his hand sneaks down between your thighs, fingers circling your overstimulated clit while he keeps fucking her beneath you. His cock drags deeper inside her, angling just right to hit the spot that makes her cry out in those higher pitched moans. You feel her tense beneath you, her nails digging into the flesh of your thighs as she finally breaks.

She cums hard around him, her body writhing, a whimper escaping almost immediately from the sensitivity that follows. She holds on as long as she can, letting him stay buried inside her, her walls clenching tight around his cock, milking him with every flutter.

The heat in his stomach builds again, his release drawing closer as he tries to hold back, watching you both come undone beneath him, until finally, he follows, spilling thick, heavy ropes of cum deep inside her.

It takes more than a moment for all of you to come down. You and your girlfriend are the ones to crawl back up the bed, while Noah—still full of energy, insists on retrieving something sweet. There’s a joke to be made about another hydration break, but Noah just pauses at the door, glancing back at the two of you with a cheeky grin etched across his face.

“Something better than that,” he remarks before slipping out of the bedroom.

Settling back against the pillows, you reach out for your girlfriend. Her arm wraps around you as she pulls you close, fingers gently brushing your hair back from your face.

“So? Worth it?” she asks, a sly tease in her voice.

You hum softly. “I’m not sure we can make a final judgment yet.”

“Oh?” She leans back a little to look down at you, raising a brow. “And why’s that?”

“Because…” You smirk, gesturing toward the sound of footsteps bounding up the stairs. “I don’t think someone’s quite finished yet.”

Noah returns with the plate of fruit, somehow still moving with a spring in his step—his excitement palpable, despite the fact that you’d now both milked him through two orgasms. He’s practically buzzing, like a kid on Christmas morning, and honestly, you can’t help but find it endearing.

When he climbs back onto the bed, he slips himself between the two of you, picking up a piece of fruit, but it’s your girlfriend who swoops in to steal the grape, popping it into her mouth before flashing it in your direction, still held between her teeth. Shifting slightly, you lean over Noah to meet her. His eyes go wide beneath you, filled with anticipation and excitement, his mouth slightly open and tongue out like he might catch whatever falls the moment you bite the small bit of grape she’s offering.

You laugh at first, but it quickly melts into a moan as your lips meet hers. Her hand cradles the back of your head, keeping you close in the kiss, while Noah leans up between you both, planting needy kisses along your necks. Even now, his large, tattooed hands continue to explore, roaming every inch, every curve of you both, never letting either of you go untouched or not worshipped for long, something he fully intends to keep doing all night.

tagged: @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke  @geminigirlfromfinland @fuck1ng-queen @xxkittenkissesxx @lacy1986 @ami-gami @floodflameschosen @dominuslunae @tosoundlessdarkistare @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lonelydragonlady @th4t-em0-k1d @amelia-acero @dollieomens  @sitkowski @athenexe @trvshdxddy @collapsedglasshouses @overmydeadbodysblog @xmads-omensx @ajordan2020 @astronoids @courta13 @oobleoob @bluehairpunklol @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @swissy23 @i-love-the-smell-of-your-blood @thedemonofsodom @kenjipepsi1 @birdie-in-arcadia @blackcherrywhiskey @saythatuwill @stardustsirenmelody @sashabravodiary @concretenoah @death-ofpeace-ofmind @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @blade-dressed-in-red @limerinseme @lilgarbitch @pipidoll @heyyoplayer @iconic-taurus @flowery-mess @jesuisunchaton @bluestdai @respectfulrebel @dravenskye

[spyderschaos]

OTP

[buckyseternaldoll]

He Still Smelled Like Home

Pairing: exhusband!Avengers!Bucky x civilian!afab!reader

Summary: A missed anniversary. A quiet goodbye. And then a metal arm shielding you from death. You were always his. Even when you weren’t.

Warning: 18+ (mdni!), heavy angst, emotional abandonment references, hinted depression, marriage separation, unresolved tension, emotional breakdown, longing, heartbreak, near-death-experience (implied), emotionally intense smut, marking/claiming kink, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, timeline is loosely based on somewhere in between TFATWS and Thunderbolts*

Word count: 4,110 *finalized. No one's reading 29k words

You stared at the emptiness of your home.

The house that was supposed to echo with laughter, with midnight kisses in the hallway, with the low, raspy way Bucky used to call you baby when he walked in after a long day.

Instead, it echoed with silence.

Furniture untouched. Coffee gone cold on the counter. Your shared blanket on the couch still crumpled the way you left it, not him. It had been days. Maybe weeks. Time had begun to blur together in his absence.

This house — your home — used to carry his presence like a scent. Leather and spice, coffee and cedarwood. His cologne used to linger in the doorways. His boots used to thud softly on hardwood, his hums used to carry from the shower. But lately, the only things left were your own tired footsteps and the buzz of the refrigerator.

You sank onto the edge of the bed, stared at the closet that still held his clothes. Neatly arranged, untouched. They used to smell like him, like nights curled into his chest, like mornings when he wouldn’t let you leave without kissing your shoulder first.

Now they just smelled like dust.

Bucky had been swallowed whole by his work.

Some days, he was a reluctant public figure — shaking hands, attending briefings, forced into suits and speeches about reform and redemption. Most days, he was a weapon again. Deployed into fights with little notice, returning with bloodied knuckles and bruises beneath his eyes. When you touched him, he’d flinch just slightly — not from fear, but like he couldn’t believe it was real.

You understood. God, you tried.

You knew who he was. You loved who he was.

You promised yourself — again and again — that you could handle it.

The nights alone. The uncertainty. The ache of missing him.

Because you loved him too deeply to walk away.

Because you thought being Mrs. Barnes meant being strong enough for both of you.

But love had started to feel like an echo — something you screamed into the void and never got back.

What you felt now was loneliness.

A hollow ache, wide as winter, clawing at your insides every time another message came from Val instead of him. Another mission. Another country. Another time zone you didn’t belong to.

He’d always kiss you goodbye. Sometimes on the forehead. Sometimes just your hand. And sometimes… not at all. Just a silent glance before the door shut behind him, as if his guilt outweighed his ability to say goodbye.

And when he did come back, it was like he left part of himself behind.

His blue eyes — once bright, full of mischief and love and that impossible, boyish affection only you got to see — now looked dimmer. They didn’t rest on you with the same softness. They scanned you, checked you, but didn’t linger. As if he didn’t trust himself to look too long, in case it broke him.

When he held you at night, he trembled in his sleep.

When you kissed him in the morning, he didn’t kiss back right away.

He whispered I love you like it was a habit, not a promise.

So you reached for the wedding photo album. The one you kept high on the shelf, tucked behind cookbooks and board games you never played anymore.

You slid down to the floor with it. Cross-legged, as if you were still that giddy woman in love, waiting for him to walk in and steal a kiss.

The photos were intimate. Small wedding, barely two dozen people. Just the closest ones — Sam, Joaquin, and your parents’ photo in your bouquet. The two of you had danced barefoot in the grass beneath string lights, his vest long discarded, your shoes kicked off somewhere near the firepit.

In the pictures, you looked radiant.

So did he.

That little smile — crooked, cocky, only for you. His nose slightly sunburned, his metal hand resting over yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You chuckled, but it came out hollow. A dry sound that hurt more than it comforted.

Your fingers traced the edges of one photo — the one where he kissed your temple, and you closed your eyes with a smile so wide your cheeks dimpled.

And suddenly, you remembered how you met.

