#i’m more than happy to explain my point to you but pls do not come to my inbox hoping to educate me how poc ppl feel

[saetoru]

About that entitled ass post about x reader, op was definitely wrong but a small point was made.

I agree with your response but I'd like to add that, unless you've stated that certain characteristics or features will be present in reader, certain kinds of ambiguity is necessary, especially in appearance.

To make a character completely void of any backstory or personality is just bad writing period but to add an appearance is a little ...

As a black reader, reading about certain things that are supposed to reflect the reader is genuinely disheartening. I'm talking about things like referencing imagery of lighter skin (such as refering to readers skin as pink, pale, creamy, etc) or something like a character running their fingers through the reader's hair or having a hair washing routine that can be done in the time it takes to have a regular shower. I know with people with big bodies, having descriptions of small, light bodies is also disheartening.

Bc, once again, unless it's been stated that those are a part of reader's appearance, it's a little unnecessary bc it shows that although it's x reader it's definitely not for us.

I don't expect writers to write about specific events or characteristics about different cultures and such bc that can also go south REAL quick if you aren't properly educated or aware but a little diversity never hurt anyone

I know that some people do this out of genuine dislike of darker skinned/bigger people but I know most people do it out of genuine ignorance.

Unfortunately, you cannot bring up including people who don't fit typical beauty standards (pale/light skinned, long straight hair, thin/slim bodies) without people telling you that not everyone has to cater to you.

But the thing is, we're not asking you to cater to us; we're just asking you to include us in your vision of reader. You don't need to add specifics of everything regarding different races or cultures but you don't need to add specifics that exclude them.

And then when we go to create our own stories that do envision us, we're met with so much hatred and backlash about it like that one deleted comment on op's post.

I'm sorry for ranting about this but it so frustrating sometimes when people don't understand this. I brought up something similar to this topic once before and got death threats in my mentions for weeks (that's why this is anonymous)

ALSO, I'm not accusing you of any of the things I've mentioned in this ask. Based on what I've read from your work so far, the reader is actually someone you can enjoy reading about without feeling excluded when appearances are mentioned

Btw I adore your rich boy gojo series and would love to continue reading your work ❤️

im afraid you missed my main point and also, u are talking to someone who is literally a POC so i am definitely not in need of a rundown of how important it is to write reader in a manner that does not perpetuate western beauty standards. writing a reader that is inclusive for people in a manner that doesn't solidify western norms is important, but writing a reader that is an all encompassing fit all type of thing in terms of personality and decision making is not

its not that their point ab mistagged gn! readers and white/western physical features weren't valid—it was, but it was sprinkled in their main point that writing reader with personality is an oc and is not belonging in the tags and writers should focus on writing generic hcs instead. they used the issue of race and gender and other minoroties to support their idea that readers have to be ambiguous from all fronts, and that is a very twisted way to use actual real issues to justify your tantrums ab not liking dialogue or what the reader chose to do. my point that i was trying to make is that writers are entitled to write however they please as long as they tag what features of reader are set there. if they mistag that, then yes, that is something you should bring to their attention (politely) because then it misleads ppl to think this fic includes them. but that also is not done through a rant in the tags because that does not belong in the tags

quite frankly, to pair racial and gender representation issues as comparable to not aligning with the choices a reader takes to develop as a character and to put those two on the same boat takes away from the issue of inclusivity. inclusivity of a reader does NOT equal to how they think, process, feel, and progress in the storyline. not fitting in with the actual character of reader is incomparable to racial representation issues and misgendering tags and etc. the latter are REAL issues. the first is simply complaining bc u did not see urself in a plot

the actual problem with their rant was that they were using REAL issues to justify entitled complaining and that is why i did not validate them in that. yes writing reader as white and not tagging it is an issue. yes giving little to no thought to poc readers in writing is an issue. yes mistagging something as gn! while using gendered terms is an issue. but they should not be the backbone to an entirely different argument that essentially censors people

[moonstruckme]

sobbed at my work today because a higher up basically shot down all my ideas to shadow another department because my reasons weren’t good enough. wanting to learn is good enough thank u. (i have like 5 pages worth of reasons btw. in mla format…). feeling better now cuz his reputation is shit apparently but if you have time, could you write something like this with maybe sirius or remus? ur choice. pls don’t be pressured to write.

on the other note ur fics always cheer me up so thank you for your service! 🫡

I'm sorry you felt so put out lovely! Hope you're feeling a bit better now, thanks for requesting <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 748 words

You can tell Remus knows from the moment you get home. He sits up in his chair and watches you with sad eyes as you take off your shoes. You must be radiating defeat. 

“Hi,” he says gently. “How’d it go?” 

“We’re not doing it.” 

“Any of it?” 

You shake your head, sullen. 

Your boyfriend gives you a pitying look. “Oh, lovely. Come here.” 

You’re determined not to cry while you go. Not at Remus’ sympathetic tone, or the concerned little dent between his eyebrows, or the stapled pages of bullet points you leave sitting uselessly on the floor by your bag. You breathe slow and controlled as Remus folds you into his side and ignore the heat in your sinuses. 

He kisses your cheek, rubbing it gently with his thumb. 

“What?”

“Did you have a cry earlier?” Remus murmurs. At your questioning look, he explains, “There’s a bit of makeup on your cheek.” 

Your eyes fill up quick and hot. So much for not crying. “I thought I got it all off.” Your voice comes out a jagged squeak. You bury your face in Remus’ jumper. 

“Dovey, it’s okay. It’s hardly anything.” His hand covers your nape, thumb stroking the baby hairs at the base of your head. “What happened, hm?” 

“It was so—so embarrassing,” you sniffle. The words jolt out of you in short hiccups. “He made me feel stupid for even asking. He said none of my reasons were good enough.” 

“None of them? Did he read them all?” 

“He barely looked.” 

There’s a pause, then a small bounce underneath you. You wait for your boyfriend to respond, presumably with sympathy or some thought about how you might be more persuasive on your next attempt. It takes you a handful of seconds to register that Remus is laughing. Breathy, poorly suppressed little chuckles that shake his frame beneath you. 

You sit up to look at him, bemused and maybe a little wounded. He pulls you back in with a hand on your head. 

“Sorry. God, I’m sorry.” Remus kisses your head, still snickering. “I’m just trying to picture this man—you said he was in his forties, yeah? So a man nearly twice your age, needing to put down the low-ranking employees at his work just to make himself feel big.” 

You frown at him. “What do you mean?” 

“I just…” Remus’ tongue pokes into his cheek, a sure sign that he’s trying to keep a much larger grin at bay. “He’s so clearly jealous of you.” 

You feel your eyebrows shoot up. You sit up again, and this time Remus lets you, his hand dropping to your hip. “Of me,” you repeat. You tend to consider your boyfriend rather insightful for a man, but you think he may have finally lost it. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” Remus squeezes your side. His look softens. “I just don’t think your boss’ actions really speak to someone who’s secure and happy with himself, or with his life. He’s a rank above you at a job he’s worked far longer than you have. Meanwhile, you’re younger, and tenacious, and you clearly have all these great ideas. It seems to me like he’s threatened by you.” 

“Oh,” you murmur. “That’s quite sad, actually.” 

“Didn’t you say he was a bellend?” 

Your lips twitch. “I said my coworker said he was a bellend.” 

“Mm, even so. I can’t muster up very much sympathy for him.” Remus kisses the corner of your lips that had moved. “He made my girl cry, so.” 

Your amusement shrivels at the memory. “It really was embarrassing,” you say quietly. Remus looks into your eyes, his own warm and sweet as honey. “I mostly cried in the bathroom, but some people saw.” 

Remus wipes the dampness from your lashes with the tip of his finger. His hand coasts down the slope of your neck to your shoulder and back up again, soothing. “Everyone there knows your boss is an arse,” he tells you. “More importantly, they know you’re smart and that you work hard. I’m sure they riddled out what happened, sweetheart.” 

You press your lips together to keep from crying again. Remus tsks. 

“Even if this bloke is threatened by how good you are, you’re still all those things. It’ll pay off.” 

“You don’t have to say that,” you whisper. 

“I don’t,” Remus agrees. “It will, though. Not every boss you have will be as dense as this one, lovely. It’ll pay off eventually.”

[classfelidae]

ETIQUETTE

If you were tagged it’s just a shoutout, don’t panic XD

Hi all, I wanted to make this post to set some gentle boundaries when it comes to my au.

I’ve had a few interactions like this now, and I’d rather make a post explaining my boundaries to prevent it from happening more.

This is not directed at one specific person. It has happened a few times with different people. I may reference experiences but the post in general isn’t directed.

Okay, to the point. Please do not make unsolicited comments criticising my designs/animal pick for characters. Especially if it’s a finished design. If you’re not happy with my choices, you have free will- pick up a pencil and make your own.

This includes backhanded compliments such as “this is cool, but I’d prefer if they were a ___” and “I’ll only see (character) as an (animal) but…”

While they may not be intended as such, these come off as rude and really hurt my feelings. You may know by now that I put a lot of thought and effort into every single design I’ve put out.

There are multiple factors, not just their personality and their looks. I take into consideration the dynamics they have with other characters, their behaviour, the way they move, their trap, etc. Some characters are designed with an overarching motif, for example, Wrath of the Gods (ty to the ppl who corrected me) are based on street animals, vermin, and each character will fall into that category. Adam and Lawrence? Cat and dog dynamic. Hoffman and Strahm? Competitors. Biological enemies. You get the gist.

Either way, I care a lot about my designs and for someone to invalidate them blatantly does hurt my feelings! And it does stick in my head for a while. In short, think about what you’re typing before you hit send. It may mean nothing to you but I assure you it means something to me.

If I am looking for advice on a characters design, I’ll ask for it! Suggestions on these posts are okay! As well as on concept sketches of a new design.

Hoffman was actually down to a vote on my Instagram!

My asks are also open for anyone curious about lore and why I picked an animal for a character etc.

I love talking about it so please ask me!! If I don’t respond to your ask about a specific character it just means I don’t have art of them yet, please don’t think I’m ignoring you out of malice; I have a few asks I yearn to respond to in my inbox rn but I just need to draw something for em!

If you have said something like this and I ask you not to because it’s rude, please just apologise and promise you won’t do it again. Do not argue with me and make me feel stupid/belittle me for my boundaries. That adds salt into the wound and you will be blocked.

I will not dislike you or hate you for a misstep; it’s just about respecting me and my art.

On that note, I don’t condone people comparing my au to other animal AUs, or other artists in general. Do not tell another artist mine is better than theirs or vice versa. That is also rude and frankly, toxic. We are all human beings and deserve to be respected.

Having said all this, I want to say that if you have your own animal au; please don’t be scared to tell me about it! I love hearing and seeing others interpretations of the characters, all are valid in their own unique ways.

I also do not mind if you draw yours interacting with mine, in fact I love it! So don’t be scared to show me.

And lastly, I want to shout out some very cool people that also have animal aus for you all to enjoy!!

These guys are great and their art rocks. Please support them!

@ostendird-oddie

@eldritchx

@littlesapphicraccoonguy

@xxhamtubexx

@w0lfieisdrawing

@dragofelid

@voidfluid

@tatzlyip

(PS, if you were that person with an opossum Adam pls comment cuz I’ll put you here but I forgot ur username WAA)

[enemiestolovershoe]

Bandaged Hearts

Noah Sebastian x fem!reader

Summary: YN, a nurse, joins Bad Omens on tour and quickly finds herself patching up chaos. Especially when Noah keeps needing her help more than anything.

Words: 13.3k

Warnings: mention of blood and burn-out, noah crying a lot, smut p in v, oral male recieving, mention of alcohol and drunk people, probably wrong medical stuff

A/N: Some of you may know that I struggled with burn-out not long ago and wanted to write down my feelings in a story

Disclaimer: While the characters in this story are inspired by real people, the events and interactions are purely fictional and not reflective of reality.

When you decided to become a nurse after high school, you never imagined you’d one day find yourself on tour with four rock stars. Yet, somehow, here you were.

Bad Omens had decided they needed a nurse on tour. Mostly because Noah, along with the others had a bad habit of getting hurt during their Europe leg. In addition to that, there was an unusually high number of fans passing out at shows. Matt, their manager and sound engineer, figured it was time to bring someone along full-time. Someone they could trust.

And that’s where you came in.

You and Matt had known each other since high school. You weren't inseparable, but you'd been close once. Over the years, life got in the way, and your conversations had dwindled down to the occasional “Happy birthday” or “Hope you’re doing good” over DM. Nothing serious. So when Matt’s name popped up in your inbox one evening, it caught you completely off guard.

At first, you stared at the message for a solid five minutes, wondering if he sent it by mistake.

mattxdierkes: hey, random question. u still a nurse?

Your brows furrowed. Was he sick? Did he need help? You typed back, thumbs quick on the screen:

You: hey lol yeah i am. everything okay??

The typing bubble popped up immediately.

mattxdierkes: yeah! all good. actually, i might have a weird offer for you.

mattxdierkes: you busy for the next one and a half months?

You sat up a little straighter, heart kicking up.

You: uhh depends?? why?

mattxdierkes: wanna come on tour with me and bad omens? we need a nurse. for real lol.

You: wait WHAT??

mattxdierkes: seriously. think about it. it's chaos out here. noah’s been hurt like 5x already. fans are passing out left and right.

You laughed under your breath, already feeling the rush of adrenaline. Without thinking twice, you fired back:

You: YES. absolutely yes. get me out of this hospital pls.

Matt sent back a string of clapping emojis and a "let's goooo."

You weren’t exaggerating. You were desperate to get out of the hospital you were currently working at. The place was a mess. Short-staffed, overworked, and management was a nightmare. Touring with a rock band felt like a once-in-a-lifetime kind of escape.

And honestly? You needed it.

Which led you here, standing awkwardly at LAX next to the guys from Bad Omens, waiting for your flight to the first stop of the tour. Your suitcases, packed half with your own stuff and half with an overwhelming amount of medical supplies, getting a lot of suspicious looks from security.

A TSA agent flagged you down, pointing at your gear. “What exactly are you transporting, miss?”

You fumbled to pull out your hospital badge. “I’m a registered nurse," you explained quickly. "I’m touring with a band. It's all first aid stuff, I swear.”

The agent wasn’t impressed. "We're going to have to check everything manually."

Cue you, practically begging, “Please, I have to have this. I can show you everything. I’ll unpack it here if you want. Just, please, don’t throw anything away.”

Luckily, after what felt like a lifetime and some intense pleading, they let you through. You shuffled back over to where the band was lounging near the gate.

Noah, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a hoodie pulled low over his eyes, looked up and smirked. "That took forever. Are you smuggling something in a portable hospital or something?"

You rolled your eyes, dropping into a seat beside Matt. "If you keep getting hurt, you're gonna thank me for every Band-Aid in those bags."

Jolly, who was scrolling on his phone, glanced up and grinned. "She’s right. Noah’s a walking disaster."

Matt chuckled, bumping your shoulder with his. "Told you we needed her."

Bryan, sipping a coffee, added, “Just wait till Tomorrow. You haven't seen chaos yet.”

You laughed, already feeling strangely at ease with them.

The flight itself was long but mostly uneventful. You spent most of it flipping through your notes, double-checking that you had packed everything you'd need. When you finally landed and made your way out to the tour buses, you expected to be loaded onto one with the rest of the crew. Other techs, assistants, security. Instead, Matt threw his arm around your shoulders and steered you towards a different bus. “You’re with us,” he said simply.

You blinked. “Wait, with you? Like... with the band?”

Matt laughed. “Yeah. Better to have you close. Trust me, they’re gonna need you."

You climbed aboard, a little stunned, and found a spot by the window. The bus was nicer than you’d expected. Still cramped, but cozy, lived-in. Guitars leaned against the walls. There were random shoes, hoodies, and open bags scattered around. It smelled like cologne and Red Bull.

As the sun dipped lower over the Colorado landscape, painting the sky in oranges and pinks, you settled in, staring out the window in awe.

You didn’t get long to soak it in.

"Uh, nurse!"

You turned to see Noah jogging toward you, clutching his nose, blood streaming down his upper lip.

You scrambled up. "What the hell happened?!"

He grinned sheepishly, blood smeared across his teeth. "Got hit in the face with a soccer ball. Bryan’s got a hell of a kick."

You burst out laughing despite yourself. “Wow, that was fast. Matt didn’t lie about you being a magnet for disaster.”

Noah wiped his hand on his hoodie. "Yeah, well... consider this your welcome gift."

You ushered him over to a bench, pulling out your kit like second nature. "Sit. Tilt your head forward. Not back, you’ll swallow it."

He obeyed, and you expertly pinched the bridge of his nose, grabbing gauze from your bag. “You think you broke it?” you asked, examining the angle.

"Nope. Still pretty," Noah said, grinning at you under his hands.

You rolled your eyes. "Debatable."

Nicholas came up behind him, laughing. "Five minutes on the road and you’re already getting patched up. New record, man."

Jolly leaned against the doorframe, watching. "Should we start a bet? How many times Noah ends up in her care before the tour’s over?"

Matt clapped his hands together. "I’m saying... twenty."

“Twenty?” you gasped, laughing as you taped gauze under Noah’s nose. “You think he’s gonna survive twenty incidents?”

Matt winked. “Optimism, baby.”

Once Noah was fixed up, he sprinted off after the others like nothing happened, yelling about a rematch.

You shook your head, chuckling, wiping your hands with sanitizer. “I’m gonna need hazard pay,” you muttered.

Matt dropped into the seat next to you, tossing you a water bottle. “You’re gonna need a vacation after this tour.”

As the bus rumbled to life and pulled onto the highway, you leaned back, heart hammering in a mix of excitement and nerves. Tomorrow was the first show. You couldn’t lie. You were thrilled... but also kind of terrified.

You’d heard most Bad Omens fans were incredible. Sweet, loyal, passionate.

But you’d also heard the horror stories. The ones who crossed the line. Who could get a little too intense.

You swallowed hard, trying not to overthink it. You were here for a reason. You could handle it.

Before you could spiral into anxiety, the steady hum of the bus and the exhaustion from the day caught up with you, and you drifted off to sleep with the Colorado sunset burning behind your eyelids.

May 4th, 2023. Greenwood Village, CO

It was the first night of the US leg of the tour.