───

Flashback:

The entire building blacked out, trapping you in a dim elevator lit only by the red emergency light. This happened often enough that you knew the bell button was useless; you’d have to wait for maintenance.

It was nearly 2 a.m., and you’d just finished a late-night grocery run. You were stuck with a stranger — a man tall and broad, standing opposite you. His faded henley clung to his muscles even in the eerie red glow. His hair was short and neat, his stubble freshly trimmed. His sharp gaze pierced you but felt strangely warm.

“Want some grapes?” you offered, holding out a bag. He looked confused.

“I swear they taste like cotton candy,” you added, nudging the bag closer. Slowly, his guarded stare softened and he reached out with his gloved metal fingers.

“Oh,” he rumbled, voice low and rough. “They do taste like cotton candy.”

His guard dropped completely then. You talked about everything — your dog Percy who had just crossed the rainbow bridge, your chaotic job, your ex who’d burned through your savings on booze. You didn’t hold back; you were a talker, a sharer. And he listened, amused and content. For once, he wasn’t a hero or a soldier. Just Bucky.

Two hours later, when the elevator finally hummed to life, you walked toward your doors together. Nervous, you asked, “What should I call you?”

“Bucky,” he sneered softly. “I’m Bucky.”

───

You practically moved into his life. Your clothes filled his wardrobe. Your toothbrush hung beside his. You wore his oversized shirts, loved the way they draped over your curves. You cooked for him, greeted him after missions. You met Sam Wilson, who teased Bucky for smiling so much on FaceTime with you. Sam thanked you for lighting Bucky up again.

Your sex life with Bucky was electric — both with high drives, perfectly matched. When he asked you to marry him, you screamed “Yes” with joy.

───

You glanced at your phone. 3:50 a.m.

Ten minutes to four.

The dinner you made lay cold on the table. Roasted turkey with plum glaze. Mashed potatoes. His favorite black cherry pie.

You’d even worn the silk robe he once said drove him insane — the burgundy one that hugged your curves like a second skin. You had curled your hair, lit the candles, set the table for two.

It was your seventh wedding anniversary.

He had promised. Swore on your vows, on his mother’s grave. “No missions, no excuses, I’ll be home.”

But he wasn’t.

Not at 4 a.m.

Not at 7.

Not at noon.

It wasn’t until eighteen hours later that the front door finally creaked open. You were curled on the couch, still in the same robe, your makeup smudged and mascara dried into the pillow. The candles had melted down to nubs. The food had crusted over with cold.

You heard the boots first — heavy, limping, dragging.

And then you saw him.

James Buchanan Barnes, your husband. Bloodied. Bruised. One eye already purpling, a cut on his lip, blood trickling down from his temple. His vibranium arm was scorched in places. He looked like he’d been through hell and back and then some.

But he still smiled — weakly, brokenly, with his entire heart bleeding behind it.

“Baby…” he rasped, voice like gravel. “Happy anniversary.”

You blinked. Slowly. Like the words couldn’t land. You sat upright and moved toward him on instinct — your heart betraying your numbness. He was hurt. And that muscle memory in your bones still knew how to care for him.

You didn’t speak as you led him to the kitchen. Just fetched the medical kit. The antiseptic. The gauze.

He sat on the stool, watching you with tired eyes, his shoulders hunched like he was bracing for something worse than shrapnel.

You cleaned his wounds in silence.

Your hands moved gently, methodically. But your eyes stayed distant. Detached. As if you were treating a stranger. As if you’d already started grieving the version of him that used to come home smiling, on time, with flowers clutched awkwardly in his hand.

When your fingers brushed his jaw to dab ointment onto the cut beneath his cheekbone, he leaned into your touch — starved for it. Your hand hesitated, barely a second, before you pulled it away.

“Love…” he whispered.

But you shook your head. Stepped back. Your robe had come undone slightly, but you didn’t bother fixing it. You just looked at him — really looked — and realized you were tired. So deeply tired.

He tried. God, he tried.

He came back the next day with a cake you didn’t touch. Flowers that wilted in the kitchen sink. A note scribbled on hotel stationery that said I’m sorry a dozen times.

But you were already drifting. Already far from him. Not out of hatred — no, it was worse than that. It was hollowness. That gray space where love used to live, now dusted in disappointment and absence.

That night, he crawled into bed beside you.

He didn’t take your nightgown off. Didn’t try to seduce or ignite anything. He just pulled you close from behind — spooned you like he used to when nightmares came — and pressed soft kisses to your shoulder, your nape, your arm.

They weren’t seductive. They were desperate.

Whispers without words. Promises buried in breath.

His arms locked around you like he was trying to fuse you back to him — as if, if he held you hard enough, long enough, you might forget all the times he didn’t come back at all.

His lips paused at the inside of your elbow. Pressed one final kiss there.

Then, without a sound, he exhaled — and let sleep take him.

You stayed awake.

Wrapped in his arms.

Drowning in silence.

───

Morning came with the scent of mushroom soup and toasted garlic baguette. You stirred awake to the distant clatter of dishes, the quiet hum of the stove, and the absence of his warmth beside you.

You’d fallen asleep curled in his arms — your face tucked beneath his jaw, legs tangled under the sheets. But now, the space was cold.

You found him in the kitchen, already dressed in soft joggers and a black t-shirt, hair damp. He was plating the soup with clinical precision, like it gave him something to focus on. Something other than the ache written plainly in his eyes when he saw you.

“Morning, doll,” he said softly, like the word itself might crack under the weight between you.

You nodded. Sat down at the small table.

And then the silence began.

You both moved through breakfast like strangers — chewing in syncopated rhythm, passing the butter with hesitant fingers, eyes never quite meeting. He stirred his soup without tasting it. You sipped your coffee like it was the only thing anchoring you.

The air was thick with unsaid things. Words sat like iron behind your ribs — but neither of you moved to break the dam.

Until the very end.

You were wiping your mouth, standing to rinse your plate, when Bucky finally found his voice.

“Sweetheart…” His voice cracked on the pet name. He paused — swallowing hard, like he needed to force the rest out. “I think… we need some time. Some space. I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

You froze with the plate in your hand.

He reached across the table for your fingers — hesitant, trembling — but you pulled away before he could touch you.

A hollow laugh escaped you, bitter and breathless.

“If you say so, Bucky,” you said, voice flat and cold. “Maybe I wasn’t really made for you.”

He flinched like you’d slapped him. You saw it in the way his jaw clenched, in the pain flickering behind those steel-blue eyes — the kind that didn’t bleed, just quietly bruised.

But he didn’t stop you.

Didn’t beg.

Didn’t follow.

You packed your things with mechanical efficiency — toothbrush, spare clothes, the book you left on his nightstand. You left his hoodie folded on the bed and the ring in the drawer, tucked between receipts and mission notes. You took most of your pieces with you, but something in you stayed behind — still curled in that bed, still holding onto the man you loved.

And when you shut the door behind you, he stayed on the other side.

Silent.

Shattered.

Still too much Bucky to stop you, and not enough to ask you to stay.

───

Eight months later —

No calls.

No texts.

Not even a whisper through mutual friends. Not even from Sam.

You tried to move on.

You went out with friends. Swiped left and right. Let a stranger kiss you once at a bar — his lips were too wet and his hands too eager. You let another walk you home and never answered when he called again.

But none of them touched you like he did.

None of them held you like you were fragile and fire at once.

No one smelled like warm amber, cedar, and that faint, addictive trace of danger.