The show had just ended, and the air was thick, electric with adrenaline, sweat, and that heady buzz that only comes after a live show. Voices echoed in the distance, roadies shouting instructions, the hum of equipment being packed up filling the background.

You were near the stairs, crouched down, carefully repacking your first aid kit. All in all, it hadn’t been a bad night. Only two fans had fainted. Way less than you had mentally prepared for.

You blew out a quiet breath, feeling the tension slowly start to leave your body. Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be as crazy as you thought.

But then you heard it.

Folio's voice was sharp and low. Cutting through the noise.

"Noah, dude. Are you fucking bleeding?"

Your head snapped up so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash, the ice pack you were holding slipping from your hand and hitting the ground with a soft thud.

The others turned too. Jolly, who had been laughing with Nicholas a second earlier, immediately went serious. Bryan swore under his breath and started making his way over. Matt was already striding across the floor with a grim look on his face.

You rushed forward, your heart hammering against your ribs.

Noah was limping slightly, the hem of his shirt torn and stained dark. A deep, ugly gash ran along his left side just under his ribs. Blood was soaking through the fabric, the red spreading fast, and though his face was mostly stoic, you caught the tightness around his mouth, the way his jaw was clenched.

"What the fuck happened?" you demanded, pulling on gloves as you closed the distance.

Noah gave a lopsided shrug, the movement making him wince. "Crowd was fucking insane. I went down to the barricade and..."

He hissed as you pulled the hem of his shirt up to inspect the damage.

"Someone had sharp rings or something. I don't know," he gritted out.

"Jesus, Noah," you muttered under your breath, already reaching for antiseptic.

You eased him down into a nearby folding chair, steadying him with a hand on his good side. He sank into it with a grunt, his fingers curling tightly around the seat.

As you peeled the bloodied fabric back more, you got a better look at the wound. It was deep. Deeper than you’d hoped.

"This needs stitches," you said, your voice firm.

Noah tensed the second the antiseptic touched the wound, a sharp breath hissing through his teeth.

"I’ll be fine," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "Just slap a Band-Aid on it."

You shot him a look so sharp it could cut through steel. "Yeah, not happening."

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, cocky and stubborn as ever. But the pain was starting to show through now, flashing in his eyes when he thought no one was looking.

"Stay still," you ordered, reaching for your suture kit.

Around you, the other guys hovered. Nicholas running a hand through his hair, looking stressed. Folio pacing a few steps away, muttering curses. Jolly standing silently with his arms crossed, his brow furrowed in worry. Matt leaned against the wall nearby, arms folded, watching with a grim set to his mouth.

"You need to be more careful," you muttered under your breath as you threaded the needle, your fingers steady despite the adrenaline thrumming through you.

"Some of your fans are sweet," you said, glancing up at him as you tied off the thread. "Some of them are psychos."

Noah chuckled low in his throat, though it quickly morphed into a grimace of pain.

"Please," he said, gritting his teeth as you pushed the needle through his skin, "you sound like Matt now."

Matt snorted in the corner, shaking his head. "Because I'm right."

You focused on your work, the neat, practiced rhythm of stitching. "You keep playing tough with them, you’re gonna run out of skin to patch," you said under your breath.

Noah was quiet for a second.

Then, softer, he said, "Good thing I’ve got you then."

You felt your face heat up slightly, but you didn’t let it show. You just smirked a little to yourself, tying off the last stitch with a neat knot.

Behind you, Matt groaned dramatically. "Oh my God. I’m gonna puke," he said, rolling his eyes so hard you were sure he saw his own brain.

Nicholas barked out a laugh, and even Jolly cracked a smile.

You sat back, snapping your gloves off with a satisfied little pop.

"There," you said, giving Noah a pointed look. "You're patched up. Try not to get stabbed again for at least twenty-four hours."

Noah grinned at you, lopsided and a little too charming for someone who was literally dripping blood a few minutes ago.

"No promises," he said.

Matt muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "fucking idiot," under his breath, but there was no real heat behind it.

You grabbed fresh gauze and tape, wrapping Noah's side carefully while the others started gathering their stuff for load-out.

The adrenaline was still buzzing in your veins, but under it, there was something else too.

Something steady.

A feeling that maybe, just maybe, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

May 6th, 2023. Atlantic City, NJ

Two days later, chaos found you again.

The bus door slammed open with a loud bang, rattling against the hinges. You jerked your head up from where you were sitting, surrounded by a mess of supplies. You were halfway through reorganizing your gear case.

Noah stumbled inside, grinning like an absolute maniac, breathing hard like he’d just sprinted across the lot.

"Yo!" he gasped, practically bouncing on his heels.

You narrowed your eyes immediately, already suspicious. "What?" you asked, your voice wary.

Noah didn’t say anything right away. He just lifted his shirt.

Your stomach dropped.

Three of the stitches you had so carefully placed had split open. Blood welled up, fresh and vivid, a dark smear against the pale skin of his side.

"Noah..." you groaned, your voice filled with exhausted disbelief.

He winced, but still somehow managed to look smug. "I was just messing around with Nick and Jolly," he said, like that somehow made it better. "Someone shoved me."

You dropped your forehead briefly into your hand, inhaling deeply before forcing yourself into motion.

"You're unbelievable," you muttered, already snapping on a pair of gloves and grabbing fresh gauze from your kit.

Noah flopped down onto the couch with a dramatic sigh, spreading his arms over the back like he hadn’t just reopened a literal wound.

"You need to be more careful, Noah," you said, voice sharper now as you knelt beside him.

He shrugged one shoulder, the motion stiff. "It didn’t hurt at first," he admitted, watching you work.

"That's because you're running on fumes and pure stubbornness," you said, pressing gauze firmly against the bleeding. He winced but didn’t pull away.

This time, the mood shifted.

Noah grew quieter, less cocky. The air between you softened, humming with something you didn’t dare name yet.

He watched you from under his lashes as you cleaned the wound carefully. His voice, when he spoke next, was softer. Almost shy.

"I like it when you fix me up," he said, almost whispering.

Your hands faltered for a fraction of a second before you quickly busied yourself threading the needle again.

"Stop needing to be fixed," you muttered back, not daring to meet his eyes.

You placed the last stitch with careful, practiced movements, tying it off neatly. You grabbed a large band-aid from your kit and smoothed it over the fresh stitches with a gentle touch.

Just as you were finishing, the bus door swung open again.

Matt stepped inside, sunglasses perched on his head, a coffee in one hand and pure exasperation written all over his face.

"Seriously, Noah? Again?" Matt said, staring at the scene like he was physically in pain.

Noah immediately pointed an accusing finger at the empty air behind Matt. "Nicolas shoved me!" he blurted defensively.

Matt snorted, completely unimpressed. "Yeah, and I'm sure you were being a perfect angel, huh?"

Noah grinned wide, still unapologetic.

Matt turned his gaze to you, raising his coffee cup slightly in salute. "Well, Y/N, good thing I brought you along," he said, shaking his head with a laugh.

You finished taping down the bandage and sat back on your heels, glaring playfully at Noah.

"At this rate," you said dryly, "I'm gonna need a punch card for every time I patch him up. Free coffee on your tenth visit or something."

Matt laughed, ruffling Noah’s hair roughly as he walked by.

"Just try not to need a full body cast before the end of the week, alright?" Matt called over his shoulder as he disappeared toward the back of the bus.

Noah looked down at you, a lazy smile pulling at his mouth, the trouble still glittering behind his eyes.

"No promises," he said, his voice low and teasing.

You shook your head at him, trying and failing to hide the little smile tugging at your lips as you began cleaning up your supplies again.

May 12th, 2023. Oklahoma City, OK

It started subtly.

At first, you almost missed it.

Noah still laughed, but a little less each day. His smile was still there too, but it no longer touched his eyes.

He pounded back energy drinks like they were oxygen, but his untouched plates after catering told a different story.

The dark circles under his eyes deepened, blooming like bruises only you seemed to notice.

So you started watching him. Closer.

During soundcheck, you kept your gaze on him between pretending to organize your kit.

Backstage, when the others joked and killed time, you caught him zoning out.

Even during the shows, when you usually hung out by the side of the stage, half-watching, half-on alert for emergencies. Your eyes always found him.

You saw it happen once. Just once.

A missed cue.

No one said anything, and the fans probably didn’t notice.

But you caught the way his whole body stiffened, the way his jaw clenched like he was trying to hold in a scream.

You didn’t say anything then. Not yet.

Tonight wasn’t any different.

Noah hadn’t eaten a single thing all day.

You noticed.

And from the look Jolly shot him as they prepped for the show, you knew he noticed too.

"Yo, dude. You good?" Jolly asked, keeping his voice casual but his eyes sharp. He was standing a few feet away, bass slung over his shoulder, adjusting his strap absently.

Noah barely looked up from where he was tuning his mic.

"You look like you haven't slept in like a month," Jolly added, his tone light but his frown deepening.

"I'm fine," Noah said immediately, a little too fast, a little too sharp.

You crossed your arms, leaning against a case of cables.

"You've said that every day," you muttered under your breath, not even bothering to mask the doubt in your voice.

For the first time, Noah really looked at you.

There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes, like he hadn’t expected you to call him out. Like he hadn’t realized you'd been watching him this closely.

But he didn’t say anything.

He just smiled, the corners of his mouth twitching up automatically, but it didn’t even come close to reaching his eyes.

You caught Folio’s eye across the room as he slipped his sticks into his back pocket.

He gave you a small nod, subtle but clear. He saw it too.

"Watch him tonight," Folio said quietly, lowering his voice as he moved closer to you. His shoulder brushed yours briefly, grounding you in the buzzing chaos of the backstage area.

"He's burnin' at both ends," Folio murmured, his eyes following Noah’s hunched figure as he adjusted his mic stand again, like if he just tweaked it a little more, maybe everything else would fall into place too.

You nodded slowly, feeling that same knot tighten in your chest.

"He’s been like that for a while now," Folio added, his voice almost lost under the thrum of bass leaking from the stage monitors.

You stayed quiet for a moment, watching Noah’s hands tremble slightly as he tightened a strap that didn’t need tightening.

Something had to give.

You just hoped you noticed before it did.

May 17th, 2023. Birmingham, AL

The venue was pure chaos.

Crew members shouted over each other, cables snaked like vines across the floor, and Matt was in the center of it all, pacing back and forth with his headset slipping off one ear, practically vibrating with frustration.

"I swear, if this rig doesn’t work..." Matt barked into his iPad, jabbing at the screen like it personally offended him. His voice was sharp, his free hand tugging at his hair as he disappeared backstage again, still muttering threats under his breath.

You caught Noah sitting off to the side, slouched deep into the corner of a battered leather couch, a strange calm settled over him.

Too calm.

You made your way over, weaving through the equipment cases and stressed-out techs, and dropped down beside him.

Without thinking, you reached out and ran your hand gently along his arm, grounding him, needing the contact almost as much as he did.

"Relieved?" you asked quietly, keeping your voice low so it wouldn’t get swallowed by the madness around you.

He shrugged, a hollow, almost resigned gesture.

"If we can’t play," he said, his tone light but empty, "I can’t fail tonight."

Your stomach twisted sharply.

"Noah..." you said, leaning in closer, wishing he would really hear you. "You don’t fail. You play your heart out. You are human, Noah."

He didn’t answer right away. His fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt, twisting the fabric like he needed something to do with his hands.

"Some nights," he finally said, voice low, almost like he was talking to himself, "it’s all muscle memory. I’m not even there anymore."

The admission hit you harder than you expected.

You wanted to say something. Anything. Anything to pull him back from wherever his mind was spiraling.

But before you could find the words, Matt stormed past again, looking like he was two seconds from throwing the iPad across the venue.

"We go live in twenty or we cancel!" Matt barked, whirling around. "I need a decision, Noah!"

Noah didn’t even flinch.

He just kept staring at the floor, like Matt’s voice was miles away.

He didn’t answer.

You bit your lip, heart pounding. You reached out again, this time catching his hand, lacing your fingers through his. You squeezed gently, trying to anchor him back to you, to now.

"Are you okay?" you asked, barely above a whisper.

For a second, he just looked at your hands, at the way your fingers were twined with his.

Then he lifted his gaze to yours.

All the walls he usually kept up. The jokes, the stubbornness, the cocky smiles. They were gone.

Just him. Raw. Tired. Frayed at every edge.

"No," he said quietly.

And the honesty in that one word nearly broke you.

May 18th, 2023. Chattanooga, TN

The day was brutal.

The kind of heat that clung to your skin like syrup, thick and heavy, making it hard to even think about moving.

It was 103 degrees outside and somehow even hotter inside the venue.

Everyone was soaked through, faces flushed, moving like they were dragging invisible weights behind them.

Everyone except Noah.

He tore around the place like a man possessed.

Running from soundcheck, to fan meet-and-greets, to helping the crew set up some lighting rig he probably had no business touching.

You watched him dart past again, carrying a case that looked twice his size, face red and sweat dripping down his neck. Like he thought if he just moved fast enough, he could outrun the exhaustion setting into his bones.

You snapped.

"Hydrate or I’m taping you to a chair!" you yelled, loud enough that a few heads turned.

Noah barely even slowed down.

He shot you a breathless grin over his shoulder.

"After the set!" he called back like it was a promise and not a blatant lie.

You let out a frustrated groan and turned, locking eyes with Jolly across the stage.

He gave you a look. One of those yep, he’s gonna crash and burn looks.

You returned it with a sharp nod.

Jolly wasn’t stupid. He knew it too.

Noah was running on empty, stubbornness, and whatever caffeine he could find lying around.

You pressed the heel of your hand to your forehead, feeling the heat and the headache building behind your eyes.

You needed to talk to Matt.

You wanted to talk to Matt.

You had tried, more than once.

But every time you cornered him. Backstage, by the bus, anywhere you could grab five minutes, something pulled him away.

A tech problem.

A schedule change.

Another fan emergency.

And meanwhile, Noah just kept pushing himself harder, burning brighter, burning faster.

You clenched your fists at your sides, watching him disappear into the maze of cables and crew.

You were running out of time to stop him before he finally broke.

After the final chord of the set rang out, the lights dropped, the roar of the crowd echoing through the venue like a heartbeat.

And so did he.

One second Noah was standing behind the curtain, the adrenaline still buzzing off him in waves.

The next, he crumpled to the floor.

For a moment, everything else stopped.

The world narrowed to a single point.

Folio was the first to move.

"Shit! Someone get over here!" he shouted, his drumsticks clattering to the ground as he dropped down beside Noah.

You sprinted across the stage, heart hammering against your ribs so hard it hurt.

"Hydration tab, now! Get water! Cold towels!" you barked, voice slicing through the confusion.

Jolly didn’t hesitate, bolting toward the coolers.

Nicholas was already shouting at the nearby staff, waving them frantically over.

You dropped to your knees beside Noah, hands moving without even thinking.

You pressed your palm to his cheek and forehead.

It was burning hot, skin flushed and damp with sweat.

"Noah," you whispered, leaning close. "Hey, come on, open your eyes."

Slowly, like it physically hurt him to do it, his eyelids fluttered.

Glassiness swam in his gaze as he tried to focus on you.

"Fuck..." he croaked, voice hoarse and ragged. "Did I pass out?"

You exhaled sharply, part relief, part frustration, part absolute panic.

"Yes, you did," you snapped, yanking a cold towel from Jolly’s hand the second he reappeared.

"And next time you ignore me," you added, pressing the towel to the back of Noah's neck, "I'm dragging you off stage myself."

A weak, lopsided smile ghosted across Noah’s lips.

"Can’t tell if you’re mad or worried," he muttered, trying to joke, but even that sounded strained.

"Both," you said, voice cracking despite yourself.

The tears stung the corners of your eyes but you blinked them back fiercely, refusing to lose it here.

You heard Matt cursing under his breath behind you but you barely registered anything except Noah.

He let his head loll back, breathing shallow and uneven, trusting you to put him back together again.

Back at the bus, you didn’t leave his side.

You hovered like a ghost, silently switching out cold towels, forcing him to sip water every twenty minutes, even when he tried to bat your hands away with sleepy protests.

Every time he drifted too far, every time his skin stayed too hot for too long, your chest tightened painfully.

You watched him carefully, the way someone watches something precious they are terrified of losing.

Because no matter how stubborn he was, no matter how much he tried to hide it...

Tonight proved it.

He wasn’t invincible.

May 19th, 2023. Asheville, NC

You couldn’t find Noah anywhere after the soundcheck.

It wasn’t like him to just vanish.

Not unless something was really wrong.

You asked around but no one had seen him.

Finally, Folio caught your sleeve as you passed, his face creased with worry.

"Check the hallway behind the storage crates," he said quietly. "He’s... he’s not doing great."

Your heart dropped.

You moved quickly, weaving past cases and gear and tangled cables until the hallway narrowed and dimmed.

And there he was.

Curled up in a corner, half hidden by towering crates, hoodie pulled up over his head like a shield.

His hands were trembling visibly.

His knees were drawn up to his chest, and his face was buried deep into his folded arms.

It looked like he wanted to disappear.

You sank slowly beside him, careful not to startle him.

"Hey..." you said softly.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t lift his head.

Didn’t even flinch.

"I brought snacks and sarcasm," you added, trying to coax a smile out of him. "Best of both worlds."

Still nothing.

The silence between you stretched long and thin.

You hesitated for a second, then reached out, placing your hand gently on his shoulder.

He flinched but didn’t pull away.

And then, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it, he whispered,

"I don’t feel like me anymore."

Your chest ached so fiercely it hurt to breathe.

You squeezed his shoulder, grounding him.

"You don’t have to feel okay all the time," you said, voice barely above a whisper.

"You just have to let someone in, Noah."

He finally lifted his head a little, just enough for you to see his face.

Red-rimmed eyes. Tear tracks glistening on flushed cheeks.

The kind of broken look that cracked you right down the middle.

"I’m fine," he rasped, but his voice was so raw, so hollow, it shattered the lie before it even finished leaving his mouth.

"You’re crying," you pointed out softly, not accusing, just stating the truth he didn’t want to admit.

He didn’t deny it.

Didn’t make some sarcastic remark to deflect.

He just wiped at his face angrily with the sleeve of his hoodie, like he could erase the weakness if he scrubbed hard enough.

"I don’t know how to keep up anymore," he whispered, voice cracking.

"Every night I feel like I’m falling apart. And I still go back out there... like it’s nothing. Like I’m supposed to pretend it doesn’t feel like everything inside me is breaking."

You slid closer, closing the distance between you until your knees bumped.

You didn’t say anything yet.

You just sat with him in the dark.

Letting him know he wasn’t alone.

He let out a shaky breath, hands digging into his hair, gripping it like he was trying to hold himself together by sheer force.

"It’s like... like no matter what I do, it’s never enough," he choked out.

"I scream my lungs out and I still wonder if they even hear me. I give everything and I still feel empty. I get up there every night and... it’s like... it’s like I’m screaming into a void that doesn’t care if I bleed."

The words tumbled out faster now, years of pressure cracking wide open.

His whole body was shaking.

You could see how hard he was trying not to completely fall apart.

But it was too much.

Finally, finally, the dam broke.

Noah pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, shoulders shaking with the force of the sobs he couldn’t hold back anymore.

Harsh, broken sounds ripped from his chest, and you didn’t hesitate. You pulled him into you, wrapping your arms around him tight, letting him bury his face into your shoulder.

"I’m right here," you murmured, rocking him slightly as he fell apart in your arms.

"You don’t have to do this alone. You’re not alone, Noah."

He clung to you like you were the only thing keeping him from falling through the cracks.

May 21st, 2023. Myrtle Beach, SC

Matt scratched the back of his neck, wincing like he was about to get punched.

"Okay, uh… so I messed up the hotel reservations," he said, not meeting your eyes.

You blinked at him.

Noah, standing beside you, crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

"How bad?" Noah asked flatly.

Matt grimaced. "You two have to share a room."

Noah's brow lifted higher, amused. "One bed?"

Matt nodded, looking thoroughly miserable. "Yeah. I booked a room too less. It’s either share or one of you sleeps in the hallway."

You exchanged a glance with Noah. He shrugged, not looking particularly bothered.

"Fine by me," he said, already grabbing his bag. "Not the weirdest thing that's happened this week."

Later that night, the room was quiet, save for the low hum of the air conditioner.

You lay in bed, facing the ceiling, your body exhausted but your mind buzzing.

Across from you, you heard Noah tossing and turning, the sheets rustling with every frustrated movement.

You turned your head toward him.

"Noah?" you whispered into the dark.

No answer.

Only the faintest sound of whimpering.

You sat up quickly, heart tightening painfully in your chest.

He was thrashing lightly, trapped somewhere deep inside a nightmare.

You reached out, gently placing your hand on his arm.

He jerked awake with a sharp gasp, body tensing under your touch. His eyes were wide and wild, chest heaving like he couldn’t get enough air.

"Hey, hey," you said softly, keeping your voice low and soothing. "It’s just me. You’re safe. I’m right here."

He blinked rapidly, trying to reorient himself.

Sweat clung to his forehead, and his whole body trembled.

"I’m here," you repeated, sliding a little closer so he could see you clearly. "You’re okay, Noah. It’s over."

He nodded shakily and laid back down, but you could still see the way his hands fisted into the sheets, how hard he was breathing like the fear hadn’t left him yet.

You hesitated, then asked gently, "Wanna talk about it?"

He didn’t answer right away.

For a moment, you thought he might brush it off like he usually did.

But then, voice rough and broken, he whispered,

"I dreamt... I dreamt that I was on stage and the lights were so bright, I couldn’t see. I kept singing but... no one was there. The whole place was empty."

You listened, heart breaking all over again.

"I screamed until my throat bled," he continued, voice cracking. "But there was just... silence. Nothing. No one cared. I was just... standing there, bleeding and screaming into nothing."

His voice broke completely then, a sharp, aching sound he couldn’t hide.

Tears slid down his cheeks, and he angrily wiped at them, frustrated at himself for crying.

Without thinking, you shifted closer and pulled him gently into your arms.

At first, he stiffened, like he wasn’t sure he deserved the comfort.

But then he sagged against you, all the fight draining from him.

You wrapped your arms tighter around him, letting him bury his face against your shoulder.

He clung to you like a lifeline, silent tears soaking into your shirt.

"I’ve got you," you murmured into his hair, one hand stroking slow, steady circles across his back.

"You’re not alone, Noah. You’re never alone."

He didn’t speak again.

Eventually, his breathing evened out, his body relaxing bit by bit as exhaustion pulled him under.

You stayed awake a while longer, holding him, making sure the nightmares stayed away.

May 23rd, 2023. Raleigh, NC

Noah had stormed off after the set, slipping away before anyone could stop him.

Now, hours later, the exhaustion was bone-deep.

You and Folio had spent the night combing the streets around the hotel, scanning alleys and bars and parking lots with growing desperation.

Jolly and Nicholas stayed back by the bus, just in case Noah circled back on his own.

Matt paced the hotel lobby, phone glued to his ear, barking into voicemails that never got answered.

By 2 AM, you and Folio finally dragged yourselves back to the lobby, shoulders slumped, defeated.

Matt sat hunched in an armchair, head buried in his hands. He looked up at the sound of the doors swinging open.

"Nothing?" Matt asked, voice raw.

You opened your mouth to answer, but the hotel door creaked again.

Everyone's head snapped toward the entrance.

Noah stood there.

Eyes glassy and distant.

Blood dripping from his hand.

His hoodie was half-off one shoulder, his knuckles scraped raw.

"Noah," you gasped, breaking into a sprint. You reached him first, hands hovering, unsure where to touch. "What did you do?"

He gave a crooked, exhausted smile.

"Got into a fight. With a wall. I think the wall won."

You turned sharply to look at Matt, then at Folio.

"Noah… are you drunk?" Matt asked carefully, stepping closer.

Noah shrugged, swaying slightly on his feet. "Maybe?"

Without another word, you took his arm. Gently but firmly and started leading him toward the elevators.

Matt and Folio were right behind you.

"I’m gonna text Jolly and Nicholas. Let them know we found him," Matt muttered, pulling out his phone.

In the elevator, the silence was heavy.

Noah leaned against the wall, eyes half-shut, a thin trail of blood still dripping onto the floor.

You squeezed his arm lightly, a silent reassurance.

Back in your hotel room, Noah slumped down at the end of the bed without needing to be told.

Folio dropped onto the mattress beside him, keeping a steady hand on Noah’s back to ground him.

Matt helped you drag out your medical kit, spreading gauze, antiseptic, and bandages across the desk.

"Alright, superhero," you said softly, kneeling in front of him. "Let’s see the damage."

You pulled a pair of gloves on and gently took his hand. His knuckles were split open, deep enough that the blood still oozed slow and steady.

You cleaned the wounds carefully, muttering soothing nonsense under your breath.

Noah hissed once when the antiseptic hit, but otherwise stayed quiet, gaze locked somewhere far away.

You stitched him up slowly, methodically, threading needle through torn skin while Folio kept a steadying hand on his shoulder.

You wrapped his hand tightly in clean bandages, smoothing the tape down with extra care.

Just as you were finishing the last knot, Noah’s voice broke the silence.

A whisper. Barely audible.

"I can't do this anymore."

Everything in the room froze.

Matt’s head snapped up. Folio’s hand stilled against Noah’s back.

You looked up at him, heart thudding.

Matt was the first to speak. "Do what?" he asked, voice rough with confusion.

Before Noah could choke out a reply, you answered for him, standing slowly, your hands trembling with the force of your emotions.

"Matt," you said sharply. "Don’t tell me you didn’t notice."

Matt blinked at you, confused and tired.

"Notice what?"

You turned, pointing gently toward Noah, who sat crumpled and small at the edge of the bed.

"Matt, he’s completely drained. Burned out. He needs to rest. He’s been running himself into the ground for weeks. And no one said anything."

As you spoke, Noah’s shoulders shook silently.

At first, none of you noticed.

But then Folio’s eyes widened slightly, and he reached out, pulling Noah into a side hug.

You dropped down in front of him again, placing your hands carefully on his upper arms, grounding him, anchoring him.

You could feel the way he trembled under your touch.

Silent tears streamed down Noah’s face, raw and unguarded.

He buried his head against Folio’s shoulder, his entire body curling in on itself like he was trying to disappear.

"Hey, Noah," you whispered, voice thick with emotion, "it’s gonna be okay. We’re here. You have us. You’re not alone."

Matt knelt down beside you, guilt etched deep into his face.

"Dude… I’m so sorry," Matt said hoarsely. "I didn’t notice. I should’ve seen it. I’m sorry, man."

Noah didn’t answer, just shook harder.

Matt reached out too, squeezing Noah’s other shoulder gently.

"We’ll figure something out," Matt promised quietly. "Together. I swear. You’re not gonna carry this by yourself anymore."

The four of you stayed like that for a long time.

No one in a rush to move.

No one willing to leave Noah alone in the dark again.

May 24th, 2023. Raleigh, NC

Matt had cleared Noah’s schedule for the day. No meet-and-greets, no soundcheck, no interviews. Just rest.

You were relieved. Honestly, both of you were. Noah had barely been holding it together lately, and today felt like a breath finally being let out.

Now, you sat side-by-side on the roof of the tour bus, lemon sodas sweating in your hands, the metal warm beneath you from the day’s heat. The sunset dripped pink and orange across the horizon, smearing the sky like someone had taken a paintbrush and dragged it carelessly. It was beautiful in that messy, aching kind of way.

Noah had slept nearly the whole day. He needed it, that was obvious. Even now, he still looked tired. His hair was messy, pushed back by the breeze, and he hadn't even bothered with shoes, just socks against the roof.

For a long time, you didn’t speak. The cicadas buzzed somewhere off in the trees, the distant hum of the city behind it. Noah tapped his thumb slowly against the side of his can, staring off at nothing.

Then, quietly, like he was almost afraid to say it aloud, he said,

"I’m feeling like I’m watching my dream rot."

You turned immediately, heart squeezing at the sound of his voice. The way it cracked slightly at the edges. He wasn’t looking at you; he was staring down into the opening of his soda can like it held the answers.

"I love this," he added after a second, almost like he had to defend himself. "I do. But... I’m crumbling."

You shifted closer without thinking, setting your can down with a soft clink against the metal. You reached for him, your fingers brushing against his knuckles first before you threaded your hand through his and squeezed gently. His skin was a little cool from the drink, but his grip tightened around yours immediately, like he’d been waiting for something to anchor him.

"Hey," you said softly, squeezing again until he finally looked at you. His eyes were tired, rimmed in faint red, but they were open. "You’re not crumbling. You’re tired. There’s a difference."

Noah let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh, but not quite.

"Feels the same," he muttered.

"It’s not," you insisted. "You’re not failing. You’re just... human. Even superheroes get tired, you know."

Noah smiled a little at that. Small, crooked. But it was the first real smile you’d seen from him all day.

"I don’t feel very super lately," he said, voice low. He leaned his head back until it rested lightly against your shoulder. You didn’t move, just adjusted slightly so he’d be more comfortable.

"You don’t have to be," you murmured, looking out at the sky as it deepened into darker pinks and purples. "You just have to be Noah. That’s more than enough."

He didn’t say anything for a moment. You felt the slow, steady pull of his breathing. The way he let himself be with you, no expectations, no pressure. Just the two of you, lemon sodas, and the endless Carolina sky above you.

"Thank you," he said finally, so soft you almost missed it.

You turned your head slightly, resting your cheek lightly against his hair. "Always."

Noah smiled again. Wider this time, the kind that touched his eyes and squeezed your hand back.

May 25th, 2023. Columbus, OH

The yelling echoed through the venue, sharp and unignorable even from the other side where you sat at your makeshift med station, repacking the first-aid supplies from the night before.

You didn’t need to hear every word to understand the heart of it. Voices cracking against the high ceilings, desperate and worn.

"Pressure,"

"Unfair,"

"Fucking tired."

The words carried like smoke, seeping through walls, curling around you even though you tried to focus on your work. You bit your lip, glancing toward the heavy curtains that separated you from the chaos.

Then. A shift.

The curtains stirred, and there he was.

Noah.

Eyes glassy, face pale, shoulders hunched in defeat like the weight of the whole world was tethered to his spine. He looked smaller than usual, like the fight had finally drained out of him.

"I didn’t know where else to go," he said, voice cracking halfway through.

You didn’t think. You dropped the gauze onto the table and immediately opened your arms.

He stumbled forward without hesitation, collapsing into you with the kind of force that made you take a step back to steady both of you. His forehead pressed against your shoulder, his arms wrapping around your waist like he was trying to hold himself together through sheer will.

You held him tightly, hands splayed across his back, anchoring him to you.

"I’m losing everyone," he whispered, the words trembling against your skin.

You shook your head, speaking firmly even though your heart was breaking for him.

"You haven’t lost me," you said, brushing your hand up and down his back in slow, soothing motions. "And you won’t lose the others, Noah. It’s just... it’s hard for them to see you breaking down. They don’t know how to help yet. But they love you. They're just scared too."

He clung tighter at that, fingers bunching into the fabric of your shirt like he was afraid letting go would mean unraveling completely.

"I don’t want to be broken," he choked out.

You pulled back just enough to cup his face between your hands, forcing him to look at you. His cheeks were damp, lashes clumped together. You wiped the tears away with your thumbs, gentle but sure.

"You're not broken," you said, voice steady. "You're hurting. There's a difference. Broken means you can't be fixed. And you're still here, Noah. Still fighting. That’s not broken. That’s brave."

For a second, he just stared at you, breathing unevenly. You could see the battle in his eyes. The part of him that wanted to believe you, and the part of him that was still drowning.

Then. Noises from the hallway.

Heavy footsteps. Voices calling out.

"Noah?"

"Bro, where are you?"

"Come on, man, just talk to us!"

You turned, still keeping a steadying hand on Noah's back as the curtains shifted again.

First Nicholas, looking frantic and guilty. Then Matt, Jolly, and Folio right behind him.

They all stopped short when they saw you holding him, the tension immediately dropping from their shoulders.

"There you are," Matt breathed, stepping forward. His voice was soft, careful, like he was approaching a wounded animal.

Nicholas scratched the back of his neck, eyes darting from Noah to you, clearly unsure how to start.

"We didn’t mean to..." Jolly started, but faltered. "We’re just worried, man."

Folio stepped in next, crouching slightly to be on Noah’s eye level even though he wasn’t sure Noah would look up.

"You’re not losing us," he said, voice thick with emotion. "Okay? You’re stuck with us, like it or not."

Nicholas took a tentative step closer, heart in his throat.

"We get it now," he said, voice rough. "We should’ve... we should’ve seen it sooner. You’re not alone in this, Noah. You never were."

Matt gave a small, almost sad smile, hands in his hoodie pocket.

"You don’t have to carry it all by yourself, dude. Let us help. Let us be here for you."

Slowly, Noah pulled his face from your shoulder, blinking like he was still trying to process that they were really there, that they meant it.

"Even if you’re tired... even if you feel broken..." Jolly added, "We’re still here. Always."

For a beat, nobody moved.

Then Nicholas crossed the space first, wrapping his arms around Noah from the side. Matt and Jolly followed, piling into the hug, Folio throwing his arms over all of them. You felt yourself getting caught up in it too, squeezed between them, the warmth and pressure a tangible reminder: he wasn’t alone. Not even close.

Noah let out a wet, shaky laugh against your shoulder, a sound somewhere between relief and disbelief.

"I’m sorry," he muttered.

"Don’t be sorry, bro," Matt said immediately. "We’re sorry for not seeing it sooner."

"We love you, man," Nicholas added, squeezing his shoulder tightly. "Nothing’s gonna change that."

Noah sniffled, a real, soft smile finally pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Love you guys too," he said, voice hoarse but real.

They all held on a little tighter at that.

May 26th, 2023. Grand Rapids, MI

The final note still echoed through the venue, vibrating through the floorboards and into the bones of everyone there. The crowd’s deafening roar followed it, washing over the stage like a tidal wave. But to Noah, it sounded far away, muted, like he was underwater.

He strode offstage, mic still clenched tightly in his hand, each step toward the wings making his chest pull tighter, breath harder to catch.

You were waiting just beyond the curtain, heart hammering painfully in your chest as you caught sight of him.

Noah barely made it two more steps before he sank to his knees against the wall, the mic slipping from his fingers and clattering softly onto the ground. His shoulders trembled, silent sobs already racking his body.

Without thinking, you dropped to your knees beside him, gathering him up into your arms like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He didn’t resist. He folded into you immediately, forehead pressing against your collarbone, fists clutching weakly at your shirt.

A handful of crew members stopped nearby, uncertainty written across their faces. Nobody quite knew whether to step in or give space.

Then Matt rounded the corner, jogging lightly toward the commotion, and stopped dead when he saw Noah crumpled in your arms. His face paled, concern flooding every line of his body.

"Noah?" Matt whispered, voice breaking the stillness like glass.

Through the haze of tears, Noah just shook his head fiercely, squeezing his eyes shut tighter. His voice, when it came, was barely audible:

"Too loud," he choked out. "Too many eyes."

You tightened your arms around him, pressing a soft, grounding kiss against his temple. His skin was clammy under your lips, and your heart ached.

"You were incredible tonight," you whispered, close enough that only he could hear. "You always are, Noah. Every single night."

Noah shuddered, and then his whole body seemed to go limp against you, the fight bleeding out of him all at once.

You rocked him gently, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other rubbing soothing circles into his back.

"It’s okay to break," you murmured, lips brushing against his hair. "I’ve got you. Always."

Matt dropped to his knees opposite you without hesitation, already pulling his radio up to his mouth to quietly call for a water bottle and a towel. His movements were quick but careful, trying not to overwhelm Noah more.

Nicholas appeared next, his face tight with worry. He fumbled for the tissue packet in his back pocket and held it out with shaking fingers.

Jolly knelt down too, resting a broad, steady hand on Noah’s trembling shoulder, grounding him without crowding him.

Folio crouched on Noah’s other side, not saying a word. Just placing a firm, reassuring hand on Noah’s knee, a silent I'm here.

For a few moments, the world outside the curtain didn't exist. Just the soft clatter of the crew moving quietly, the distant thrum of the leaving crowd unaware of the scene unfolding backstage, and the fragile, heavy breathing of the boy in your arms.

Noah finally lifted his head slightly, blinking hard against the tears still clinging to his lashes. His red-rimmed, glassy eyes found yours first, locking onto you like you were the only steady thing in a world still spinning too fast.