Your bed was too big. Too cold.

You cried yourself to sleep more nights than you could count, face buried in a pillow that still carried a ghost of his scent. Even the apartment felt wrong — full of your things but missing your home.

So you walked.

Miles and miles through the city, trying to chase your own shadow.

That morning was no different. Clouds hung low. Wind sharp.

You had your hands in your coat pockets, earbuds in, but no music playing. You just needed to be anywhere but inside your head.

Until—

The chaos hit.

Sirens.

Screams.

The city cracked open with noise — the grinding roar of steel collapsing, the screech of tires, the whoosh of fire somewhere not far from you. But it all sounded distant. Muffled. Like someone had dunked your head under water.

Your legs froze.

People screamed around you, bolting in every direction. Something exploded behind you. And before you could even process the danger—

You looked up.

A van — crushed and burning — was flipping in your direction.

Your body didn’t move. Couldn’t.

You just stood there.

You closed your eyes.

And for a moment, you welcomed it.

The pain. The impact. The silence that would follow.

Maybe this was how it ended. Maybe it would finally stop hurting.

But instead—

The world cracked open with a clang so loud it split the sky.

Metal slammed against metal, the sound so sharp it vibrated down your spine.

You opened your eyes.

And there he was.

James Buchanan Barnes.

Your ex-husband.

Your ghost.

Your gravity.

Your everything that once was and never stopped being.

He stood between you and the van, his vibranium arm braced against the smoking wreckage, stopping it mid-roll. His boots skidded across the concrete, muscles taut beneath his tactical gear. The plates of his arm groaned under the weight, but he held steady — held for you.

His chest heaved. Jaw clenched. His hair was a mess, stubble thick along his jaw, blood streaked on his temple, and still — still — the second your eyes met, you forgot how to breathe.

His scent hit you next.

Smoke. Leather. Salt.

And underneath it, that impossible, familiar sweetness — like vanilla left too close to a bonfire.

Then he was on you.

Hands gripping your arms, scanning every inch of your face, your body, like he didn’t trust you were real. Like you’d vanish if he blinked. His touch wasn’t gentle. It was urgent — trembling, firm, searching.

His voice came out strangled. “Don’t you fucking dare die before me.”

Your knees buckled, but he caught you.

His arms wrapped around you like a vice, pulling you against him — like he could absorb you into his skin. Like the world had come undone and only your heartbeat could put it back together.

You clung to him. You didn’t think, didn’t speak — just held.

His vibranium fingers slid into your hair. His human hand pressed to your lower back, clutching like he could keep you from fading. His forehead touched yours, both of you panting, trembling, suspended between collapse and salvation.

He whispered your name like it was a prayer.

Then — just like that — he pulled back. Gave you a look.

“Wait here,” he rasped.

His tone was low but commanding, that voice you used to hear in bed when he’d make you come with nothing but words. And like always, even now, even after everything, your body obeyed before your brain caught up.

You nodded. “‘Kay.”

He turned and ran back into the fray.

You barely noticed the minutes passing — only that he kept glancing over his shoulder. Like he couldn’t risk not checking. Like he needed to see you to breathe.

The fight ended quickly.

Some coordinated terrorist hit gone wrong. Bucky and the team had moved like a soldier possessed, taking down the last of them with clinical precision. When Valentina clapped him on the back, rattling off some smug line about his team's New Avengers status, he barely registered it.

His eyes were already on you.

Locked.

He broke from the team without a word.

Crossed the rubble. Climbed over twisted steel and ash.

Until his hand reached for yours.

And you didn’t hesitate.

Fingers threaded. Palms locked.

He led you — fast but careful — through the remnants of the battleground. He didn’t speak, didn’t explain. Just kept walking until he found what he needed: a shattered doorway tucked beneath a battered brick building. The inside was dusty, quiet. Safe.

He pressed you inside. His chest nearly heaving.

The second the door creaked shut behind you—

The dam burst.

He lunged.

His mouth crashed onto yours like a breaking wave.

All teeth and tongue and need.

Your back hit the wall. His hands pinned you there, lips devouring like he was starving. Like every second of those eight months had built to this very moment.

Your hands tore at his jacket. Fisted into his shirt. Your mouth opened for him — let him take what he needed, because it was yours too. The ache, the hunger, the ache, the ache—

He groaned into your kiss. The sound wrecked you.

His vibranium hand slid to your throat — not choking, just holding — like he needed to feel your pulse. Needed to prove you were alive. His other hand cupped your face, thumb stroking your cheek as his mouth moved to your jaw, then your neck.

“You’re real,” he whispered. “You’re fucking real.”

Your tears answered before your voice could.

He leaned his forehead into yours again. Chest heaving. Breaths shallow. Every inch of him radiating tension, heartbreak, and sheer unfiltered love.

Then came the words. Quiet. Ragged.

“Come home.”

You didn’t speak.

You didn’t need to.

You just held tighter.

And followed.

───

The apartment door slammed shut behind you both, and the moment it did, something primal broke loose.

Bucky didn’t speak — he lunged. Hands everywhere, mouths crashing, teeth clashing like it hurt to be apart this long. His fingers tugged at your shirt so hard it ripped at the seams. You yanked his jacket down his arms, let it crumple to the floor, then pushed his dark shirt up and over his head — revealing the body that haunted your dreams for months.

“God, baby,” he breathed against your mouth, voice thick and broken. “Eight months. I was going insane.”

“Then show me,” you growled. “Fucking prove it.”

And he did.

───

He pressed you up against the nearest wall, your legs wrapping around his waist like instinct. The first thrust was sharp and deep — a punch of heat that knocked the air from your lungs. He didn’t start slow. There was no space for slow. Not now.

You gasped as he slammed into you, his metal hand gripping under your thigh, fingers digging hard enough to bruise. Your back arched against the plaster as he took you hard and fast, his mouth on your neck, biting down like he needed to mark you again. He whispered, “Mine,” over and over, like a vow.

You came quickly, clenching around him as he growled into your skin — hips stuttering, muscles tight as he spilled deep inside you, still panting your name.

But neither of you moved.

He stayed buried in you, arms wrapped tight, forehead pressed to yours.

“I missed you,” you gasped, breath trembling. “So fucking much, Bucky.”

His hand caressed your face. “I never stopped being yours.”

───

Moments later, he was dragging you to the bedroom.

He flipped you onto your stomach, kissing down your spine, tongue tracing the dip of your back. His voice was low, dangerous. “Gonna remind you how you sound when you scream for me.”

You felt the cool slide of his metal hand between your thighs, spreading you open, and then he was inside you again — slower this time, but deeper. He drove into you with devastating control, groaning every time you clenched around him.

“Fucking hell,” he hissed. “No one else gets you like this. No one else can.”

You could only moan his name, clutching the sheets as he wrecked you from behind. Each thrust pushed you forward, breath caught on every hard snap of his hips.

Your second orgasm hit like a freight train — you shattered beneath him with a broken sob, and he followed, grunting your name as he came again, biting your shoulder hard enough to leave a mark.

───

You barely had time to recover before he turned you onto your back and kissed you breathless.

“Still not done,” he murmured, voice gone hoarse. “I haven’t had you in eight goddamn months, sweetheart. I’m taking my time now.”

He used his shirt to tie your wrists to the headboard, slow and deliberate. His vibranium hand gripped your thigh and spread you wide, while the flesh one traced the curve of your belly and up to your chest. “So beautiful,” he whispered. “All mine.”