"Thank you," he rasped, the words raw but full of meaning.

You brushed his hair back from his forehead gently, giving him a soft, reassuring smile.

"Always," you whispered back. "Always, Noah."

The others stayed close, creating a protective circle around him without ever making him feel trapped.

The room was suffused with a kind of tender, unspoken hush. A reverence for the moment, for the break in Noah’s armor, for the way love sometimes looked less like loud declarations and more like quiet presence.

You tightened your arms around him slightly, feeling the subtle way he leaned into your touch, trusting you, trusting all of them.

Here, in the dim backstage of a roaring venue, you held him steady. Not in secret, not hidden. But right in front of everyone who cared more than they had ever admitted out loud.

And they would be here, you all silently promised, for as long as he needed.

May 27th, 2023. St. Louis, MO

It was just past 2AM when a soft, hesitant knock at your bunk pulled you from the edges of sleep.

You blinked groggily, heart already tightening a little because you knew exactly who it would be.

"Hey," came Noah’s voice, a rough, trembling whisper through the thin fabric. "I can’t sleep."

You reached out, pulling the curtain open just enough to see him standing there barefoot, in sweatpants and a hoodie that looked a size too big on him. Eyes glassy, skin pale in the dim blue emergency lights lining the bus hallway.

You didn’t hesitate. You patted the little empty space beside you, lifting the blanket invitingly.

"Hop in," you said softly, your voice still raspy from sleep.

Noah didn’t need to be told twice. He ducked his head and slithered under the covers with you in the way to tight bunk, moving slowly, like he was trying not to break something fragile.

As soon as he was close enough, you shifted to make room, wrapping an arm securely around his middle and pulling him into your chest. His body was stiff at first. Wired with exhaustion and whatever storm still brewed in his chest. But the second your hand splayed across his back, he melted against you.

"Your hoodie smells like home," he whispered, voice muffled against your shoulder. His cheek pressed into you, seeking every ounce of comfort you could give.

You smiled softly, threading your fingers gently through his hair, letting your nails scratch lightly at his scalp the way you knew soothed him.

"I’m right here," you murmured, pressing your lips to the top of his head.

Noah breathed in. Sharp at first, a stuttering inhale like he was trying not to cry again. Relief. Exhaustion. Safety. All wrapped up into one broken, beautiful breath.

You tucked his arm securely across your waist, holding it there with your hand so he’d feel anchored, tethered to something solid.

"Sleep now," you whispered against his hair. "You need it, Noah."

He didn’t answer. But he didn’t need to.

Within minutes, you felt the change. The way his breathing evened out, slow and steady, his body growing heavier against yours as sleep finally, finally claimed him.

You stayed awake a little longer, unwilling to move, unwilling to break the fragile peace that had settled around the two of you like a blanket.

Your hand drifted in slow, lazy circles across his back, tracing invisible patterns, grounding him even as he slept.

And as you lay there in the dark, listening to the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, you found yourself silently, fiercely grateful, that tonight, you could give him this.

Peace.

Safety.

Home.

All the things he deserved, wrapped up in your arms.

May 28th, 2023. Fort Wayne, IN

The morning was quiet on the bus, the kind of sleepy peace that came after too many late nights stacked together.

You stood at the little counter in the cramped kitchen, carefully measuring out ingredients for pancakes, trying not to jostle the bag of flour too hard and send it puffing everywhere. A bowl of chocolate chips sat within reach, waiting to be folded in.

You barely noticed when Matt stepped in until you felt him hovering.

He leaned casually against the doorway, arms folded across his chest, watching you a little too intently.

"Hey," he said finally, voice easy but edged with something more serious.

You glanced up, giving him a questioning look without pausing in your measuring.

Matt scratched the back of his neck, shifting his weight. "I’ve noticed you two," he said, tone gentle, almost teasing. "Getting pretty close."

You froze mid-pour, batter dripping slowly from the measuring cup.

"I’m just helping him," you said quietly, setting the cup down and wiping your hands on a dish towel. There was no defensiveness in your voice. Just honesty.

Matt exhaled through his nose, a small, knowing grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. He wasn’t accusing. He understood.

"Good," he said after a beat. "Because he needs you right now. But..." He pushed off the doorway, stepping closer. His expression softened, voice dipping lower, more protective. "Don’t let him lean on you so hard that you break too."

You turned fully to face him then, meeting his steady gaze without flinching. The sincerity there — the quiet worry for both you and Noah — settled heavy in your chest.

"I’ll let you know when I need a breather," you promised, giving him a small, reassuring smile.

Matt studied you for another moment, then nodded, satisfied.

"He trusts you more than anyone," he said. "Just... make sure he doesn’t forget how to trust himself too."

You bit your lip, emotions swelling under your ribs.

Wordlessly, you reached into the bowl of chocolate chips, scooping a spoonful, and held it out to him like a peace offering.

Matt chuckled, the tension breaking. He leaned forward and plucked a few off the spoon before popping them into his mouth.

"Deal," you said, voice lighter now.

Matt clapped your shoulder. A solid, grateful kind of touch. One that said more than words ever could.

"Thanks for being his anchor," he said, squeezing once before letting go.

You watched him walk away, disappearing back down the narrow hallway toward the bunks.

As you turned back to the batter, stirring it gently, a quiet realization settled into your bones:

The band didn’t just rely on Noah.

They were starting to rely on you, too.

And somehow, without even meaning to, you had become part of the thread stitching them all together.

You glanced toward the hallway where Noah was still sleeping, and smiled softly to yourself.

You wouldn't let any of them fall apart alone.

Not if you could help it.

May 30th, 2023. Des Moines, IA

The next evening, the green room was almost empty, filled only with the low hum of a distant air vent and the quiet rustle of supplies as you sat cross-legged on the carpet, reorganizing the first-aid kit.

Bandages, antiseptic wipes, gauze. You methodically checked every box, every roll, hands moving out of habit more than thought.

You didn’t hear Noah approach at first.

It wasn’t until he cleared his throat. A small, uncertain sound.

He stood just inside the doorway, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair still damp from the post-soundcheck shower. There was a hesitancy in the way he hovered, like he wasn’t sure if he should interrupt.

Without a word, you shifted to the side, making room on the floor.

Noah crossed the room and sat down across from you, mirroring your position, his legs folding awkwardly under him. His gaze found yours almost immediately.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. You went back to stacking supplies, giving him space to find the words he was clearly working up to.

Finally, Noah broke the silence, his voice small but steady:

"I don’t think I ever properly thanked you," he said.

You set down the box of gauze you were holding, giving him your full attention.

"You don’t have to," you said quietly, meaning every word.

But Noah shook his head, almost fiercely, leaning forward across the scattered first-aid supplies. His hand reached out, tentative at first, then firmer as he took yours, cradling it between both of his.

The touch startled something warm and aching in your chest.

"No," he said again, voice thick with emotion. "I do."

He squeezed your hand lightly, grounding himself. His thumb brushed absentmindedly over your knuckles, like he needed the connection just as much as the words.

"You saved my life," he said, the confession tumbling out in a breath. His eyes, wide and dark, searched yours with a rawness that made it hard to breathe. "On stage. Off stage. In flights. In hotels. Everywhere. You never left."

Your heart clenched painfully. You swallowed hard, forcing back the lump rising in your throat.

You tightened your hand around his, steady and sure.

"We’re a team," you whispered, voice catching slightly. "You would’ve done the same for me."

Noah didn’t look away. His fingers laced tighter with yours, like he could somehow say the rest of the things he didn’t know how to voice through touch alone.

"Thank you," he said again, softer this time, like a prayer. "For everything."

The air between you buzzed. Not heavy, not uncomfortable but thick with all the things words would never fully capture.

You gave his hand one more reassuring squeeze and offered a tiny, trembling smile.

"You don’t have to thank me," you repeated, just as quietly. "Just stay. That’s all."

And Noah nodded, a promise written all over his face.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

Neither were you.

June 1st, 2023. Omaha, NE

The bus rocked gently beneath your feet as you padded down the narrow hallway, the soft hum of the engine and faint chatter from outside lulling the world into a late-night haze.

As you passed the little kitchen nook, you spotted Noah standing there, half-shadowed in the dim lighting.

The overhead bulb cast a soft, almost golden glow across his features highlighting the exhaustion in his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged under the weight of everything he'd been carrying.

He lifted his head when he saw you, something tender and vulnerable flickering in his gaze.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" he asked, voice low, almost hesitant.

You immediately shifted your path toward him, offering a small smile.

"Of course," you said. "What's up?"

Noah didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached out, fingers curling around your hand. His grip was warm, steady, but you could feel the tremor underneath like he was holding onto something delicate and precious.

Without letting go, he tugged you gently toward the front of the bus, pulling you into the living room where the couches and worn coffee table sat in cozy disarray.

He didn't let go of your hand even as he sat down heavily on the couch, looking up at you with an expression so open, so raw, it made your heart ache.

You sat down beside him, turning to face him fully, your knees brushing his.

Noah took a deep breath, visibly gathering himself. His thumb rubbed a nervous pattern across the back of your hand.

"I’ve been wanting to say this the whole day," he began, words tumbling out in a rush. "But... I couldn’t find the right words. I kept overthinking it and—" He broke off, shaking his head.

You squeezed his hand gently, silently telling him to just breathe. Just talk.

He inhaled shakily.

"You..." he said, voice cracking slightly, "you saved my life. Not just the night in Raleigh, or Grand Rapids, or anywhere in between. You saved me every day. Every time you smiled at me. Every time you sat with me when the world felt too heavy to move. Every time you told me it was okay to not be okay."

Your chest tightened, emotion building under your ribs so hard it hurt.

"You made me want to stay," Noah whispered. His fingers tightened around yours, like he was afraid if he let go, he'd lose his nerve. "You made me smile again. You reminded me that... even when I felt broken, I wasn’t unlovable. That I was still worth something."

He looked up at you then, and the sheer vulnerability in his eyes stole the breath straight from your lungs.

"You made me feel like I could be more than my sadness," he said, voice trembling. "You made me feel like home wasn’t some place I’d lost. It was right here, in you."

Your breath caught audibly in your throat.

"Noah," you whispered, barely able to get his name past the tightness in your chest.

He shifted closer, so close now you could feel the heat radiating off his body. His hands. Both of them came up to cradle yours, thumbs brushing soothing, reverent circles across your skin.

His eyes never left yours as he said, in a voice so full of certainty it made you want to cry:

"I love you. In every stitch. In every scar. In every broken, battered piece of me... you’re my home."

Tears pricked sharply at your eyes, blurring your vision. You let out a shaky, broken laugh, overwhelmed, heart splitting wide open in the best way possible.

"I love you too," you choked out, no hesitation, no fear. Just truth.

For a heartbeat, you both just stared at each other, emotions laid bare between you like a map of every scar and every healing wound.

Then Noah moved. Slow, careful, giving you every chance to pull away. And when you didn’t, when you leaned in just as eagerly, he closed the distance.

His lips met yours softly at first, like a secret being shared for the first time.

You sighed against him, melting into the kiss, arms sliding up around his neck as he pulled you closer, closer, like he couldn’t stand a single inch of space between you.

The kiss deepened gradually, growing surer, more desperate, like all the things you hadn’t said, all the moments you hadn’t touched, were finally pouring out.

The world outside faded into nothing. The engine’s hum, the distant noise from the venue, even the flicker of the bus lights.

There was only Noah.

Only you.

And the quiet, beautiful truth that had been waiting between you all along.

June 2nd, 2023. Kansas City, MO

The next morning, the bus was already stirring with soft laughter and the smell of brewing coffee when you and Noah finally emerged from the hallway.

His hand was wrapped tightly around yours, fingers intertwined like he wasn’t ready to let you go.

You made your way toward the little dining booth at the front of the bus where the rest of the guys were already gathered, sleepy-eyed but lively.

As soon as they spotted you, Jolly let out a low, teasing whistle.

"Well, look at you two lovebirds," he drawled, smirking over the rim of his coffee mug.

Nicholas, still nursing his first cup of caffeine, lifted it in a lazy toast, his eyes twinkling.

"Congrats," he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Matt, who had been sprawled out across the bench, immediately straightened up, grinning so wide it nearly split his face. He slid into the booth opposite you two, leaning his elbows on the table with exaggerated excitement.

"About time," he said, shaking his head like he’d been waiting years for this moment.

You ducked your head, cheeks warming, but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. Noah squeezed your hand beneath the table, grounding you with that quiet, steady touch you were already so hopelessly attached to.

He cleared his throat, glancing at the guys, voice thick but certain.

"She saved me," he said, giving your hand another gentle squeeze, "and so did you guys. Thank you... all of you. So much."

There was a beat. A soft moment where everything stilled, like the gravity of his words deserved space to settle.

Then, as if they’d rehearsed it, all four of them said at once, voices overlapping with easy, unfiltered affection:

"Of course."

Folio, who was leaning back in his seat with his arms stretched over the back of the booth, tipped his head toward you both with a smirk.

"Just so you know," he said, his voice teasing but fond, "I called that from the second she stitched him up back in Colorado."

You laughed, unable to hold it back, the memory flashing through your mind. Noah wincing, you hovering over him with shaking hands, neither of you realizing that something bigger had already started that night.

You leaned into Noah’s shoulder, hiding your grin against the soft fabric of his hoodie. He tilted his head slightly, pressing a small, secret kiss to the top of your hair.

The guys erupted into cheers, clinking glasses, mugs, and even a random water bottle together in a loud, messy, absolutely perfect celebration.

The teasing was relentless. Jolly pretending to wipe a tear, Nicholas fake-offended that no one placed bets, Matt loudly announcing he better be the best man if there’s a wedding someday. But it was warm, easy, and wrapped in all the chaotic love that had built itself between you all without even trying.

As you sat there, tucked into Noah’s side, his hand still clutching yours like it was the only thing keeping him steady, you realized something beautiful. This wasn’t just a relationship.

It was a family.

And you had never been more at home.

June 3rd, 2023. Memphis, TN

The air backstage buzzed with the low hum of crew chatter, the faint rumble of the crowd bleeding through the walls like a living heartbeat.

You weaved through the maze of cables and cases, scanning for him and there, by the monitor world, you spotted Noah.

He was adjusting his in-ears, fingers fumbling slightly, his shoulders wound tight with nerves.

You moved toward him quietly, not wanting to startle him. When you reached him, he looked up, the tension plain in his face.

"I’m nervous," he admitted, voice low, almost sheepish, as if confessing a secret he wasn’t proud of.

You stepped closer, into his space, feeling the familiar magnetic pull between you. Gently, you reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair back from his forehead, fingertips lingering a second longer than necessary.

"You’ve come so far," you reminded him softly, your voice steady, sure, "Remember that night? The one when I found you crying in the corner after the show? You were convinced you couldn't do this anymore."

He let out a breath that trembled at the edges, his gaze dropping for a moment, like the memory still hurt to touch.

You hooked your finger under his chin, guiding him to look at you.

"Look at you now," you said, smiling gently.

His eyes, dark and uncertain, searched yours.

"I never thought I’d make it," he whispered, almost like he didn’t believe it even now.

Your heart squeezed. Without thinking, you cupped his cheek, thumb brushing the faint stubble there, grounding him.

"You did," you said fiercely, "Not just because you had to. Because you chose to. You’ve been stronger than you ever knew, Noah."

He leaned into your hand like it was the only thing holding him up, eyes shimmering with the kind of gratitude that words could never fully carry.

"Thank you," he said hoarsely, "for believing when I couldn’t. For staying."

You smiled through the emotion thickening your throat. Leaning up on your toes, you pressed a kiss to his lips. A soft, lingering kiss that was part promise, part prayer, part I’m with you, always.

When you pulled back, you rested your forehead lightly against his.

"I am so, so proud of you," you whispered. "Now go out there. Show them the real you. Show them the heart they fell in love with. The same one I did."

Noah exhaled, a deep, steadying breath. You watched as the tension slowly uncoiled from his frame. He nodded, a small but sure smile curving his lips.

"Okay," he said, squeezing your waist gently, grounding himself in your touch one last time before he had to let go.

He squared his shoulders, standing taller, a light coming back into his eyes.

And without another word, he turned and strode toward the stage, the roar of the crowd growing louder, swallowing him whole.

You stayed back, hand pressed to your chest, heart full, watching the man you loved step into his light. A light he had built from the ashes, with your hand in his.

June 4th, 2023. Wichita, KS

It was the last night before you would fly back home to LA.

The final show had ended in a haze of cheers and lights and raw magic. Better than either of you could have dreamed. It felt untouchable, almost surreal.

Hours later, in the dim, quiet hotel room, the adrenaline was still humming beneath your skin, refusing to settle.

Noah closed the door softly behind him, locking the world out. His eyes found yours in the low light, and that unspoken tension. The one that had been simmering between you all day finally snapped.

He crossed the room in two strides, hands cradling your face as he kissed you hard, like he was starving, like he couldn't get close enough.

You barely made it to the bed before he was guiding you down, hovering over you, his weight a comforting pressure you needed more than air.

You kissed for what felt like hours, slow and deep, the kind of kisses that made you forget what day it was, what your own name was.

You tugged gently on the hem of his shirt, breaking the kiss just enough to whisper, "Take it off."

He hesitated, breathing heavy, forehead pressed to yours.

"Are you sure?" he rasped, voice thick with tension, hope, and a trembling restraint that made your chest ache.

You nodded, thumb brushing the sharp edge of his jaw.

"More than sure," you breathed. "Please, Noah."

He kissed you again, softer this time, almost reverent, before peeling off his shirt and tossing it somewhere into the dark.

Every touch after that felt sacred. His fingers trailed along your collarbone like he was memorizing you, while your hands mapped the planes of his back, the dip of his spine.

You let out a low moan when his fingers found your chest through your shirt, pinching your nipple gently.

You arched into him, reaching for the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head in one fluid motion.

Noah sucked in a breath, eyes devouring you.

He carefully unclasped your bra, letting it fall away, leaving you bare under his gaze.

"You're so damn beautiful," he whispered like a prayer, tracing his thumb over your exposed skin. "How do I even deserve you?"

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Not with the way his words cracked something open inside you. Instead, you tugged him down into another searing kiss, hands threading through his hair.

You kissed your way down his throat, his chest, his stomach, taking your time, feeling every shiver he gave you.