This time he entered you with a slow, torturous roll of his hips. He built you up until you were sobbing for him, body arching under his rhythm. He kept his forehead pressed to yours, whispering things he never got to say:

“I dreamt of you every night…”

“Couldn’t even sleep on my side of the bed…”

He kissed away your tears as he brought you over the edge, holding you through the tremble. He didn’t stop until he was coming again, voice raw and quiet. “No one touches you like I do. No one ever will.”

───

You made it to the bathroom — barely — stripping along the way. Bucky turned on the water, but before you could even step in, he spun you around and kissed you again.

This time it wasn’t fury. It was need.

You were both soaked by the spray when he lifted your leg, pressing your back to the cold tile, and slid into you once more. Slow, deliberate, eyes locked on yours. You held his face, ran your fingers through his soaked hair, watched his expression as he moved inside you like he never wanted to leave your body again.

It was messy and quiet. Wet skin slapping. Fingers clutching. Moans swallowed into kisses.

When he came this time, it wasn’t explosive — it was devastatingly intimate. He buried his face in your neck and whimpered your name, his whole body shaking.

You both stood under the water for minutes, breathing each other in.

───

He finally scooped you into his arms and gently lowered you into the already-drawn bathtub — the lavender oil you’d left behind still sitting by the edge.

You curled into his lap, the warm water surrounding you both like a cocoon. His arms wrapped around you from behind, lips brushing your shoulder. He massaged your thighs under the water, fingers tracing every mark he’d left.

“You okay, doll?” he whispered softly. “I didn’t mean to be that rough…”

“I needed it,” you murmured, turning your head to kiss his jaw. “Needed you.”

You leaned back into his chest, both of you quiet for a while, the sound of the water lapping gently around you.

“You're not leaving again,” he finally said. “Whatever it takes. You’re it for me.”

You nodded slowly, hand finding his under the surface.

“I know,” you whispered. “We’ll figure it out. Together this time.”

And he kissed your temple, the kind of kiss that didn’t demand anything.

The kind that said: Home. Ours. Always.

[juniperscauldron]

The mention of a greenhouse had her smiling from ear to ear. It would be nice to grow vegetables again, instead of just the flowers and herbs she could maintain in her apartment. She missed kneeling in the dirt and getting grass stains on her jeans. “That would honestly be incredible. My apartment is surprisingly spacious, but it’s still an apartment. I’m not used to the lack of land to work.” 

This branch was different from her own, but she liked it here. Though they did seem a bit lost from time to time. Her brief conversations with the local branch head had been just that- brief. But he was exactly what she would expect from someone in his position, eccentric, storied. He had also known of her family. Even going so far as to note her resemblance to her grandmother, Olea. 

There was a bitterness to it. Even more confirmation that her grandfather had taken more from her than he had given. It went deeper than the suppression of her magic, it went deeper than the lies about her fortitude, it went deeper than isolation. He had taken her own history from her. Left her to lead a coven half blind and unfulfilled. She hadn’t the heart at the time to tell old man Fitz just how far his old friends had fallen from grace. 

“If my honesty is what you really want. I think this branch is doing fine. I have moderate concerns for the level of disconnect between members, but that could easily be chalked up to personal preference and differences in coven culture.” She was careful with how she chose her words. “And now with the heads passing- I worry that no one seems to have sprung into action in regard to taking over the mantle. Did the old man not have a successor in training?” She was sure each branch did things differently. Her home branch had operated on a system of assigned succession for the most part. It stayed within the Kessler line- but that was less a rule and more just how it turned out. 

“I think things will turn out well. If this kind of instability could uproot the spirit of Phial then we would have wilted away centuries ago.” She spoke with a soft confidence in the statement. Her doubts in herself would never turn into doubt of her coven. If she had no faith in herself, she would still have faith in her roots.

Her head tilted slightly to the side as she contemplated the woman's words. No access to her magic? A terrifying concept. In what way could she not have her magic that made her feel like she had to justify her worry for her own coven? Juniper's eyes widened as she realized it could only be one of two options realistically. Both terrifying in their own right to her. 

“Magic or no magic Phial is your home.” She asserted. “We’ll be fine. As long as Phial can present a united opinion tonight when things get serious, then we can worry about the finer details of getting our legs back later.” Kiri did have Juniper thinking now. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to make the rounds and try to at least figure out what their united front was going to be.

Juniper's response elicits a rare but genuine smile from Kiri. The apothecary is her life's work, a culmination of the blood, sweat and tears that she has put into reclaiming what had been stolen from her family. When all else fails, her work remains constant, and to be seen through that makes her still heart sing.

"I- we have a greenhouse," she says. It's no longer just hers as the plants would no longer be here without Blair, so it feels wrong to claim it as solely her own. "It is on Westriver's property, but I promise no harm shall come to you on those grounds should you need supplies. We've always been able to come to agreeable terms with other members within the coven, to be able to cultivate plants that may not be native to the area." Juniper is welcome to it should she need anything.

The younger witch is refreshingly honest in her assessment, pointing out the flaws and inconsistencies while maintaining an air of decorum. They are the exact sort of qualities that made Kiri unsuited for the position of leadership, unlike her wife. "On the contrary, that's precisely why I wish to know your thoughts. This has been my coven for many years, and while things have changed, it's more difficult to see when already entrenched into the fabric. A fresh perspective might be exactly what is needed."

With the unexpected passing of their latest head, she has been watching to see how the coven might come together in the vacuum left behind, yet there has been little initiative. She doesn't judge them, doesn't feel as though her voice should play a vital role in the future of the coven when she is merely an alumnus. Ultimately, the vampire has no solutions to offer, but stands at the ready to provide what support might be helpful. "Things are not usually this unstable," she admits, voice low considering it's not something that they would like to advertise to their visitors. She offers no excuses for it. "Even though I may no longer have access to my magic, I do not wish to see the coven flounder."

[dcxdpdabbles]

Danny wakes up in a cage in the Batcave as a human and thinks to himself “well that’s not a good sign.”

Big bad bat encountered him in the caves near the Batcave by finding him half dunked in the Lazarus pits under Gotham during a routine check. He put the boy in a cage as a precaution, but was otherwise planning on investigating then returning him to his rightful place.

Danny does not know that.

He proceeds to search his pockets (phase his hand into his body disguised as reaching into his pockets) and pulls out a tool kit, systematically disassembles, exits, then reassembles the cage.

And walks out.

Now the bats are hunting the streets for this engineering escape artist while Danny is just hanging out at a newsstand reading up on the universe Clockwork had sent him to check out.

"Woah! What happened here?" Duke gasps from the staircase. He is wearing his school uniform, but upon checking his backpack, he realizes his chemistry textbook is missing, likely somewhere in the Batcave after his latest monitor duty.

He had been multitasking by shooting out questions to the rest of the bats as they patrolled. Due to an injured wrist, Duke had been benched from his regular day shift (Jason offered to cover for him), and watching screens had been the only way Bruce had been willing to let him participate.

That quickly became boring, however, since Oracle was much faster than he was, and Duke had a tough time focusing on screens. He's never been one to enjoy too much screen time - he didn't have the attention span for it.

This meant that Duke had not been in the cave for the past three nights, after he struck a deal with Bruce to let him catch up on some much-needed rest instead, provided he could continue his civilian work during the day.

Imagine his surprise to find the Batcave in disarray, with almost everything taken apart, piece by piece, including the Batcomputer and the dinosaur. Bruce, Damian, Dick, Jason, Tim, and Cass were currently attempting to gather the pieces and reassemble everything, which seemed hard given all the little pieces that had shattered about.

"Some kid with a screwdriver," Jason grunted, holding up various nails towards the light. In front of the anti-hero were five distinct piles of nails and bolts, each separated by type and size, which he carefully sorted from a large bucket.

"What?"

Tim looked up from a mountain of wires, some of which were dropped over his shoulders, around his head, and a few were entangled with his leg, as he tried to untangle everything. He looked as crazed as he did the year he decided he was going to put up all the Christmas lights by himself, only to realize how large Wayne Manor really was. "Two nights ago, we found a civilian unconscious in cave sector T-Y13. He was practically radioactive with Lazarus pits water, so Bruce had the bright idea to put him in a cage as a precaution. The civillain woke up while Bruce was away so he couldn't explain that he was not kidnapped, realized he was in a cage, and deassimbled it with a tool set he pulled from his ass-"

"Tim. Laugauge" Dick scolds, leanign over metal tubes to cover Damian's ears. The twelve-year-old huffs, but doesn't shake off Dick's hands as he stares at a different buckets of lightbults, sorting them like Jason was doing to the nails.

It was a little darker than what Duke was used to.

"-And then, he decided to reassemble the cage once he was out." Tim continued as if he weren't interrupted, nodding his head to the only part of the cave that looked normal. The contamination unit seemed to shine in the untouched spotlights. "Then the civilian had the bright idea to take apart everything in the cave. He systematically disassembled everything and mixed up the pieces. The only things he left alone were the railings!"

"It's pretty impressive," Bruce praises. He was checking over technology boards with a critical eye. A headlight strapped to his forehead shines brightly on the pieces as he smiles. "I wonder where he is now."

"If he has any brains, he's probably applying for a position with a pit crew in NASCAR," Cass laughs, picking up different boards of metal. "He took the whole place apart in less than twenty minutes."

"He even got the Batpens" Dick sighs. "Why was he so passive-aggressive about pulling out the pen's springs?"

"If I woke up in a cage, after unfair imprisonment, I would also cause my captors as much grief as possible," Damain comments casually. "We are lucky he decided to leave nothing harmful behind."

"He just took everything else!" Steph's voice calls out from a dark patch of the cave. Duke knows it's in the direction of the showers and the changing room. "Does anyone see any shower heads over there? The kid took them off every shower!

"I have one!" Cass calls back, holding up an item in her hand. "Are any pipes missing? There are five long metal cylinders that I can't figure out what they are for."

"No, he left the pipes along, but I think he took the mirrors and the door."

"Which door?" Bruce yells back. There is a moment of silence before Steph replies.

"All of them! "

"Of course. That's what these ones are for." Jason says in an Ah-ha voice, holding up a few black bolts. "They're the ones from the shower heads!"

Duke stares, then sighs. He lets his backpack slide off his shoulders, landing on the stairs with a thump. Looks like he's calling in sick to school again.

Rolling up his sleeves, he moves over to Cass and helps her lift the long cylinders she had mentioned. "Do we know anything about this civilian?"

"Before he took the Batcomputer apart, we were able to get that he wasn't in any of the local government records. He isn't from Gotham or this state." Bruce says while carefully placing pieces back on a large computer board with a pair of tweezers. "My guess, he's not going to be in any system, either."

"Why?"

Bruce looks up, his eyes shining. "His DNA matched eighty-five percent with Themyscira's genetic make-up. No proof of cloning either. We may just have a genius male Themysciran on our hands."

Duke didn't like how excited Bruce sounded when he made that statement. He opens his mouth to snap, "You can't adopt him, Bruce!"

It's validating that his voice wasn't the only one that said it, but that it echoed by literally everyone else in the cave. Bruce purses his lips but doesn't agree or disagree with the accusation as he turns back to his computer board.

Duke hears him mutter under his breath, but he's too far away to figure out what he said.

"How long do you think this will take us to put back together?" He asks Cass as they compare metal pieces- he's holding a triangle-looking thing that he can't figure out where it came from.

She kicks aside a circular metal slate, raising a brow at him, then nodding her head toward the left side of the cave. Duke turns to look in the direction of the third Robin, who was wiggling around.

"What are you!?" Tim screams at a blue wire, shaking it like he was strangling someone's neck. Somehow, in the time Duke looked away from him, Tim had his right arm tied to his left knee, with a red wire thread running through his shirt, and his right leg was no longer visible because the rest of the wire pile had consumed it.

"Oh, so it's going to be a few hours," Duke sighs as Cass nods sadly.

"Does anyone have any eyes on the light switches?" Dick yells out. "Damian and I almost have all the pieces to turn the lights back on."

"Oh gods -He took the lockers!" Steph screams in angst. "I had a snack stash in there!"

[finallychaoticeffigy]

Yandere Sleeping beauty au

TW : NONCON, DON'T READ IF YOU'RE UNCOMFORTABLE

You were cursed. Apparently your noble parents were literal shits. Some random witch got angry and instead of taking it out on them, they decided to take it out on you. Yeah sucks, you didn't even do anything. The witch cursed you , on your 18th you were destined to fall into a deep slumber, and there's no cure.

Your life pretty much spins doing the same thing. Eat , sleep and stuff. You did have a friend though, the crown prince. Although he always looks creepy, hes the only one you have, so you suck it up and continue hanging out with him.

You two were childhood friends. Even though his status is clearly higher than yours, Your parents were quite close. Close enough that when both of you come into existence, they decide that you too were gonna be inseparable. And the crown prince didn't mind, in fact he seems to have some attachment to you. When you two were just kids, he would stick to you like glue.

"Y/n ! Y/n ! You're here again ! Let's go to my room and play !" He lunged and wrapped his arms around you.

"Your highness... I can't breathe properly, Will you be so kind and loosen up a bit ?" You struggled at his touch.

"Ow. I am sorry .... Let's just go please...."

-------------------+++++++++++---------

He stared at you. You were sleeping so peacefully .....And so so Beautiful. It's been 2 days since your 18th birthday... since you collapsed. He was devastated, of course. He ordered every guard to hunt down the witch that did this to you. If he had known this earlier, he would have found her but alas you and your parents were good at secrets.

He threatened to slaughter both your parents if they didn't hand you over to him. Being the selfish shit person they are, they were planning to just kill you , it's not like there's any cure so what's the point right?

Boy was he livid when he realized what they were about to do that he just beheaded them right there. He just took you, he took your sleeping form and just laid you on his bed.

Every night he would only embrace you. You were so warm , soft and he loves you so much. Until time passed and it became more intense, he started leaving wet kisses all over you. Sucking your skin until it becames purple.

He never stopped searching for that witch that did this to you. He and his men searched far and wide, never bothering to miss a place , hoping that maybe someday, and he knows , that you once again will awoke.

He started losing his mind. He started talking to you. Saying how much he loves you and things he would do to you the moment you were awake. Then when no words would come out of you, only light snores he would chuckle and embrace you even tighter.

He didn't see anything wrong with it. You are his after all. Then it happened.

He was admiring you . Leaving wet kisses all over your sleeping face as always. Then he got the urge. He stared at your clothes.

"Baby. You look so pretty in this dress" he hover above your sleeping form.

"I am going to take it off , Ok baby? " He slides the strap on your shoulder, then lowers until your chest is revealed .

He blushed a deep shade of red at your sight. Then take your left breast in his hand. He groaned, the feeling of your soft flesh in his hand is driving him insane.