When you reached the waistband of his jeans, you glanced up at him, asking for permission without speaking.

He gave the softest nod.

You undid his belt slowly, teasing him, hearing the hitch in his breathing. Then you tugged his jeans and boxers down in one swift, confident motion.

You pressed slow kisses to his thighs, feeling him tremble under your touch.

When you finally took him into your mouth, his reaction was instant. A deep, guttural groan that made heat flare between your legs.

You licked the tip first, swirling your tongue, before taking him deeper, bopping your head in a steady rhythm.

After a few blissful moments, his hand found your hair, guiding you gently but urgently, hips stuttering.

"Shit, I’m so close," he gasped, voice wrecked.

You let him slip from your mouth with a soft pop, a string of saliva connecting you still. His desperate whine nearly undid you.

"Why'd you stop?" Noah asked, breathless, wide-eyed.

You climbed back up his body, straddling his hips, smirking against his flushed skin.

"Because," you whispered against his ear, "I want you to cum inside me, baby."

Noah let out a groan so raw it made your whole body shiver.

"Are you trying to fucking kill me?" he growled, but his hands were already gripping your hips like he’d die if he let go.

You kissed him hard, stealing the rest of his sanity, before pulling back just enough to shimmy out of your skirt and panties.

Noah’s eyes darkened as he took you in, hands roaming like he couldn't decide where to touch first. He slid one hand down to where you were aching for him, rubbing slow, teasing circles that made you keen.

"Noah," you whimpered, rocking into his hand, "I need you. Inside me. Please."

He didn't make you beg twice.

Guiding you carefully, you sank down onto him, both of you letting out broken, desperate sounds as he filled you.

You moved slowly at first, adjusting to the sweet stretch of him, your forehead resting against his.

His hands gripped your waist, and then he was meeting your hips with his own, thrusting up into you hard enough to punch moans from both of you.

"Fuck, you feel like heaven," he groaned, lips ghosting over your throat.

You rode him like it was the only thing that mattered, skin against skin, messy and beautiful and real.

The room filled with the sounds of your bodies. The wet slap of skin, the choked off moans, the whispered praises, and quiet, breathless laughter when you bumped noses or fumbled, too drunk on each other to care.

You fell over the edge together, clinging to each other like a lifeline, gasping each other's names into the space between your mouths.

Afterward, you collapsed against him, hearts pounding wildly in sync.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, holding you like he’d never let go.

You pressed a kiss to the inked skin of his chest, right over his heart.

"I'm always gonna be here for you, Noah. No matter what," you whispered, voice cracking with the weight of how much you meant it.

He tightened his arms around you, resting his forehead against yours.

"And I’m always gonna love you," he murmured back, sealing the promise with a soft kiss.

You lay there like that for a long time, tangled up in each other, breathing the same air, sharing the same future.

After a while, Noah brushed your hair back and looked at you with something new in his eyes. Something scared and hopeful all at once.

"I know it’s still fresh," he said quietly, "and it’s extremely early... but... will you move in with us? With me?"

You blinked, tears stinging your eyes for a whole different reason this time.

Grinning wide enough that it hurt, you cupped his face between your hands.

"Of course I will, Noah," you said, voice shaking with happiness. "There’s no place else I’d rather be."

He kissed you again, smiling against your lips.

Later, you lay together, already talking about which room would be yours, how you’d make it a real home. Not just for Noah, but for you both.

The future didn't feel so scary anymore.

Taglist: @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @courta13 @lacy1986 @bloody-spades @take--me--first

Navigation | Requests | Masterlist

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

© enemiestolovershoe. All rights reserved.

[lilygoofywritingcave]

Happy Valentine's Day !!!!

Oh, it seems a certain member in Slaughterhouse has sent you a letter, are you brave enough to open it?

Spoilers warning for character names

Misaki, the ever silly contract killer

"To Y/N, the chaos to my mayhem (or Whatever Romantic Crap I’m Supposed to Say),

Alright, so listen, uhh I was just planning on sending you a pic of a raccoon holding a heart and call it a day, BUT APPARENTLY that’s not “romantic” enough. Smh. So now I’m here, struggling to put actual words together instead of just sending you a keyboard smash and hoping you get the vibe.

So. Uh. Lily. You menace. Do you have ANY idea what you've done to me?? I’ll see something stupid n immediately think, “Oh, Y/N would laugh at this.” Like. That’s so weird. That’s EMBARRASSING. I save memes just to send you at 3AM, YOU are why Im having sleep deprivation (the good kind ofc). I would smile at my phone like an absolute idiot whenever your name pops up. It’s sick. You did this to me.

Also. Explain why you write me like I’m some cool badass when I’m just some gremlin with a knife and a rifle. Like. Hello??? Ma’am???? I do crimes, that's no news, but then you come along with your little fics n suddenly I feel like maybe, just maybe, I’m not just the sum of all the bad things I’ve done. I don’t know how to process that. Or you. You make my brain short-circuit without needing to doomscroll Tiktok.

ANYWAY. Point is, you’re mine now. No take-backs. Stuck with me forever, I will continue to be the most annoying gremlin in your life, sending you unhinged voice notes, and remind you every day that you matter. Because you do. A lot. (EW I HATE HOW SAPPY THAT SOUNDED MOVE ON PLS...)

...Okay, I think I’ve reached my emotional limit. I need to go set something on fire to balance this out. Or at least, like, flip a table.

Happy Valentine’s, silly.

Misaki Katsuo"

V, cold outside but cares more than you know

"To dear Y/N, Valentine’s Day seems to demand people to express affection for each other, something flowery and poetic. Although I consider traditions like that often exaggerated, but it felt unfair for you. So, I’ll keep this simple, for your sake.

You... matter to me, more than I would want to admit. You’ve become a part of my life in a way I didn’t expect, it is frankly troublesome how often my thoughts wander to you. And despite my usual preference for order, I don’t mind the chaos you bring. In fact… I think I’d miss it if it were gone.

I could compose some poetical metaphor, comparing you to the moon, the stars, or whatever romantic nonsense one is expected to write in a letter such as this, but I won’t waste your time.

Just know that if you ever need me, whether for something important or as simple as spending time together, you have only to say the word and I'll always be there.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N.

"Valentin Viljoen"

Angel, sweet and dangerous like a rose

To My Love, Happy Valentine’s Day.

I know, I know, cheesy, cliché, overhyped day… but I don’t care. Today is just another excuse for me to remind you how much you mean to me, and I’ll take it.

You, you are the one thing in my life that feels real, no cameras, no flashing lights, no expectations to be perfect. Just us, and I need that more than I ever realized.

I’m not easy to love, am I? Always getting caught up in my work, in my image, in making sure everything and everyone is okay… but you? You remind me that I’m more than what people see. That I’m allowed to breathe, to be a little selfish, to take up space in someone's life without feeling guilty.

You make me feel like I’m enough. And I don’t know if I’ve ever felt that before.

So, for today, no, for always, I want you to know that I love you. In the quiet moments, in the chaos, in every way I know how. I love you when I get overwhelmed and you remind me to rest. I love you when you make me laugh so hard I forget whatever stress was eating at me. I love you when you’re just, you.

I don’t say it enough, but thank you, for seeing me, for staying, for being the best thing to ever happen to me.

Now, let’s turn off our phones, ignore the world for a while, and just be together. That’s all I really want.

Your Angel,

Maria de la Rosa

And lastly, the devil himself, Ronin

to my dearest darlin’ Y/N,

there’s always a certain rhythm to a heartbeat. steady, but unique for everyone. funny little thing, really. you press your fingers just right, and there it is: life, thumpin’ away under the fragile skin. but oh, how delicate it is. how easy it Is to destroy

. tell me darlin', have you ever wonder, what it takes to keep that aorta singin’? how much someone’s got Left in ‘em before rotting away? or how love can sink its teeth in deep, turning even the purest souls dark, twisting the light ‘til it don’t shine the same no more?

ironic, ain't it? how even the worst of ‘em, either gutted or broken, still has a heart. just like yours, still beating, lively as ever, a reminder that you’re here and you’re real. that you’re eVerythin’, my everything.

and isn't that a beautiful thing? to havE you readin’ this, seeing the devil puttin' his feelings into words. there ain't no poetrY sweet enough, no god powerful enough to take it away.

Over and over, i think about you, about the way you laugh, the way you exist. about how this world feels a little less, rotten with you in it. Understand this, darlin', you got me by your side. for as long as that pretty little heart of yours beats, you and i will face whatever this shitty world throws at us, together.

Don't ever forget that. And don’t think for a second i’d ever let you go. Remember this and Listen close. It's always been you and you only. Nothing will ever change that.

happy valentine’s, darlin’.

—r. beaufort

(P/S: you know how i play, let's get that pretty brain to work)

[moodymisty]

can I request something happy for Lorgar? maybe reader reaffirming her love for him and he just gets hearteyes and its just cute. if you don't want to do that, just anything positive. pls. ya'll torturing this poor bald man. MERCY LMAO

Author's note: Ignore the fruit/apple symbolism in this tehe ;3

Relationships: Lorgar/GN!Reader (there is one mention of the word dress however)

Warnings: none

Your dress flows as you jump, hand reaching upward towards the sky. Lorgar watches from a balcony not far away, looking down at you.

The fruit is just out of your grasp. You keep jumping to try and smack it, even attempted to climb the tree. In a bit of a cruel way, he finds your struggle amusing. It's so simple, and for a moment he wonders if other men find even the most monotonous things their beloveds do as enthralling as he does.

Serfs pass by and watch curiously as you attempt to pull at the branch, but it's too strong for you to weigh it down. Though not moments later, your savior arrives.

Lorgar doesn't recognize the Word Bearer, merely that they are somewhat fresh to the legion; Their armor is fresh and face somewhat young. The curious marine comes closer and presumably asks what you're doing, his brothers hanging back and watching. You point to the branch and explain your predicament while Lorgar leans against the railing.

The marine to Lorgar’s surprise grasps the branch with his hand and weighs it down, letting you pluck two fruits before letting it snap back upward. You smile and him and he leaves to continue on his duties, and you walk away from the tree.

Lorgar lingers for awhile afterward. He wonders where you're going to enjoy the literal fruits of your labor; Though not all your labor. One of his sons assisted and he is glad they've softened their opinion on you. Especially the younger ones.

"Lorgar!"

Your soft voice pulls him out of his contemplation, and you hold the fruit in your hand. One you've bitten into, the juice on your lips that drips down the corner of your mouth, while the other is untouched.

It’s sinful, dare he say. You indulge so freely and unknowingly.

"I got one for myself but, would you like the other?"

He smlies at you, golden tattoos shining in the evening sun. Yours shine as well- the few on your hand you’ve gotten so far, delicate and beautiful. He never has the words to describe- ethereal, perhaps.

"Of course, but only if you stay with me."

You place the fruit in his hand which becomes dwarfed by his size, and laugh.

"That was my plan, even without the fruit. I just happened to pass by and see the tree was in bloom."

Lorgar takes a bite, enjoying the sweet taste while standing here with you. He takes a knee, reaching his other hand out to grasp your own and brush over the top of it with his thumb. You stop eating and lose your smile.

“You’re leaving tomorrow, right?”

Lorgar nods. You purse your lips and look away for a moment, taking a bite.

“It feels like you only just got back, I’m going to miss you.”

Lorgar eats the last of his fruit, before using that now free hand to cup your jaw and gently turn your face back to him.

“My love, there is no words to describe how much I miss you when I leave you here.”

He leans in, pressing his lips to yours.

Your kiss tastes like fresh fruit, saccharine sweet. Your lips are soft and inviting, and he finds himself pulled in more than a man of his ken should ever be wavered. The gentle moan you make as you press closer, greedily asking for more, Lorgar would oblige if he was a weaker man pulled astray by fruit as sweet as you.

His lips pull away from yours with a soft pop, and he sees that sweet nectar still in the corners of your mouth. You smile and lean into his palm.

“Before you go, can you read to me one last time?” Lorgar smiles, his face warm and inviting.

“Of course.”

[hotchswifey]

thigh riding - rafael barba x reader smut

(okay, i wrote this 2 years ago, it's on my ao3 (same username), no judgements pls, i cba to rewrite it better or even reread it

WARNINGS: SMUT, THIGH RIDING

WORD COUNT: 1002)

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

When you woke up, it was only 2.43 a.m., according to the alarm clock. And yet - even at almost three in the morning - the lights outside the bedroom were still on. Which could only mean one thing: your boyfriend, who you loved dearly, had not. Stopped. Working. 

In your sleepy state, you decided to kill the man. Maybe not literally - but, yeah, maybe literally.

You sighed as you got out of bed, buttoning up Rafael’s shirt unevenly and rubbing your eyes, preparing for the harsh light of the apartment compared to the bedroom. 

Rafael looked up at you and smiled tiredly as you wandered into his ‘work space’, which was supposed to be a dining table, but you had sworn you had never seen anybody eat there. 

“Rafael, what the hell?” you shook your head, yawning, looking at the spread of documents over the glass table, and walking over to him. he was touching you immediately, pulling you down onto his lap, one arm around your waist, the other holding your thigh.

“I know, it’s late, but -” 

“It’s 3 a.m.,” you interrupted, laying your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes. You heard his sigh above you, and you looked up at him, “Come to bed.” he looked at you with his exhausted green eyes, an empathetic expression on his face.

“I’m sorry, Hermosa, this needs to be finished by tomorrow,” he explained, the hand holding your thigh, squeezing it, in some form of apology.

“Then finish it tomorrow,” you yawned into his shoulder.

“I can’t, cariño,” It wasn’t like he sounded happy about it, which you supposed made it better. You sighed but sat up (as best you could whilst still on Rafael’s lap) and looked over at the laptop, paperwork, documents, and files. 

“Okay, what are we doing?” you asked, deciding that if he was going to stay up, so were you.

“Hermosa, you should go back to bed -”

“So should you,” you said sternly, “Now, what are we doing?”

After a while of working, you had wound up in the seat opposite him, reading over the files, trying to find the one that Rafael needed - which was easier said than done, considering that the size of the pile of files was equivalent to a small child. You sighed, dropping the file and leaning back in your chair.

“I’m giving up,” You rubbed your face as you looked over at the clock - 4.34 a.m. You heard another sigh from the man across from you as he shut the laptop. You got up before, more or less, throwing yourself on the couch. Rafael joined you seconds later, to which you straddled his lap, your hands finding his suspenders to fiddle with.

It had been about a week of the same thing - Rafael would get home late and work until late. You knew that when this case was over, he would feel so guilty that he would absolutely spoil you, but that didn’t make this week easier.

What also didn’t make the week easier was that you had been so incredibly horny; you would have thought you’d burst by now. 

With that thought in mind, you started subtly grinding against Rafael’s thigh, which you just so happened to be sitting on (something that you had definitely not done on purpose). The friction against your clit, something you hadn’t felt in a week, felt so foreign and sound that your subtle grinding turned into noticeable grinding. 

Rafael’s hands found your hips underneath your shirt (which, of course, was actually his), not moving you, just gently holding you, and his lips found your neck, humming against you.

“Hermosa...” you hummed back in response, continuing your movements and moving yourself up and down his thigh.

The pressure in your lower belly snowballed, having not had an orgasm for - what had felt like - a year, but in reality, it was probably only eight days. You had begun to moan at some point, whines and whimpers leaving your lips as your hips moved faster and faster, desperate for some release.

“Rafael,” you whined, your hands gripping onto the suspenders he was wearing. His lips were still attached to your neck, nipping, kissing, and sucking at you.

“are you going to cum for me, Hermosa?” you nodded rapidly, and a whiney ‘uh huh’ fell from your mouth, which fell open as you screwed your eyes shut. A mantra of ‘please, please, Rafael’ could be heard as you sped up your movements, moving more harshly against his slacks now as you got really close.

“Be a good girl, cariño,” his voice was husky, his words and his hands gripping your hips, and the friction made you fall over the edge. Your legs seized up, but you continued moving, hoping to make it last as long as possible, ‘fuck’s and ‘Oh god’s fell from your lips, alongside Rafael’s name. Rafael continued to talk to you through your orgasm, switching to Spanish, “cum para mí, niña bonita”, knowing it would prolong your orgasm and make you throb.

“Eres tan bonita, Hermosa,” Your hips slowed as your orgasm came to an end, and you practically collapsed against him from exhaustion, “Tan bonita,” he said, kissing your forehead before standing up, making you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms, around his neck.

He carried you to the bedroom, setting you gently onto the bed where you had been sleeping just hours before. He got on the other side, pulling your back towards him, spooning you. You felt his rigid member against your ass and tried to reach behind you to... help him, even in your tired state. However, Rafael intertwined his fingers with yours, pulling your body against his tighter and your intertwined hands to rest on your stomach.

“Don’t worry about it, cariño,” he mumbled against your neck, “Get some sleep.” You weren’t exactly happy about leaving your boyfriend unsatisfied, but you promised yourself that you would make up for it in the morning...

[scarlettoceaneyes]

Another fluff between Sam x reader??

BUT THIS TIME, she gives birth.... 😁

I am so happy that you are doing mine, I truly love what you have done with my prompts.

Thank youuuuu 🩷🩷

Aww so glad you love them!!! I really enjoyed writing for Sam actually 🥰 pls plzzz send more

The princess has arrived~ The Little Princess part 3

“Dude will you calm down?” Jared tried to make the tension break in the room unsuccessfully as Sam looked as if he could tear him into pieces.

Sue was checking over you at home and she promptly kicked Sam out due to his rattled behavior. Sue had more important concerns than Sam phasing in the room, nor would she be able to focus with his jittery pacing as if he was quitting smoking cold turkey. Endearing as his love was, it was annoying at this moment so he was banished to the living room. With Jared. The source of Sam’s annoyance at the moment.

“Jared, seriously if she has complications with her heart rate and blood pressure, she could die and so could the baby. I’m not taking that chance and I don’t do well when I can’t fix things.” Sam heard both fluctuate unusually and often the past hour. Sue came straight over after reading the text, then Sam started sweating. You and Sue knew it was partly his wolf so best thing was to put him out of the room until you could figure everything out. You just knew he better pull it together for actual labor. His wolf would even bow to you when angry. Jared simply agreed and stated that Sam had to work on staying calm so you could. Paul agreed upon entering from patrol and hearing the conversation. Sam started to breathe deeply to try and clear his mind. He knew you weren’t in pain and that’s what still gave him sanity right now.

Sue came out of the room telling Sam that you were getting dressed and ready to come to the hospital. Sue would go with you to explain the quick admittance and that they would be expecting you. Sam had a look of fear in his eyes, but let her finish. You were close enough to your due date in a week that the doctor wanted to go ahead and see if they can get the baby ready to come while monitoring the vital signs. Your baby could be simply a gymnast in there or there could be a number of things happening. Your heart rate and blood pressure was becoming alarming.

Sue gave everyone a couple of instructions involving getting everything in order to go to the hospital. Sam clicked into dad mode at that point. He needed to be there for you and felt the bond pulling him to you in one of the most beautiful and emotional times in your lives together.

Knocking on the door, you allowed whoever in now that you were dressed and packing a few last things. You could not remember where you put your iPad charger. Sam and his sports would bore you to tears when you were not even allowed to move from the bed. Getting to walk to the car was some of the most action you had seen in weeks. Sam caught you in focus mode. He came up behind you, and wrapped you into a hug.

“Sam babe come on I have to get going.” You were a little surprised this was his reaction and you were the focused one. Well he was focused on you, and you didn’t know what to expect of the wolf side during this experience.

“Thank you for doing this and going through all you have. I’m so proud of you baby.” Sam kissed the crown of your head and turned you around slowly to look at him. He took the opportunity to steal a quick kiss and check on you. Not physically per say but mentally and emotionally. He knew you were scared. Looking into his eyes you felt tears pool behind your eyes. You didn’t expect them, but he smiled softly and wiped them away with his thumb, following with a kiss to each place they fell. He really was a Prince Charming. He asked how you were doing and you told him honestly. He understood as you were both scared but excited. You begged him not to leave you one moment during this. He looked as if you were crazy to even suggest he would not be with you and his little girl every moment. You both laughed and hugged a second time a little longer this time. Sue could be heard in the next room and you both got to work.

You quickly were not feeling well, but you were almost at the hospital. Sam drove while Sue sat next to you in the back. You both tried to keep calm for Sam. You all arrived safely, but you didn’t have much time till the baby would be arriving. Your water broke in the back of Jared’s car that you borrowed…but the vitals were actually leveling out. Sue said the baby could have been getting ready for birth in her own way. You had to apologize to Jared later.

Getting settled in a room, your doctor was waiting to get you checked out. You were dilated enough for an epidural if you wanted one. You quickly accepted showing signs of serious labor pains. Sam was surprised as you didn’t appear to be in pain. You were doing so well. He had to sign so many papers for admittance that by the time he came to you in the room they were fixing to put in the epidural. He felt you were in pain. He tried to soothe you, but you were both doing this the first time. Sue helped, as did the medication. You were dilating quickly, especially for a first time mom. The baby was sounding okay. Sam was holding it together.

He spent most of your labor holding you in some form. It helped more than the epidural to know he would be there protecting you and help you at your most vulnerable. You had been looking forward to seeing his face when he held his child for the first time. He massaged your back or shoulders. He talked to his little girl even if she might not hear him this close to birth with all the noise. He kept you calm and feeling full of love. You were comfortable and safe, which made the labor progress quickly and easily. Yes the contractions were there and rough, Sam helped. He held you up in any position that helped relieve pain. He did whatever he could for everyone. Sam was a dream come true.

The labor was relatively easy compared to all the stories you were told about first time being long and hard. Before you knew it; your little girl was born. Sam didn’t stop crying the whole day- no joke. He was handed the baby before skin to skin and sat down talking to his little princess as he called you. The tears were shed by all in the room. He wa so proud of you. He couldn’t express it all, but you both felt it. You promised him a boy next. He wanted whatever you did. He couldn’t believe how amazing you were today and strong.

The pack visited the next day and passed around the little pink bundle. You saw some tears from almost all of them. those who betted someone would imprint on your baby had to pay up. Every pack member locked eyes with her. Some wanted a redo when a baby can truly see. You did, still nothing. Teach the men to bet on your baby.

“So what’s the name of this cute little girl?” Jared asked as he and Kim held the new baby. Sam looked at you as if he was asking your permission to tell. You nodded his way.

“Ellie Savanah Uley” everything was perfect 🎀

A/N: use whatever name you love!

[thornsinmycrown]

STAY SOFT

DARK!DOCTOR STRANGE x AFAB!READER

warning(s): [ MDNI +18 ] no use of y/n, afab!reader, use of petnames (hon/honey) eventual smut, 18+ dark content, yandere dynamics, minors do not interact. word count: 2,6k.

summary: years have been passing by, years where nothing seemed to be fortunate for Doctor Stephen Strange on his quest for greatness that until the key of happiness presented in front of him, you.

CHAPTER TWO.

You splashed the water and rubbed your skin harshly, the cooling sensation wasn’t enough to wash away the fact that you just got out of one of the most embarrassing interviews in your life. You surely never thought the day one of them could surpass your first job interview would come, but you were just living it now.

Your reflection gave away how much you did not want to go out, mostly because you weren't in the mood to put your face in front of Stephen, you wanted to avoid him like the plague, lock yourself inside your cubicle all day and kiss goodbye the bother to over explain what you meant back there — you knew he would want an apology.

 Apology for what? For nothing, it was clear you didn't owe any explanations, yet, how could you be so cruel to hurt little doctor Stephen Strange's feelings?

And as you left the bathroom, you didn't walk too far until you saw with the corner of your eye that he was getting closer to you. You walked pretty fast, you had years of practice during the residency, however, he was taller and his long legs gave him the enough advantage to walk faster than you and to block your entrance to the room with his arm.

"Hey" he smoothly said, leaning his arm on the threshold to block you from entering.

You crossed your arms and sighed.

"Hey" you replied, a bit harshly.

"I don't mean to give it more importance than the one it had at its moment, but" the emphasis on that damn syllable was it, "what was that…? You know, the…" He did signs with his hands, pointing fingers and feigning disgust.

He was mimicking you, exaggerating every aspect of your denial in the intimacy of your relationship, he was offended and you knew it was going to happen, he was just trying to register how could you dismiss your "friendship" like that. He chuckled.

"It was the truth" your tone had an obvious tone, "we've never been more than colleagues" you shrugged, taking his forearm to pass through below it.

"Well, I thought we were past that" he, like in little occasions, was hesitant, and that caused you to be hesitant too.

"How exactly?".

"We're friends" he was embarrassed now, by the way he scratched his chin, "we had known each other for years, sometimes you know what I'm going to say before I say it or guess what I want to eat…" he was quickly interrupted.

"That doesn't make us friends", you were forthright, "that just tells me I know your habits" you stepped in front of him and he was sure he felt his heartbeat fastening just from having you this close alone.

"To me, that's what a friendship sounds like" he disagreed with your vision and the war was just starting, "how am I not your friend?" he reproached.

You tilted your head and gave him a serious expression, what you were about to say wasn't going to be nice to him, nonetheless, not saying it could carry serious consequences to both in your professional setting.

“When’s my birthday?”, he gave you a quirky expression to make clear he didn’t understand why you brought up that question, “okay, I’ll use a different one, what am I allergic to?”

“Peanuts” he answered immediately with an obvious smirk, and it could have meant a small victory if only it wasn't because he was wrong.

You gave a small tired sigh and crossed your arms.

“I’m allergic to sunflowers”, your voice had that mixture of tiredness and seriousness that he only heard in you when performing in the operating room and you could see a bit of genuine sadness in his eyes before trying to turn it up on you.

“And when is my birthday?” He didn’t mean to be completely insolent, but how else could he play victim?

“November sixth”.

Smooth and blunt. You were so sure of yourself because you were right, and his twitching smile desperately covering the frustration caused by your good memory —and therefore lack of his— on his face gave away that he hadn't been doing his homework properly. His interests weren't where they should be.

“It’s easy to guess,” he said nonchalantly, trying to take the weight out of your words, yet even his puppy dog eyes brightly looking back at yours showed how impressed he was that you cared to remember —because he knew you weren’t the type to remember numbers so easily.

“Except everyone else’s birthdates are in March or May or June” your slight revelation gave him the chance to make a new guess at your birth date, and with no hesitation he babbled an answer.

“June twenty-first!”.

It wasn’t your birth date, it was another co-worker’s.

“No, and stop guessing, it’s not a game, Stephen!” you shut your eyes and scrunched your nose, "what I mean is, when was the last time you did something nice for me or anybody besides yourself?" He opened his mouth and raised his finger to make a sharp point before being interrupted.  "And I mean something without expecting to earn anything back from me, something that doesn't involve work or trying to pick me up".

He felt like a schoolboy now. Shy and embarrassed, he hadn’t felt like that since eighth grade, when one of his classmates made fun of the shape of his nose, except you were now making fun of his feelings. He never had the intention of thinking badly about you, nonetheless, the evidence was there, and when his raised finger slowly fell down and his chest deflated, you started to have second thoughts about what was happening between you two. He looked truly devastated by your words.

You walked to him and placed a hand in his forearm, a simple contact that made him feel nude at his recently found vulnerability against you, he felt his blushing cheeks like a mask, improper of himself even, making his shame somewhat bigger. But your gaze was never judgemental, it was compassionate —what would always make you, in his eyes, the one.

“I’m sorry if I’m hurting you with my words” your gaze flickered from his eyes to the background nervously in an attempt to make the situation better, “but I'd rather be honest than lie to your face. I don’t love you. You care about me and I will always be grateful” even when breaking his heart you looked lovely “but I don’t think I’ll be able to care about you the same way you intend to care about me”.

“But— But, I like you” he quickly babbled, “and I know you like me too, I can see it in your eyes” he quickly argued, trying to save the situationship between you two, to make things better.

He was never frontal about his feelings for you, and it was clear this was surprising you, and the fact that you were aware of how he felt just made it more difficult. Stephen was so sure you felt the same way he couldn't understand why you would turn down the opportunity to be together —to be with him.

“That isn't enough” you said with a firm tone, shaking your head and softly tilting it to the side, your shoulders carrying Stephen's disappointment, “liking is not loving”.

It was true, for as long humanity had conveyed the very human condition, it was implied that although loving had the secret ingredient of desiring in the mixture of ágape, it was not vice versa. Desire is not love, as well as, obsession is not the same as being in love.

“So, I'm unlovable?” he was being defensive now.

“That's not what I said” you argued back, scratching your forehead with frustration. “Chemistry is not love, habits are not love, competition either, love is the daily decision of giving, not something you earn as a prize” it didn't matter how much it was explained to him, he didn't want to understand, he was in a total denial of what was going on.

One could expect he would be ready to accept this little defeat, but it wasn't precisely what was going on inside Stephen's mind, he wasn't ready to let go, to lose against a weak opponent such as you. You just didn't realize what you wanted yet —you wanted him.

“I don't think you're a prize” he tried to assure you, to make you understand you were so much more to him than a simple award in his collection.

You were all. You were the question and the answer, the thin line between paradise and hell, the illness and the cure, an itch he couldn't scratch to ease his mind, the only thing in the world he couldn't have and the one he wanted to deserve the most, you were his love and his disgust, all at once.

“And I didn't say I was” you replied quickly, it wasn't an accusation, but it sounded like one.

At that moment he knew he would only make it worse up to that point. None of you had acknowledged yet that he had implied before —and multiple times— his perception of you.

“Listen,” he murmured trying to find in his mind the words that would make himself be convinced if he was you, “I know how this sounds, but it's not like that” the offensive turned defensive, he didn't see it as positive for you to remark this innocent mistake.

“Then how is it?” you didn't even give him a chance to spit an argument to sweeten up your ears, “I'm not ‘something’ Stephen, I'm someone, it was sweet at first but now it's becoming a problem how you—”.

“Oh, now I'm a problem?” he asked with spite, his mind clouding with every judgmental thought that had ever crossed his mind while thinking about you.

“When people start to wonder about my sex life and if it involves you uhm… Yes!” she didn't even blink or flinch, you had a reason to be evasive and he couldn't reason it now “what do you think people will think about that?” 

It would give off the notion that you climbed your way to the top the dirtiest way, something that was unquestionably untrue. Except people wouldn't assume it was untrue, they would give you the looks to announce they already know, and to him the shoulder pats as if receiving an award, the not so subtle ways to denote the prize for the affair.

“So you give importance to what people say?” He asked to test how much you cared for appearances.

If that's what you wanted, he could give you that. The thrill of being secret lovers, of no one else knowing what you two did under the sheets, to fulfill your rawest fantasies in the dim of the unknown.

"When it starts to interfere in how people perceive I interact with my work space, yeah", you were insistent on the matter, not letting him unfold as the poor tormented man who wanted to show the world he was not ashamed of loving you, because that was his truth.

"Very well then, I guess you don't appreciate my company as much as I do yours".

Those words held a spooky weight on you, you didn't want to let your mind wander too much on the thought that he didn't want to work with you anymore since the success you both had reached was thanks to team work —and you weren't afraid to admit he was important to you. For a couple of seconds you pondered if that was worth the risk of trying to convince him to think otherwise, of what you actually thought about him and his performance as a doctor, about his talent and his company, nonetheless, he would not take it as a friendly complement but a triumph, his arrogant self would be full of them, or even in the worse of scenarios, a declaration of love. Yo sighed, deciding to let things end here in this determined note.

"Look Stephen, if that's what you think, who am I to say you're wrong?" your eyes let him know you haven't given up, you just agreed to disagree defiantly and move on knowing uncomfortability was a risk you were willing to take.

And he didn’t like that. He had no choice but to accept it for now, but he disliked the fact you were mature enough to cross words about sensitive topics between you two and not fall for his deceiving emotional blackmail, it triggered his utmost furious nature and he wouldn’t be satisfied until you paid for it.

“See you” you cut out his brief try of continuing the conversation and went ahead with your other tasks for the evening, your morning had already been ruined and getting the chances of having a mildly decent rest of the day was a burden you were focusing on.

Your mind let go of the subject for a couple of hours till the sun hidden, on the other side, Stephen would think of it twisting it and twirling inside his brain like a chicken rotisserie. 

“Ooh” Dr. Bruner intended to walk past you on the line for the cafeteria food before it closed, seeing your face it was not possible to not notice you, you needed another coffee if you wanted to keep being functional “bad day, huh?”.

You turned and smiled at her pressing your lips awkwardly, bags under your eyes not visible yet, both still knew that wouldn’t last, you were modern Cinderella, with the exception that instead of having cute little animal friends helping you out and a handsome prince waiting for you, you would have undereye bags, a tremor in your left hand due to caffeine and red puffy eyes by the end of the shift.

“You have no idea” the words slurred from your mouth, eliciting a giggle that spread to Dr. Bruner’s face as well, however, quickly turned into concern.

“I think I kind of have it, sorry” she was apologizing before time, which made you take out energy out of the deepest insides of your body and start to pay her full attention, “Stephen told me all about it”.

When she said he told her “all about it”, you could only guess he would tell his part of the conflict and cause some type of pity to awaken compassion from others, in the case of that happening, fortunately you both knew he was spreading misinformation to confuse his whole circle. Nasty and old trick he used.

“Please, tell me all about it” the curiosity of knowing what he had made up about you intrigued you —burned you— to no end.

“Oh no, he’s telling everyone nice things about you” she admitted with a sense of awe and kind of shame “and asking everyone to watch the interview tomorrow”.

You furrowed your brow “why?”, she shrugged.

"I don't know, I just wanted to warn you, this time he is really pissed".

You wanted to believe it was just a tantrum, that it’ll pass.

“He’ll get over it, he’s a big kid,” you took your coffee and walked outside to drink it alone in the window Box near the parking lot. 

A pair of eyes were lurking through the big tall window in his office, Stephen found so much pleasure in watching you enjoy the simple things in your life, such as the refined coffee he had asked the hospital’s cook to change specially for you out of his bill, he wouldn’t let you drink the same nasty things other —inferior— people drank. 

And still, you were angry at him, resistant and closed.  Oh, how much he desired for you to see him as what he was, just a man in love.

author's note: hello hello! sorry that it took so long to post this continuation, i've been working on this wip for months and just now i had an inspirational spree to finish it in a tone i liked, also had to re write the plot a couple of times but i'll do my best to post continuously, thank you for reading!!

[sunnybyler]

i’ve been sitting on my thoughts for so long but i just have to get this off my chest. i don’t like to yuck ppls yum so if you like e/riel pls scroll away nd keep having your fun it’s not my problem. however some of y’all can get mean as HELL and as an elucien i have to get this off my chest. (also warning for gwynriels i’m with y’all i defend y’all here however i do go in a bit on az in this so fair warning). i truly have no idea why e/riels cling so hard to the azriel bonus chapter in acosf because that chapter, more than literally anything else in the series, proved to me that e/riel is absolutely NOT going to be endgame. let me explain:

1. it is explicitly stated that azriel did not think of his relationship with elain outside of a sexual nature. i think some ppl get kinda annoyingly puritanical when trying to make this point when it’s like 100% certain lucien had sexual thoughts of elain too. the point isn’t the thoughts themselves. the difference here is the explicit mention that he didn’t consider anything with her outside of that.

2. the point above ^ is further exacerbated by the fact that az did not give a flying fuck if he killed elain’s MATE. even if elain hasn’t accepted the bond, it would still be extremely painful for her based on what we’ve seen with rhys, feyre, and even rhys’s parents (who weren’t good for each other, yet we saw how rhys’s dad lost it when she died). now of course us lucien lovers know damn well he would never in a million years call a blood duel to try to claim elain (and fuck u rhys for saying that, i usually have your back but come ON you are not the only male who can respect their mate’s autonomy). but az doesn’t know that!? in fact seems to agree with rhys that he could. ppl argue on who would win that fight — my opinion hinges 100% on if powers are fully unleashed but that’s not the point at all. no matter WHO wins, elain is going to feel responsible for someone’s death. of course it wouldn’t be her fault if men decided to be fucking stupid, but with the little we know about elain shows that she would feel so guilty if that happened. but azriel doesn’t seem to give af that anyone fighting to the death over her is the last thing she would ever want. not only did az not think of elain outside his fantasies and therefore not fully care for her, but he doesn’t seem to even KNOW elain in this chapter. now, i could go in on this in acosf as a whole. but i’m keeping it to this chapter alone.