He strips you fully naked. Poor girl, you have no idea what is happening to you right now. How your so-called friend that you thought cherishes you so much could do such a thing.

His breathing was loud. He caress your body with care. His touch gentle and sweet, full of admiration, lust , love, obsession.

He licked your face. Then your lips, softly biting them. He moaned in delight. He's sick in the head, he was very much aware so but he just craves for you so much .

"I am so sorry my darling.... I just..I love you so much, I can't help myself" sweat dripping down his forehead and excitement is evidence in his eyes.

He kneels before you. He carefully spread your legs and began to worship your body. He licked, sucked , he loves it, he loves it a lot. Your warm sleeping body quietly squirms. Gosh you are so adorable.

"YOU thrust ARE thrust MINE " he declares as he pound. His face buried deep in your neck biting them feeling an irresistible urge. His left arm wrapped protectively around your waist while the other on your head.

"Mhhhh You're only mine baby....Just mine and mine alone . We belong together. I fucking love you so much . "

-----+-++++-++++--++++-------------+

Your body felt heavy. You sit on the huge bed and stretch . That was a good sleep , you thought. What year is it? It can't be that long is it .

You gasped when you realised you were at your 'friends' room. It was the same grand room with your portraits hanging on the walls. You once told him to stop doing it but bloody cow he was stubborn.

You got up , legs shaking. You felt pain all over your body. Then when you finally come into senses you just noticed that you were covered in hickeys and love marks. At first you gaslight yourself into thinking it's just mosquitoes. You weren't dumb though.

You needed to get the hell away from here. You don't like what's happening. You raced to the door only to find it was locked. Fuck.

You wish you got away from him as early as possible. You wanted to cry. You climbed back to his bed because you didn't have a choice. You crawled into the tiniest ball and hugged a pillow.

A few minutes later he barged in. "Baby !...Baby !, You're finally awake !" He muttered like a child. You could see hearts in his eyes. "I tortured that witch real good , how about a kiss for my good behavior" he cooe.

[angelltheninth]

Hooking Up with Jinu in the Bathroom

Pairing: Jinu x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, enemies to lovers, rough sex, name-calling, degradation, creampie, secret relationship, hook ups

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Because you all wanted more of him I'm delivering more Jinu. Not that it's too hard, I would have done it anyway.

This time you were the one who dragged him into a secluded place, unfortunately that said place was the club bathroom. He had the audacity to show up with the rest of the Saja Boys and act like everything was fine, grin at you like nothing had happened.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You asked angrily as his lips pressed against yours, as his hands lifted you against the bathroom door. "Showing up here. Do you have a death wish?"

Jinu laughed against your lips, his eyes shining, hips rolling into yours. "No death wish. I figured you'd miss me, after the last time. It was so much fun."

Growling you pulled his hair, making his cock twitch in his pants from the painful sting. You should leave, or you should try to defeat him once and for all, you should do anything but spread your legs wider and allow him to push your underwear to the side. "This is the bathroom, you perverted demon freak."

"Yeah, and you dragged me in here instead of kicking me and my boys out. Figured that was an invitation. I'll make it quick, make it good for you, so good, pretty girl." He spoke to you in a soft yet condescending tone, completely confidant too. You gasped when you felt the tip of his cock sink in. You didn't even register him taking his pants off, too distracted by weather or not you should tell him to fuck off or not.

Your legs squeezed around him instinctively when his hands left your hips to freely roam your body.

"See? You take me so well, so easily, like you were made for it, made to be mine." He didn't give you time to adjust to his girth, he slammed into you, wanting to hear you moan into his ear. "You sound so pretty when you sing but I like these sounds too."

"Stop. Talking." You warned before shutting him up with your hand. Jinu grinned against it and moved to take your fingers into his mouth. Your mouth dropped open in shock.

"Tastes like you. Were you fucking yourself just before this, in your room, thinking of me? Bet that's the case. You act all high and mighty and like you're better than me but all you are right now is a common slut. Taking my cock and loving every bit of it." His tongue moved to your wrist, his sharp teeth nibbling on your pulse point while his hips smacked against yours. "Think I'm gonna unload into you. Send you back out there dripping with my cum again. See how long you can hide it."

A shiver, a shamefully pleasant one, traveled through your body, made your pussy clench around his veiny cock. "I hate you. I should kill you. I should... oh fuck, fuck!" You rolled your hips against his when he stopped moving, your face hot with embarrassment.

"Yeah, yeah, that's right, hate me all you want, fuck yourself on the cock of the man you hate, make yourself come from it. Hate me after, hate me forever, as long as you keep taking me like this." Jinu grunted and pressed his forehead against yours, his your breaths mixing, hot and heavy. "Gonna fill you up." It almost sounded soft, the way he said it.

Right before the now familiar feeling of his hot seed flooded your insides, painting your inner walls and your womb in white. "Ah, Jinu!" You moaned and repeated his name over and over, high and then low, clinging onto him, unwilling to let go.

Even when your body stopped shaking you didn't push him away, you let him kiss you, soft and possessive. He whispered something against your lips but you didn't quite catch it. "...you. I'll see you again soon."

"W-What? Mmmn!" You whined when you felt him pull out and set your underwear back into place like it could hold his cum in. You felt it dripping down your leg and white hot shame returned all at once. "Y-You!" He grinned even as you slapped him. "Seriously, what the fucking hell is wrong with you?! I can't go out like this! Why did I even let you do that?!"

"I wonder why, s-l-u-t." Right before your hand made contact with his other cheek he vanished, his smug, mocking laughter echoing around you.

"Fuck! Fuck! Why?! Why is he so...?!" You felt like you wanted to throw something. As much as you were angry at him you were also angry at yourself, for allowing, almost wanting him to do what he did, for him to take you as he did. It felt good and you hated yourself for acknowledging that.

This cannot go on like this. Next time, the next time Jinu tries something like this you have to put a stop to it, no matter how good it might feel, no matter how conflicted and confused you were about these feelings you were having about him and whatever this strange relationship now was.

[verstappenverse]

Can you do one where max is teaching reader how to sim race and is really bad but when max is gone to races reader is secretly using his sim setup to get better and one day reader surprises max showing they got better? I feel like this made no sense 😭 I really love your writing thought you could make this idea come to mind 🫶🏻❤️

Ghost Laps

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: What starts as Max teasing you over your terrible sim racing attempts turns into a secret mission to impress him. (Requested)

1.8k words / Alternate Scene / Masterlist

You’re awful at this. Comically bad. You spin out in the first corner, crash into a wall in the second, and somehow end up driving in the wrong direction before Max can even stop laughing.

“I just don’t get it,” you groan, half-laughing, half-threatening to throw the wheel across the room. “How am I already off track? I haven’t even hit the first corner yet!”

From the couch behind you, Max chuckles. He’s draped lazily across the cushions, an arm slung over the backrest and one leg bouncing with idle amusement. “You missed your braking point again,” he says, far too calmly for someone witnessing you virtually crash for the third time in five minutes.

“Maybe if you gave better instructions—”

“You’re the one who missed the turn,” he deadpans.

You spin around in the seat to glare at him, cheeks warm. “Because you said left while pointing right!.”

Max bites back a grin, eyes crinkling. “Come on, you can figure it out. You’ve watched me race a million times.”

“You don’t watch Gordon Ramsay and magically become a chef,” you shoot back, gesturing wildly to the sim setup. “This thing is terrifying. Why is it so sensitive?.”