3. and further on THAT point, az doesn’t really give any reasoning on his interest in elain outside of this insane “three brothers/three sisters” thing he fully pulled out of his ass. tbh i almost thing this is sjm’s way of addressing the fan theories on that. now i get it to some extent from az’s pov — seeing his brothers happy with these sisters must fuck with your head after you’d all been bachelors together for 500 years. especially considering how he’s felt unworthy of love his whole life and this seems to support that insecurity of his. i get that it makes him feel ostracized from them, and that he’s now an outlier not being with an archeron. i get that. i do. i sympathize with him here. however that does not change the fact that he isn’t speaking of elain like she’s her own individual here — hell he fully calls her “the other”. i think part of this conversation was him being frazzled, i give him a bit more grace than some do (tho he pissed me off BAD in this scene), but we were fully in this man’s head. did he give us a full reason why he liked elain besides his brother’s mates and his sexual thoughts?? they would’ve at least crossed his mind when rhys was grilling them if sjm was trying to set up her next romance here. as it is, we have literally nothing to imply azriel actually likes elain herself and not the idea of being closer with his brothers.

4. az has kinda a habit of ignoring the reality of the women he’s attracted to in some way. he has his own version of them in his head that he puts on a pedestal. now i could do a whole psych eval on this man and how he thinks he’s unworthy of love and therefore only allows himself to have feelings for women he knows/thinks he can’t have. but to focus on this chapter alone, my points above ^ about how he doesn’t really think of elain outside his fantasies/bringing him closer to his brothers and not really understanding her pretty much wraps it up there. i mean he even talks about how he thinks his scarred hands don’t belong on her because she’s so perfect in his eyes. that’s not love, that’s obsession and it’s unhealthy. he clearly thinks himself below elain and ignores that she has her own flaws too.

5. aaaand i saved the biggest for (almost) last….. GWYN. this is a genuine GENUINE question. why in the fucking hell. would sjm make half the chapter focusing on az & gwyn if she was teasing e/riel. like that makes no sense. not to be annoying and mention chekhov's gun but that idea applies to relationships too. i’m sorry but she couldn’t be more explicit about her future romances. you could argue “oh well it’s because there’s gonna be a love triangle”. y’all. elain has. elain has a mate. there already IS a love triangle. there was absolutely no reason for her to bring gwyn into this chapter other than her preparing us for a future relationship, literally none. especially with all the romantic subtext (hell not even subtext, just TEXT). gwyn getting him to talk about himself so easily when he’s so quiet usually, him taking the idea of making her happy and he “buried the image down deep, where it GLOWED QUIETLY” (which SCREAMS mating bond to me but even if it’s not it’s clearly something he cherishes deeply), the SHADOWSINGERS SHADOWS SANG FOR HER!?

6. the fucking necklace regifting. oh it’s bad. OHHH ITS BAD. when the girls realize it’s gonna be SO messy but im hoping sjm doesn’t go the stupid cat fight route bc neither of them did anything wrong. az did. i’m sorry i’m dunking on him so much in this post i rlly don’t hate him i just think he needs like decades of therapy (which tbf don’t we all) which i unfortunately don’t think sjm is going to give him before giving him his romance. but even the biggest azriel lovers have to admit that this was insanity. a few points on it here. first, if it’s so easily regiftable then it couldn’t have been that well thought out in regards to elain. say what you will about lucien’s gifts, even argue that he gave her jewelry too. but elain was actually shown wearing pearls. az’s gift seemed shallow to me — it was something pretty, and elain’s pretty, and it had a flower, and elain gardens. it’s clear lucien put SO much more thought into his gifts, whether he succeeded or not (which i need to remind y’all — we still don’t know. maybe she liked the gifts maybe she didn’t, but regardless she acted the way she did bc of her feelings about the bond, not the gift). and azriel has spent so much more time with elain than lucien has. if that necklace really felt like elain to him, he could’ve kept it or returned it. but nope. buddy gave it to a whole other girl bc he could easily associate it with someone else. he clearly felt some special pull towards gwyn too, going out of his way to give it to her. he had ONE meaningful conversation with her. i already discussed the quote earlier that makes me think mating bond personally. but no matter what, him giving her the same gift he gave someone he was pursuing romantically is a clear sign of what’s to come (and probably a setup for some sort of drama that i don’t think im mentally ready for).

so there we have it! why i think that the bonus chapter thoroughly proves that e/riel is not going to be endgame. i honestly think it’s possible they might be a thing for a minute (tho i could also see this being the closing of that chapter), but i don’t think it’s going to last. sjm just gave us too many blatant hints that elain and az would NOT work together long term, and that azriel in particular is more suited for someone else. i might’ve missed some points bc there is SO much that goes down in this tiny chapter so lmk if there’s other stuff you picked up on!

[writerpey]

I don’t fully remember what my request was. /gen

I think it was a Turning Red request where Mei gets stressed and regresses to babyspace and Ming and Jin care for her

very sweet ficlet to write! I’ve never done a turning red agere fic nor disney in general, so this was a treat. pls enjoy! <3

One Happy Family - Regressor Mei Lee & Her Parents

Mei was feeling really small today. Her head felt all fuzzy since waking up all groggy in the morning before school, and she couldn’t shake it enough to do as well as she wanted on her math test. Miriam had rolled her eyes when Mei complained about it, Priya gave her a pat on the shoulder, and Abby, even while trying to comfort her, said something along the lines of “don’t tell your mom!”

It’s safe to say she was completely frazzled and tired by the time she came home, marching straight to her room and lying on her bed with Wilfred clutched tight to her chest. Jin wouldn’t be home until the evening, and Mei sniffled a little, wanting nothing more than to spend some time with her dad. Soon enough, there was a soft knock on her door and the handle was twisting, Ming coming in to check on the uncharacteristically quiet girl.

“Mei-Mei sweetie? What’s going on?” Ming asked gently, coming to sit on the edge of Mei’s bed, pressing her palm to her daughter’s forehead. “Are you feeling alright?”

Mei turned away from Ming, snuffling into Wilfred as she faced the wall. Ming frowned, softly running her hand through Mei’s fiery red hair. “Meilin. You need to use your words, honey. Did you change at school again?” Her voice was stern yet comforting at the same time, laced with concern as she thought about the possibility that Mei’s panda had made an appearance at school.

“Didn’t.” Came Mei’s short reply, tiny and wavering.

Ming immediately understood what was going on, and hushed Mei with a kiss to the top of her head. “Dad will be home soon, okay? We’ll get some food into you and watch a movie. How’s that sound?”

A small noise of affirmation left Mei’s lips, and suddenly she was crawling into her mother’s lap, Wilfred squished between them as she laid her head down on the elder’s shoulder.

“Okay, okay. Let’s get you settled.” Ming chuckled lightly, peeling a sniffly and nonverbal Mei from her shoulder, fluffing her pillows and moving some of her plushies to get the regressed girl comfortable.

As Mei squirmed into a comfy position, Ming pulled the covers up and placed another kiss on her head. “I’m proud of you, honey.” She murmured, taking Mei’s Tamagatchi from the bedside table and handing it to the girl, who took it and shook it with wide eyes instead of actually pressing the buttons.

With that, Ming let Mei have her space, keeping the bedroom door open so she could pass by every so often to check on her daughter, happily babbling to her stuffed animals and looking over to her 4Town posters plastered on her walls.

As soon as Jin came home, Ming greeted her husband with a kiss and explained to him that yes, their daughter was regressed again, and she most likely had a bad day today. Jin stepped into Mei’s room in a hurry, stopping and smiling tenderly as he watched her. A very tired Mei was drifting in and out of sleep, one of Wilfred’s little brown ears in her mouth.

“Hi, Mei-Mei.” He kneeled next to the bed and ran a finger along her puffy cheeks, rousing her from her slumber.

Mei blinked her eyes open and yawned widely, her face brightening as soon as she saw her dad. With a squeak of excitement she jumped out of bed and threw her arms around him, pointing eagerly to the bedroom door.

“I think Mei-Mei might be hungry. Am I right?” He chuckled and picked her up, heading to the kitchen where Ming was plating dinner.

“Hun’ry!” Mei proclaimed, wiggling in Jin’s arms and clumsily shifting in her chair as he sat her down at the table.

Dinner was a messy affair, half the liquid from Mei’s soup dumplings ending up on her shirt, but the baby was happy nonetheless. All of her worries from earlier in the day had faded with the time spent with her parents, small and joyous.

After eating, Ming led Mei back to her room to change into a fuzzy pair of pyjamas as Jin got the projector set up in the living room for a movie night.

Mei and Ming came back to the living room with the little on wobbly feet, Wilfred in one hand as she held onto Ming’s shirt for balance with the other. She practically collapsed into Jin’s lap on the couch with a giggle, squeezing in close next to him as Ming sat on her other side.

“What do you want to watch, Mei-Mei? Are you happy with a Disney movie?” Her dad asked, putting an arm around her and holding her close.

Mei clapped in agreement and let out a soft huff of contentment as the movie started playing. Halfway through, Ming left to make Mei a cup of warm angel milk, a little cinnamon, vanilla and sugar all mixed into her treasured sippy cup. The little took it from her mom gratefully, and as soon as she finished it she was asleep against Jin’s shoulder and her dad carefully picked her up.

Both parents tucked her into bed, the warm glow of the lamp in her room clicking off as they kissed her goodnight and Jin made sure Wilfred was secure in her arms and closed the door halfway. With smiles and Jin’s arm around his wife’s waist, the family was happy and more than content. Mei deserved all the love in the world, and they would always give it to her.

<3

[csbenthusiast]

May your heart never stop beating for me - Choi Yeonjun X f!reader

a/n: *ahem* hi😭 it’s been a long looong while since I last wrote something and posted in here(my apologies), but ummmm this is a comeback ? sort of? idk, but what I know is that this was sitting on my docs app FOR SO SO LONG LIKE SINCE FEBRUARY and it was supposed to be out on Halloween and then on Christmas but I got sick😬 anyways consider this a miracle and a late gift 😀 (I’m also planning a Soob fic that was supposed to be out on his birthday but shhhhhlets not talk about it for now).

a/n²: y’all I lied😨 I’m late once again, but what matters is that it’s finally here!! Literally a year later 😀 and ummm I tried to mix two ways of writing this, so I hope it was not confusing!

Genre: angst? it’s bittersweet.

CW: toxic relationship (nothing to worry about, YJ and mc just go back and forth), language, Yeonjun has a bad behavior(I’m not sorry, I was feeling very angsty), implied suggestive touches? they both need each other in a not so healthy way. Lemme know if I missed something!

WC: 2.2k

disclaimer: this only fiction and does not represent this idol in any way.

Pls enjoy and give me feedbacks:DDD they make me very happy (English is not my first language, excuse any mistakes 😙)

Songs I listened while writing this: here

The weather outside was definitely a mood killer. As the days passed by, October just got colder and colder. And it’s not like the chilly weather wasn’t nice, in fact, it was actually quite pleasant.

The season was nice, sure. But spending the days alone was not on your ‘to do’ list, to be honest.

Yeonjun left without even explaining himself once again. Everyday life seemed meaningless and the urge to check up on him was growing more and more.

It was worthless, though. Why bother yourself when he has never put you on the top of his priority list? Was it too much to ask?

Despite that, here you were, almost 10pm on a Tuesday trying to cheer up your mood with a random movie playing on the TV.

It was a terrible film, though. The best option was probably going to sleep, but you knew better; going to bed meant reminiscing everything until the first ray of sunshine was peeking through the curtains.

In the end, you tried to go through that mess.

And, somehow, that thing was able to get your attention to the point where you ended up startled by the sound of the doorbell.

You tried to ignore it at first, too scared to check who it was, but it rang again. Was it a murder? No, no murder would ring the doorbell before making a victim.

In defeat, and dragging your feet to where the door was, you took a look through the peephole and, right now, the person outside was probably worse than a murder.

Yeonjun couldn’t be on the other side in the middle of the night, right? It was like he read your mind.

You twisted the keys in a hurried move, though. Being curious sometimes was a curse.

“Hey.” It’s the only thing he bothered to say, looking at his feet like he was ashamed. As if.

“What are you doing here?” You hissed, not really sure of how you were supposed to feel. It’s kind of bittersweet.

He was still looking at the ground, but you took notice of how Yeonjun was shivering. Was it due to the cold and the lack of clothes? You’re not sure.

“I…” a sigh escaped his chapped “I don’t know, all the roads lead me here at the end of the day, I suppose.” It was an attempt to cheer up the mood, but by the look on your face he quickly replaced his smile with a frown.

Two pairs of eyes bored into each other, and it was clear that you were anything but pleased to see him standing by your doorstep. But, again, being good could be a curse, perhaps.

It was cold outside, and Yeonjun was shivering. Maybe you should invite him inside. Unfortunately, you did.

Huening Kai will have to deal with this later, I guess.

"Come on, you're clearly cold." You stepped aside, making room for him. "I can make some tea if you'd like. What do you say?"

"That's what I like about you, Y/N." Yeonjun winked "You're always looking out for me." and made himself comfortable on her couch.

"Do you deserve it, though?" the girl mumbled, occupying herself in the kitchen.

Meanwhile, the older boy was looking around the room and hallway. A few things changed; the picture you two took back in July was no longer hanging on the wall and a few decorations were out of place. Odd.

"Hey, Y/N?" he called, receiving back a hum. "Where's our photo? You know, the one you're kissing my cheek."

The nerve. Where does he think it went?

"What do you mean 'Where's our photo'?" She scoffed, dropping a few things while doing so. "I put it in a box, of course" and mumbled loud enough for Yeonjun to hear.

The boy frowned as if she said the most horrible thing in the world. How could she put it in a box? Does that mean their relationship meant nothing to her?

"I can see the gears turning inside your head." Y/N said from behind, which scared him a little. Did you have a sixth sense or something? "Don't think too much about it… or do, it's up to you since I don't have a say in any of our conversations anyways."

Now, that definitely bruised his ego. Why were you being so passive aggressive all of sudden?

"What's wrong?" He asked, sitting by the couch once again.

Is he playing dumb? Or is he just trying to get under my skin?

Y/N bitterly chuckled. You surely could've ignored him when he knocked on your fucking door a few minutes ago, but you didn't and now you had to deal with his stupid behavior.

No, wait. Why were you complaining, though? You were the one who agreed to play his little games, right? Little games? Is that what this is?

"Hey, Y/N, look at me, will you?" Ah, it took him long enough. He used that sweet tone; he always did. Maybe that's his curse, being awfully sweet yet such a jerk sometimes. "What's wrong? Now I'm the one who's able to see the gears in your head." He chuckled and grabbed her hands, gesturing for Y/N to sit beside him.

His touch sent shivers down her spine, but it’s not like she would admit it. And Yeonjun must’ve noticed that, because he took this opportunity to bring Y/N closer to his body with a hug.

That touch was supposed to be an act of comfort, but it only made her feel more anxious than when she saw his face earlier that night. However, it was impossible to ignore his scent; y/n’s senses were drowning with every touch and breath lingering on her skin. Yeonjun was sneaky, he moved his hand off her arms and stroked her back, and, maybe, just maybe, y/n’s heart started to beat a little bit faster and louder.

Perhaps that’s your curse. Yeonjun always found a way to drive you insane, and you always tried to push his buttons. But by the end of the day, you two would always get back together. Saying that it would be the last time you’d hurt each other was pointless, because it was not the truth.

Despite everything, y/n wanted to be mad, sad and let everything out. But she couldn’t, her mind was a complete mess with every brush of his fingers on her skin.

“Hey, you seem off.” Yeonjun brought her face closer to his by holding her chin.

“Am I now?” Y/N flinched at his touch, face burning with the proximity. Your body betraying your emotions made him smirk.

Yeonjun’s breath was against her neck, with lips slightly brushing over her ear.

“Yes, you are.” He whispered. “Kitten, talk to me. Why are your walls suddenly up, hm?” And planted a kiss by her pulse point.

This situation was uncomfortable, to say the least. But it’s not like you wanted him to stop.

Really? He should stop. You had to stop it.

“I hate you…” y/n’s breath hitched. She pushed him away, but that was not enough. He frowned and tried to get closer to you at all costs. “I hate you for lying to me. And…and for running away when you sensed something was wrong. You always do that and then come back here to say it’s the last time, but let’s be honest, we both know it’s not the last time and…”

Yeonjun kept quiet the whole time. He knew you were right, it was a very good point, but he wouldn’t admit it. As always, he tried to stand up for himself.

“Come on, Y/N, that’s not true. We both know that.” his thumb grazed the line of her upper lip and her whole body tingled at the touch.

You were better than that, of course. Your hands wrapping around his wrists to push him away were enough of a sign to startle him.

“You’re making me look like some fucking crazy ex-boyfriend.” His words were sharp; sharp enough to make Y/N chuckle and cry at the same time.

Maybe that's what he is. Ex-boyfriend. The words matched his actions, but why hearing or even saying it out loud left a bitter taste in your mouth?

“Maybe that’s what you are.” hurt was evident in her voice. “You run away, fuck some other girl and then come back to me expecting everything will be alright? I’m tired, Yeonjun. And I’d appreciate it if you could just…leave me alone.”

He went silent. The room grew silent once again, and the only sound that dared break the silence was the soft thuds of his heart. His breath hitched, but he put on an act with a scoff, trying his best to look unfazed.

What else was he expecting? She was right, he messed up one too many times. Even when they did reconcile, it never lasted long.

After a few minutes of thinking, and an endless amount of silence, he looked at her with a sly smile curling his lips.

“Kitten, has anyone made you feel as good as I do? I don’t think so…” his lips widened even more with every second.

And, maybe, just maybe, he was right, and thinking about it left a bitter taste on your mouth. No one has ever made you feel like he did; does. Did it really matter if he shattered your heart? By the end of the day he would be just Yeonjun, the loving, caring and stupid boy you met through your friends.

Yeonjun could read you like a book, but you never really tried to hide your feelings or reactions either. Just the subtle brush of his fingertips on your arm was enough to get him under your skin again.

It’s all too overwhelming.

“You like this, don’t you?” He whispered. “It’s a cat and mouse game. Excited much?” Yeonjun added.

Oh, yes. This was nothing but a game.

Right before his eyes y/n was clearly aching. But you didn’t have anywhere to hide, did you? You opened the door and let him in.

It’s just you and me now, she thought.