Max gets up and saunters over with that usual quiet confidence that borders on cocky. He rests his hand on your shoulder and leans down, his voice lower now. “I think you’d rather argue with me than try again.”

You tilt your head up, lips quirking. “Oh because you’re so patient and humble when I spin off into a wall.”

Max laughs, soft and warm. “Alright, fair. But you’re doing better than you think.”

“Really?”

He hesitates. Then lies. “Sure.”

You shove his hand off your shoulder, laughing. “You’re the worst.”

“Okay, maybe this is not my calling,” you mutter, yanking off the headset.

Max kisses your temple, still smirking. “Told you. But hey, it was cute watching you try.”

You should be annoyed, but you know he’s not actually trying to mock you and it’s impossible to stay mad when he looks at you like that, so instead you lean into his side and grin.

“I’ll find a different hobby,” you say.

But later, when he leaves for the next Grand Prix weekend something tugs at you. You find yourself staring at the sim rig after he goes. You are bad at it. Really bad. But maybe not hopeless. And Max, for all his teasing, had been annoyingly kind about it.

The screens glow in standby mode, waiting. Your fingers hover over the power switch.

Just one lap.

That’s how it starts.

You drive.

You crash.

You swear.

You adjust the pedals, crack your knuckles, and whisper to yourself: don’t spin it this time.

And you try again.

Max's sim rig is intimidating, and you know it’s expensive, plus it’s precise and utterly punishing. You don't dare touch his settings, so you make do. One YouTube tutorial turns into five that tuns into ten. Then you’re watching old onboards, listening to the pitch of engine sounds like you actually know what you’re doing. You’re scouring the web late into the night researching for any tips or tricks you can find.

You stop crashing by Day 4. By the end of the week, you can finish a lap. A clean one. You start setting decent lap times by Day 9. By Day 12, you’re doing consistent laps

Two weeks in, you're chasing ghosts. Literally, you race against Max’s stored ghost laps on Spa, watching the glowing blue car pull away in Sector 2 and vowing to close the gap. Every night after work it's a routine, tie your hair up, grab a water bottle, and boot up iRacing like you're training for something. You even start logging your lap times in your notes app like a serious amateur.

It becomes your own secret ritual. A way of being close to him when he’s away that doesn’t hurt so much.

Max texts you in bursts during the two week. Voice notes between debriefs, a quick facetime from the paddock, a few rants about tyre degradation and setup frustrations. He always asks how you’re doing, what you’re up to, and every time you somehow manage not to mention the hours you’re now secretly spending in his sim.

Can’t believe it’s been two weeks since you traumatised the virtual car. time flies. would 100% pay to watch it again.

You’re grinning when you read that one, but you keep the secret anyway.

You don’t know why you’re keeping it a secret. Maybe it’s because it started as a bit of fun, or maybe it’s because you want to surprise him. But part of you also just wants to do something for yourself. Just to prove you can.

He comes home on a Monday.

His flight arrives at midnight, and you meet him at the door, hair a mess from waiting up and eyes barely open. He’s still in his team hoodie, duffel bag slung over one shoulder, and when he sees you, he drops everything just to pull you into a hug.

“I missed you,” he murmurs against your hair.

He looks exhausted, eyes rimmed with fatigue, but he’s smiling like he’s never been happier to be home. You help him carry his stuff inside, and once he’s showered and curled up beside you in bed, he finally asks:

“So… do I get another performance on the sim this week?” Max grins, nudging your side. “Could use a good laugh.”

You shrug casually. “Might’ve had a little go while you were away.”

That gets his attention. He sits up slightly. “Wait, seriously?”

You toss him a look, still deliberately casual. “You were gone, I was bored. Figured I’d mess around a bit without the peanut gallery laughing this time.” You narrow your eyes at him, just for emphasis.

“I never laughed at you,” he insists, way too fast.

You raise a brow. “Max, you wheezed. I thought you were going to pass out.”

He winces, then grins. “Okay… maybe a little.”

Your heart stutters, but you smother it with a smirk. “Wanna see or not?”

His brows draw together, curious now. “Right now?”

You’re already sliding out of bed. “Come on champ.”

You lead him to the sim, flick on the lights, and sit down in the chair. The screens flicker to life, the whirring of the pedals and wheel now familiar.

Max watches from behind you, arms crossed, leaning against the chair but sweatpants and a sleepy smile.

“Alright Verstappen,” you say. “Watch and learn.”

You load into Austria. Red Bull Ring. Home turf.

The loading screen fades, and you place your hands on the wheel. Your shoulders relax. You take a breath.

And then you start.

He doesn’t speak at first. Just watches.

You hit turn one with precision, clipping the apex just right. Brake late into turn three, hold your nerve through the uphill. You’re smooth on throttle. Confident in your braking points. Sector by sector, you thread the lap with a rhythm that feels second nature, because it is now.

By the time you cross the line, Max is no longer smiling. He’s blinking at you like you’ve just grown a second head. He’s still now, standing upright. Eyes fixed on the screen. His smile has slipped into something else entirely, something bordering on disbelief.

You spin around in your seat, heart pounding, breath a little tight in your chest. “Surprised?”

“What the fuck?” he breathes.

You laugh, unable to hold it back. “That bad?”

“That good,” he mutters, eyes flicking from you to the sim, then back again. “That was… really good.”

You beam. “No crashing this time.”

“That was more than just not crashing. That was… I mean you nailed every corner.” He cuts himself off, watching the replay. “You practiced this much?”

You nod, a little shy now. “Every day while you were gone.”

His brows shoot up. ���Every day?”

“Morning. Night. Whenever I had time.” You shrug, trying not to sound self-conscious. “Just wanted to see if I could do it.”

Max stares at you. Then at the sim. Then back at you.

“You practiced,” he says again, but this time it’s not disbelief. It’s something closer to delight.

“While you were away, yeah.” you repeat, gentler.

He glances at the sim again, then back to you, voice almost reverent. “You used my rig.”

“Every day.”

He narrows his eyes. “Did you change the settings?”

“I never touched your settings,” you say quickly, hands raised in mock surrender. “I'm not suicidal.”

Max laughs, breathless. “Holy shit.”

You grin, smug. “Wanna see how good I am?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he reaches out and cups your face in his hands, his touch suddenly soft, steady.

“You’re insane,” he murmurs, eyes searching yours.

“Thank you,”

“I love it.” He pauses, then adds, quieter now, “And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel bad. I was just messing around, but if I made you feel silly—”

“You didn’t,” you say, but he presses on, voice rougher now.

“I love you and I love that you care about something I care about. That you even tried. That means more than you think.”

Your cheeks flush, but you lean into his touch, heart thudding.

“Maybe I wanted to impress you,” you admit.

He grins. “Well consider me impressed. And slightly terrified.”

You laugh. “Terrified?”

Max kisses your forehead. “Yeah. If you’re this good already, you’re gonna start beating my lap times soon.”

He pauses after that, smile softening, something quieter flickering behind his eyes. Pride. Admiration. Maybe even awe.

Then, without a word, he takes your hand and pulls you gently up. He slides into the rig like it’s second nature then reaches for you again, tugging you back down into his lap. His arms wrap securely around your waist, chin settling on your shoulder.

“You know,” he murmurs, voice low and lazy against your neck, “we should do a proper race. Side by side. Full setup. Winner picks dinner for a week.”

You raise a brow, fighting your smile. “You sure? I am pretty good now.”

“I’ll just punt you into turn one,” he says, without an ounce of shame.