“Who wins in the end?” Y/n looked at him with a bored expression, but in reality everything about her was fragile now.

Despite that, Yeonjun kept a smug look on his face, bringing her close to him. It was obvious what he was thinking.

“I’m not quite sure. Wanna find out?” He licked his lips and kissed her cheek.

His breath was hot on your collar, making you loudly swallow. He moved his mouth from your face to your ear, then jawline and lastly the neck, making you whole body shiver with the contact, a human contact you missed for weeks.

“Why do you treat me like this?” She mumbled, too dizzy with his touches.

���Now, that’s not what I asked, love. Do you want to find out how this game ends?”

A tear dared to almost run down your face. You wouldn’t let Yeonjun do that to you, though.

“M-mouse…” Y/N whispered. “Mouse wins.”

Yeonjun seemed amused by your response, which made his grin widen; you couldn’t properly speak without wanting to break right in front of him.

He pulled away from you, going back on his feet.

Is he going away again? You thought right before he offered his hands for you to take. And so you did, just like you did a few months ago.

Surprisingly, the palm of his hands were really warm and welcoming. Who would’ve thought, right?

“You’re so pretty, princess…” Yeonjun smoothed your hair and dragged his thumb across your lips.

Pretty? It’s more like ‘weak’.

He was asking for something, that was a fact even if unspoken. You couldn’t blame him, could you? He was just this good at turning the tables, so good to the point he would make you feel weak and break for him.

“You’re not supposed to be here…” That was everything y/n was able to reply. She was confused, frustrated. Why was he doing all of this? To torture you?

But it felt good, though; having him there in the middle of the living room under the dim lights of the apartment. You didn’t want to be alone, it was not a good option.

However, it was impossible to ignore the tension growing in the air.

Before she could think some more, Yeonjun stumbled with her into the kitchen, being quick to press a soft kiss on her lips and placing her on top of the counter.

It was a short touch of lips, but enough to make y/n sparkle inside and also shake with anxiety. He did know how to be convincing.

“This is the last time I tell you’ve got it wrong…the last time I’ll run away.” He mumbled, chin resting on her shoulder while she caressed his covered back.

“Only if you promise me your heart won’t ever stop beating for me.”

He nodded, a silent agreement.

Was it really?

“I promise.” Yeonjun smirked, holding y/n on his arms and dragging her down the hallway straight to her room.

Heh happy Valentine’s Day y’all

[rxyhiraeth]

SO PJO CAME OUT TODAY

and i have a lot of thoughts

this is just me screaming into the void about this show that i’ve been excited about since it’s been announced.

i haven’t personally really read the books in a bit, so if i am remembering things incorrectly or forgetting if something was in the books or not, forgive me (and correct me and my terrible memory)

OBVIOUSLY SPOILERS AHEAD

EPISODE 1: I Accidentally Vaporize My Pre-Algebra Teacher

first off - chapter titles. i knew about this a while ago but im so happy we are doing this

getting the whole speech from percy in the beginning oh we are so back

blackjack??? that was blackjack right??

MYTHOMAGIC CARDS

if this gets us actual mythomagic cards we can buy, so help me god. i’m gonna spend all my money on them

i will never be able to speak highly enough about sally jackson. best fictional mom ever and i love her with all of my heart.

the “hold fast perseus. brave the storm” parallel at the beginning and end of the episode oh i’m sick to my stomach

the fountain scene felt a little… goofy? from what i remember percy just remembers her ending up in the fountain,like it sounds like he kinda blacks out. maybe that’s actually how it was in the books, but i did imagine it differently.

grover and brunner being the KINGS of gaslighting

percy is stronger than i could ever be if grover exposed me like that i couldn’t talk to him for like a year.

the biggest issue i’ve seen everyone talk about: gabe. i understand WHY they made him how he is in the tv show. it’s a disney show, they can’t have him be completely book accurate putting his hands on sally and threatening percy for money so he can play poker, but i feel like this doesn’t fit with how he ends up at the end of book 1. maybe we will see a more ‘evil’ side to him through the news interviews and stuff, or he will have a different ending, but i feel like the way he acts now doesn’t justify his end in book 1 that i expect to see in the tv show.

sally in the rain listening to olivia rodrigo i love her so much 😭😭😭

d’angelos??? it’s spelled differently but reference perhaps? i cannot WAIT to see nico i hope we get to see him in the casino

i didn’t get this until i saw someone point it out but the cuts to black were ends of chapters!! and it makes so much more sense. i will say it feels a bit odd?? but i honestly prefer it more as someone who has read the books.

i find the whole sally explaining the gods to percy interesting. it fits for the tv show more, but i love book percy just getting forced into camp half blood without any real knowledge just like “what the fuck is going on”

“Like… like Jesus?” PERCY PLS

i love this grover reveal, but the BEST will forever be the musical

“She was a fury!” “YOU’RE a furry, WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR LEGS?!?”

grover dropping the fact he is 24 in a super intense scene is very grover

that first shot of thalia’s tree lit up by the LIGHTNING gave me CHILLS

the entire minotaur scene was incredible. sally’s speech to grover and percy. percy killing the minotaur. insane

not to mention sally taking percy’s jacket to throw off the minotaurs scent? such a cool choice

EPISODE 2: I Become Supreme Lord of the Bathroom

"you droll when you sleep" YUPPP MHMM YUP

ik that the whole 'Mr. D trying to use percy to get a drink' thing is supposed to be a little joke, but its also such a good way to explain the whole "gods can get their kids to steal shit for them because they can't do it themselves" without having a whole dramatic moment explaining it.

in my head I imagined the entire camp being very heavily wooded, maybe that's just the movies having some influence over me when it comes to visualization, but it was cool to see the camp in the actually valley in a very book accurate portrayal.

OH THE CABINS MY EYES WERE GLUED THE WHOLE TIME

THEY LOOK SO GOOD

this tv show has already captured the two personally traits of percy jackson: 1. he loves his mom 2. he hates the gods

the jelly beans

seeing Luke befriend percy and be his first friend at camp luke I am in your fucking walls

I personally feel like the way they have chosen to portray clarisse is quite different from the books, but I absolutely love it. i was not a fan of her for a while in the books, but I love her immediately in this version.

also did we get to 'see' the cloven council in tlt? I don't think we did, and I like seeing it in prep for sea of monsters.

the entire scene of percy praying to his mom breaks me. oh my god. favorite scene in the entire show so far. it breaks my heart he loves and misses her so much.

"I think I've made some friends here. like real friends" luke I have a gun

the whole bathroom scene. that's it.

ANNABETH

maybe its just different seeing all these characters portrayed well on the screen, but she feels super different than book annabeth but also exactly the same. im not 100% how to explain it but there is no one better to play annabeth than leah

I am so excited to see this slowburn all over again

"she my little sister" luke please

thalia name pronunciation how are we feeling team

i have 100% been pronouncing it the other way this whole time but oh well

"sunshine" hey! when we get the first "seaweed brain" I am going to go crazy

"percy's on it. when its time he's gonna be ready" are you sure about that luke

in the books the main 'introduction scene' we got with clarisse was the bathrooms, but this scene with her in the woods feel much more like an introduction scene and im not sure if this was done on purpose, but I love her and this scene.

annabeth. I cannot stress my love for her enough

annabeth pushing him into the water instead of him falling. love her

percy FINALLY finding a place he belongs only to be forced out on a quest for his dad that he fucking hates

"good kid" from tlt musical was so right

"I am Sally Jackson's son!" what if I just started eating glass rn

anyway I am absolutely obsessed with this show already. I am so sorry to anyone who doesn't want pjo on their feed you are getting it anyway.

if this show is your first introduction to the series. read the books! or at least the lightning thief. and for the love of god LISTEN TO THE MUSICAL. I cannot stress enough how good of a portrayal of the book it is and it is my all time favorite interpretation of the books (although this show may take that top spot soon).

[paopaupaus]

part 6 of The Buddie Development by moi ->

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10

S2:E17 Careful What You Wish For

This is the part where we get more into the development and less into the Buddie, but i’m willing to jot down anything that seems relevant, just for you 😚 Eddie is happy, Shannon (Chris’s mom) is being present, Christopher is happy, they are having a good day at the beach, but when inevitably Shannon asks “what are we?” Eddie gets doubts, he is indecisive about making the relationship that he “always wanted” and what seems easy, official.

Eddie is working on his marriage, and asks Buck if he has to remarry since they were separated, but Buck tells him it’d be better if he asks Bobby since he’s the one who knows about that stuff.

At this point, i don’t think either of them realize they have a man-crush on each other. Wanting to kiss you friend against a wall isn’t fruity, right? we’re just really good friends 🥰

S2:E18 Life As We Choose

This is one of my least favorite episodes cause Buck gets crushed by the firetruck :”( i couldn’t help but notce that Eddie went in the ambulance ride with him, even though the paramedics (Hen and Chim) were already there and he didn’t have any need to be there. remember only one official family member is allowed to go in the ambulance, Bobby stayed behind, but not Eddie. do you think he held Buck’s hand? 😫✋

~days later~ When they’re at the station the team welcomes Bobby (after he almost got fired), and Hen says “things are finally getting back to the way they should be” and trust Eddie to look sad and say “almost” ☹️😔

When Maddie is going to take Buck to Eddie’s ceremony for finishing his probation period she says that he shouldn’t go because he should focus on his health, but Buck is keen on going and says that it is more important. and i think it’s such a cute moment when they are about to hug and they have to work around the crutches, doing like a little awkward dance.

S3:E1 Kids Today

5 months have passed and Buck is just about to get re-certified to be a firefighter, but he throws multiple clots and can’t come back, here comes the hard stuff 😭😤

When Buck refuses to get out of bed and out of his loft for weeks, Eddie (obviously) is the one who goes and forces him out. He knows how to work Buck, so he leaves Christpoher to be looked after for the day, Eddie to Chris: “he’s hanging out with HIS Buck todaaayy!” grinning so wide.

And not Buck working out his issues career wise with Chris😭 he’s such a child you guys.

S3:E2-3 Sink or Swim/The Searchers

hi guys. um… i can’t see through my tears. i have to warn you if you plan on watching season 3 be ready for the tsunami episodes, i haven’t stop crying pls send help. i don’t even know how to explain this but the way that Buck would do AND DID everything and more for Chris is just beyond words, it’s beyond Love. i can’t think of an episode that expresses what Eddie and Chris and Buck have for eachother more than this one. i saw a gif of when Eddie grabs Buck’s shoulder (after the tsunami, back in Buck’s loft, the next day probably) and OP said “if anyone worked that hard to keep eye contact with me i would have to marry them” Eddie phisically follows Bucks line of sight and reassures him that he trusts him more than anyone with his kid/life. 😭

now that the tears have dried and i rewatched the scene i can say that they are so funny together.

Buck: you want Me? to watch Christopher?

Eddie: it’s easy. he’s not very fast.

😭🏃‍♂️

Buck: i lost him eddie

Eddie: no you saved him. that’s how he remembers it. Now it’s his turn to do the same for you.

Eddie: *reassuring Buck* I’ve failed him more times than i can count, and i’m his father, but i love him enough to keep trying and i know you do too, Buck. there’s nobody in this world who i trust with my son more than you.

I’m in love with these two idiots. i had never connected so much with fictional characters, and it is not just them but the whole cast in 911, they are doing and amazing job 🫶 so that is it for this post, hope you like it, and comment your opinions so we can talk!

[darkmatilda]

Finally finished the bolter, so here are my comments (yes, I'm always going to do this as a numbered list now it's the only way to categorise my thoughts)

1. I love the bolter (the song) very, very much, and I think the way you tied the lyrics into the plot was really clever. Your description of the feeling she gets when leaving was perfect, and I loved how you tied in the story with the ice

2. Glasses spencer is in my top 3 reid eras (controversially, it ranks higher than boyband reid), and he's just perfect for this fic it makes so much sense

3. I'm an early season criminal minds girl and having elle and Gideon in a fic makes me very happy. I love elle so much she was perfect

4. I'm beginning to think you just like ending fics in a way that leaves people desperate for a part 2? If your planning a part 2 please do and here are my tiny little requests:

○"Splendidly selfish, charmingly helpless, Excellent fun 'til you get to know her" are possibly some of the best taylor swift lines ever and they're from the bolter which is something to take into consideration...

○if you're looking to make a sad part two where they decide to be friends again and he has to watch her go be with other people from a distance 'not strong enough' and 'waiting room' are songs that could be taken into consideration (or phoebe bridgers whole discography)

In summary I loved it, make more song inspired fics and glasses spencer is elite

finally replying to this message bc i had to think through how to answer MAINLY BC YOU GAVE ME SUCH A GENIUS IDEA

i’ll start making annotations to your comments so i don’t miss any of those precious thoughts of yours ❣️

1. while writing this i’ve listened to "the bolter" so many times that if someone woke me up in the middle of the night and told me to sing it, i’d do it effortlessly. I JUST LOVE TAYLOR'S SONGWRITING IN TTPD (i’m a huge fan of taylor’s painful and sad songs bc our mother just knows how to capture those feelings so perfectly, i bow down to loml, the black dog, the prophecy, how did it end...maybe i should write something inspired by those...)

2. glasses spencer and post-prison are my fav tbh 😵‍💫 not a big fan of the boyband era, don’t hate me now pls

3. first season forever in my heart, though i remember wanting to skip ahead bc the later ones seemed more interesting and the fandom was only talking about them...seasons 1&2 don’t get enough credit!

4. i generally have a problem with endings bc I HATE SWEET AND SUGARY ONES, there needs to be at least a hint of pain for the fanfic to stay in your heart longer :> i also love interpreting open endings. even though with the light off was supposed to have an open ending, i caved and wrote (to soothe my and your broken hearts), but this time i don’t plan on doing that, i mean continuing the story from the same point where i ended it (in hotch’s office).

the continuation will be after a time skip where it’s explained that spencer and reader agreed it’d be better to stay friends like they were before AND THIS IS WHERE MY PROBLEM COMES IN

bc i had an idea for the continuation and even started writing (which i’ll explain soon without spoilers ofc) BUT THEN YOU CAME ALONG WITH MUCH BETTER IDEAS

spencer watching her meet others in the same way she met him and realizing he’s not special to her...though ofc it’s not true but he doesn’t know that....god not strong enough would fit SO WELL there

but i don’t really want to end the story on a sad note...i don’t want to end it at all actually bc i had more of an idea for a fanfic series with the same reader that would be connected but in a way where you wouldn’t need to read the previous ones in order

i started writing a fanfic called "alaska nights" where the story takes place some time later (up to a few months, maybe a year) and bau goes to alaska to solve a case and then something starts pulling them together again, eventually they can’t resist and agree that as long as they’re in alaska, they can sleep together, but after that, their relationship will go back to where it was, and bc of that agreement they decide they have to make the most of this pact and visit each other every night 🤗 keeping it a secret from the rest of the team to avoid awkward questions (but queen elle figures it out anyway)

and not to toot my own horn but i really like this idea, but on the other hand, your idea moved me just as much, so here’s my proposal: at the start of december, "alaska nights" will drop (a very light and funny story to let the readers breathe from all the angst...) and then something from spencer’s perspective??? set directly after, showing his pain over their relationship resetting AGAIN, probabably inspired by "not strong enough" but i’m super open to suggestions, i personally love phoebe bridgers too <33

i know i’m repeating myself girl but your engagement seriously moves me, like when i post something, i wait impatiently for a notification from you 😭

[rinhaler]

The anon who just found out u were fuwushiguro here!!

Yes I absolutely understand the frustration from not performing as well with follower count to likes ratio - as an artist who used to be quite popular and likes went from thousands to only like seventy. At some point you feel like you’re not doing it for you, but actually for others. I’m happy you realised the happiness can come from writing and not only hate.

The friend who left you I can also relate to a bit, my ex best friend of 6 years also left me quite recently and it was like there was an empty hole in me because even if you’re not friends anymore, your brain can’t quite handle the change. I’m so sorry that happened to you, but the greatest challenge is to not only hold yourself to one person but to be open and try new possibilities, and that’s what you’ve seemed to done! You have new friends, new mental attitude, and a brand new beautiful blog (that I love the theme of btw!!!) You’re doing great and will continue to do so, because if there are 100 rinhaler fans I’m one of them, if there are 10 rinhaler fans I’m one of them and if there are none, I’m dead.

Also to the question you had, idk it’s just the way you describe certain things..? It’s hard to explain, I have about 50 fanfic blogs that I really love the writing of and fuwushiguro was one of them. Your world building, character description as well as development, SO GOOD!! And your wusyaname series was amazing, I used to check your blog religiously for any updates, and I’m happy you’re reuploading them here bc now I’m gonna reread them every week!

Also the way you wrote yuuji in the aita!sukuna fic was extremely similar to the first few chapters in wusyaname before he goes on that trip (if I remember right)

Have a great day/night :D

omg ARTIST AAAAAA im obsessed I'd love to see your stuff if you ever feel comfortable sharing with me sometime but no pressure ofc! I know it's very personal! ive been trying to get more into art but im finding it hard to balance practicing art stuff and writing. I also have massive art insecurity bc I don't think I'm good enough (same with my writing) so I totally understand if u wanna keep it all to yourself but go you for being a talented babe <3

interactions on tumblr suck and I'm starting to be able to tell myself it's purely luck what performs well and what doesn't, so I'm finding it a lot easier to write things I actually want to write now rather than what I think my followers will like.

Also yeah in regard to my friend, we were online friends and we'd only known each other for around two years but god i adored her and i still do tbh. I think about her and our memories all of the time we were so so close so her decision to just randomly cut me off really hurt. I'd love to talk to her again but I know I have to respect her decision and I wish her the best!

It's been a good opportunity to get back into writing so at least something nice has come from something so sad. And I love this little space so much! I'm glad you like my theme! It was greenish at first n i was like nope this aint the one i am a pink girl through and through!

ALSO AAAA THE WAY IM BLUSHING ABT AITA YUUJI BEING LIKE WUSYANAME YUUJI UR SO RIGHT 😩 definitely not intentional but god maybe i missed him more than i thought! I'm so excited to be reposting it though it's going to be like living through the magic of it all again and hearing what everyone thinks and stuff! I haven't read it in so long so I feel like I'm right there with you all hehehe

anyway thank you for supporting me always ur literally the best i adore u pls take care of urself mwah mwah mwah