You gasp, dramatic. “Cheater.”

“Champion,” he corrects with a wink, far too pleased with himself.

You laugh, loud and honest, your head tipping back against his shoulder. The sound vibrates between you, soft and full of affection. You don’t move right away content to just sit there, cocooned in the moment. The hum of the rig beneath you, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your back, the smell of his shampoo and the way he still hasn’t stopped touching you.

Maybe it started as a joke. A way to prove something to yourself.

But now?

Now it’s just another thing you love doing together. Another reason to love him. Another way he loves you.

Taglist: @shigarika @bunnisplayground @thecoolpotatohologram @ymrereads @alexxavicry @gigglepre @esw1012 @satorinnie @percysaidnever @osclerc @sainzluvrr @autumn242 @shadowreader07 @joyfulpandamiracle @inmynotes63 @athanasia-day @embonbon @waterdeeply @shadowsoundeffects13 @fastandcurious16 @odegaardlia @skzvibes-blog @iambored24601 @e10owmaks @painfromblues @brokenvines-wiltingflowers @leto-twins-3107 @rxx-eegh @treatallwithkindness @lewishamiltonismybf @mara1999 @armystay89 @ramonaflwsr @zazima @valevv30 @mischiefmxnxgedhp @yoonessa @wordskeeper @freyathehuntress @brumstappen @irenkaproszepana @butterkaput @lenamds @blueskies4everxo

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Remmick x reader, established relationship, NSFW

Where Remmick returns home from a hunt still filled with adrenaline/bloodlust. So he seeks out reader but finds them fast asleep, still filled with hunger he decides to help himself to a meal 😋

I mean reader wouldn’t mind being woken up to some crazy head right? Basically somnophilia lmao

Gender neutral pronouns but afab if that’s okay :)?

Have a great day/night!

Midnight hunger||Remmick x Reader

Warning—Established relationship | AFAB reader | Gender-neutral pronouns Somnophilia kink | Vampire feeding kink | Oral (AFAB receiving) | Slight bloodplay | Consent within established trust | 18+ | Somnophilia | Oral (AFAB receiving) | Vaginal sex | Vampire feeding kink | Bloodplay | Biting/marking | Possessive!Remmick | Praise + feral energy | Slight breeding kink if you squint | 18+

Taglist - @abriefnirvana

The door creaked open just after midnight, hinges groaning under the weight of centuries and storms. Remmick stepped into the manor, boots silent on ancient floors despite the weight of blood on him fresh and hot, still drying on his lips and jaw. His pupils were blown wide, irises glowing faintly in the dark, wild with the rush of the hunt. He hadn’t fed enough. Not really. Not in the way he needed.

The bloodlust still clawed at his insides.

His nose twitched. Your scent warm and familiar called to him stronger than anything else ever could. You were asleep. He could hear your breath from the hallway, steady and soft. The thud of your heart, even slower.

He could picture you already, tangled in the sheets, mouth slack with dreams. Vulnerable. Soft.

His hunger flared.

He didn’t bother undressing. The hunt still clung to his skin, dried blood painting his throat like a collar. His hand trailed along the doorway as he entered the bedroom, eyes locked on your sleeping form. Peaceful. Unaware.

Perfect.

He knelt beside the bed, silent as shadow, exhaling slowly. The scent of you hit him hard, thick and sweet between your thighs, and his fangs ached in his mouth. He didn’t speak. Didn’t dare wake you. You’d told him once half-lidded and gasping that you liked it when he didn’t ask. When he took. When you woke up to pleasure instead of words.

His mouth watered.

He peeled the covers away, slow, reverent. Pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee, trailing warmth up the length of your thigh. You stirred faintly nothing more than a sigh. He bit back a growl.

His hands were cold when they parted your thighs, but his breath was warm. So warm. And then-

God, his tongue.

He licked through your folds like he was starving, like you were the only salvation left in the world. Broad, hungry strokes, nose buried in your scent, lips sealing around your clit with a groan that vibrated through your whole body. You shifted, twitching awake, confusion melting into a moan.

“Remmick—” your voice was hoarse, sleep-rough, almost questioning.

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t say a word.

He only held your thighs open tighter, tongue fucking into you like he was trying to consume you from the inside out, as if pleasure was a ritual and you were the altar. His fangs grazed your skin, sharp and teasing, not enough to break—not yet. Not until you were writhing, grinding into his face with broken little whimpers and hands clutching his curls.

When you came, he moaned against you like he was tasting holy water, mouth flooded with slick and the faintest edge of blood where his fangs had finally, finally pressed too deep.

He licked it up like sin.

And only then, lips glossy, eyes fevered, did he crawl up your body to whisper against your neck, voice still thick with need:

“Good evenin’, my love. Miss me?”

You barely had time to catch your breath before he was on you his body caging yours, still fully dressed, soaked in the scent of the night. His thighs slotted between yours, forcing your legs wider, and the hard line of his cock pressed against your sensitive cunt through layers of dark, worn fabric.

Your hips bucked instinctively. Still oversensitive. Still needy.

Remmick growled, low and delighted, fangs flashing in the moonlight slanting through the cracked window. His voice was wrecked with restraint, like he was holding himself back by threads.

“Y’have no idea what seein’ you like this does to me,” he rasped, nuzzling into your neck, breath hot where it ghosted across your skin. “Laid out, slick and warm from my mouth… beggin’ without even speakin’.”

His hand slid down your body, calloused palm rough and grounding. He didn’t bother undressing you. Just hiked your nightshirt up around your waist and freed himself from his trousers, his cock heavy and hard as sin, leaking against your inner thigh.

“Still hungry,” he murmured like a confession like a threat.

He sank into you in one, slow thrust, stealing the air from your lungs. Stretching you full. Familiar. Possessive. You clawed at his back, dragging him closer.

He didn’t move.

Not yet.

Instead, he pressed his lips to the column of your throat, where your pulse fluttered beneath your skin. You could feel the heat of his tongue, the scrape of fangs, the way he trembled with the effort not to bite too soon.

“Can I, sweet thing?” he whispered. “Give me a little taste. Just ‘nough to make this last…”

You nodded, dazed and open, giving yourself freely. His name fell from your lips like prayer.

He bit.

It wasn’t gentle.

You felt the puncture sharp and possessive and the moan he let out as he started to feed sent a shiver through your whole body. Pleasure lanced through you, tangled with pain and adoration and need.

Remmick moved then. Thrusting into you with the desperation of something starved, wild, half-mad with lust and blood and love. Every stroke dragged against that perfect spot, filling you deep, his mouth still latched to your throat like you were his and only his.

“Such a sweet little thing,” he murmured between gulps, voice thick, reverent. “Letting me fuck you ‘n feed on you like this… You don’t even know what you do to me.”

You were trembling under him, crying out, nails raking down his back as the pressure built and broke—your orgasm ripping through you with raw, shuddering intensity.

Remmick didn’t stop.

Not until he felt you milk him, fluttering and soaked and spent. Not until he spilled inside you with a broken groan against your skin, hips grinding in like he could bury himself even deeper.

He licked the blood from your neck with slow, tender laps, savoring every drop, before finally pulling back to look at you.

Eyes blown wide. Hair a mess. A lazy, satisfied grin curving his stained mouth.

“My heart,” he purred, brushing your sweat-damp hair back. “You’re so good to me. Gonna keep wakin’ you like this every time the bloodlust hits. Reckon it’s the only thing that truly settles me.”