#.... but yeah... yeah it would end the same way

[starkeyvhs]

unhook

PAIRING: nerd!rafe cameron x nerd!fem!reader

SUMMARY: it’s rafe’s first sleepover with his first girlfriend – who is equally shy as him – but she needs help with unhooking her bra.

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

WARNINGS: shy rafe & reader; she/her pronouns used for reader; slightly suggestive (?) but it’s soft and fluffy 🫶

EDITH SPEAKS: we don’t just have nerd rafe now, we now have nerd reader too 🥰 I loveddddd writing the two of them, just a couple of soft and shy teenagers who like each other so much but are just so anxious 🥹 I have a cool idea on the background lore of this pairing and hopefully I’ll be able to write their full fic one day 🫶 anyways! if you enjoy reading, please reblog and share any feedback you may have 💞💞 also, my inbox is open to discuss all kinds of thoughts && hcs!!! xx

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Rafe Cameron was an expert at a lot of things: physics, maths, programming, robotics, chemistry, but there was one thing no book could ever teach him. 

And it was how to act around girls. 

Throughout his life, he thought keeping a safe distance from girls was best for him; relationships and everything else would come to him when the time is right. 

But he definitely didn’t think that time would come this soon – in high school. 

He was best known for his concentration, and how he could sit still and study for hours on end, not giving up until he was done learning what he wanted to. But this one girl, she was becoming a distraction. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. It was as if he could see her name hidden between the words of the book he was reading, tucked safely as a sweet memory of this new person who had just waltzed into his life. 

And somehow, the one thing that made all of this sweeter was that the girl – you – was also just like him. Just as inexperienced, just as nervous, and, he didn’t realise it, but also just as adorable as him. 

It was hard for Rafe to get his mind off someone who had so many common interests as him. You loved science and technology just as much as he did, and you both were somehow just always on the same wavelength with almost everything you talked about. 

Now, fast forwarding past the awkward talking stage (well, what’s to say it sometimes still isn’t awkward), Rafe finally bagged you, yes, that’s right, Rafe Cameron got a girlfriend. 

And a damn intelligent one at that. 

So, after everything, he has you invited over to his place for your first ever sleepover. The nerves are even more than usual, but he’s trying his best to make this work, just for the two of you. 

Starting from when you arrive till the dinner with his family, everything is super smooth. You both talk a bit, and Rafe can feel the nervousness between you two is beginning to die, to create something that’s more comforting and warm instead. 

But, all the effort he puts to make everything light hearted comes crashing down when he realises nighttime is nearing closer and closer. Meaning, the time to share a bed is getting closer. He makes the offer of his own clothes for your nightwear, which he’s super happy you accept. 

He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, his fingers fiddling nervously with the hem of his own shirt as he waits for you to finish changing and freshening up in the washroom. He can feel his mind go absolute berserk, an infinite number of thoughts looping themselves in his head and playing like a broken record. He’s attempting to get his mind off these thoughts, oh he is trying so hard, but he just can’t.

Rafe nervously looks up at the clock hanging on his wall and realises a little too much time has passed since you went to the washroom. It concerns him a tiny fraction, but he attempts to relax that thought by telling himself you must genuinely take time in the washroom to freshen up. 

But then he hears your voice calling out your name – oh how he loves the way his name sounds so sweet on your lips, but more on that later – and it seems as if you’re a little uneasy. 

“Yeah?” He asks, and his voice automatically takes that softness that somehow only comes up when he’s talking to you. He gets up from his bed and makes his way to the closed washroom door, gently pressing an ear to it. “Everything alright?”

A long moment of silence passes and Rafe doesn’t hear anything from across the door, which almost tempts him to call out to you again, but your voice finally crosses the wood. 

“I uh… I need help,” Your voice is already muffled due to the hardwood barrier between you two, but the obvious timidness in your tone makes it even more difficult for Rafe to catch your words. 

“Yeah yeah, what is it, sweets?” He says softly, the nickname rolling off almost effortlessly. Whoa, where did that confidence come from? Again, a topic reserved for a much later conversation. 

Another long moment of silence passes, and Rafe can now sense the anxiousness through the door, understanding that whatever it is, it’s making you feel more shy than usual. 

“My, my bra hook’s stuck… I need help with it,” Somehow, your voice has gotten even quieter. 

Now it’s Rafe’s turn to get quiet. 

It takes time for your words, and their implication, to settle in him. His limbs feel permanently tethered to the ground below him by a strong force, and that nothing can make him budge. But he soon realises that force is entirely superficial and it’s his own nerves keeping him fixed. 

Fighting the strong nerves he musters the courage to speak up again. “You, you need my help?” He asks. 

“Yes please,” comes your reply and he hears a heavy exhale escaping you along with your words, as if you’re letting go of the heavy weight of having to tell him what your current situation is. 

But god, Rafe doesn’t have a single clue how he’s going to react on what’s bound to happen next. 

He hears you unlock the door from inside, and he wraps his fingers around the doorknob, slowly twisting it to open the door. 

You’re standing in the center of the washroom, your back towards the door. He can see you’ve changed into his old shorts he gave you, but the t-shirt is sitting on the counter and you’re standing in just your bra. When you hear the door creak open, you turn to look over your shoulder and meet Rafe’s eyes. 

The moment you see him, you shy your gaze away from him. “Uh, it’s stuck real bad…” you mumble quietly. 

“Oh uh, I’ll… I’ll have a look,” Rafe mutters, moving closer to you so there’s barely any space between you two. He can feel the warmth of your back against his chest and it seems so inviting and soft. 

His heart begins to thump loud in his chest, and the deep curtain of silence that envelopes you two makes it even more loud to his ears. 

Rafe swallows the lump in his throat and lifts his hand up. He brings his fingers close to your back so that the fingertips are almost hovering over the inviting skin. 

Do it, Rafe, do it. You’re here to help her, that’s it.

Subconsciously nodding to himself, Rafe lets his fingertips gently press over your back and oh my god your skin is so damn soft. The situation is making heat rush to his face, and he just knows his cheeks are tinted with a champagne pink which is very hard to miss.

He can hear the hitch in your breath the moment his fingers touch your skin, as if the small contact is spreading an electric current throughout your body. Rafe lets his fingers linger over the bra hook, and he brings his other hand up too, attempting to sort the stuck hook out. 

“It’s a little stuck…” he murmurs under his breath as he has his way with the hook, but also makes sure none of his movements are too harsh that it hurts you in any way. 

“That bad?” You ask meekly, glancing at Rafe over your shoulder. He catches the look of sheepishness on your face, knowing how awkward you might be feeling in this situation. 

“I just need a minute, yeah?” He tells you softly, and allows himself to be a little bold, letting his hand drift over your shoulder and squeeze it softly. As much as his heart is beating fast in his chest and his fingers are itching to feel the expanse of your soft flesh, he also knows he should be a little confident because that’ll help you feel a little more comfortable. 

His actions do the expected, your tense shoulders relax a bit and you nod to let him continue. Rafe brings his hands back to the hook and lets out a deep breath. Okay, lets just look at this carefully. He takes a moment to inspect exactly how the hook is stuck, and then, carefully, he lets his fingers work through the stuck hook. 

It takes a long moment, both him and you standing in the quiet space of the bathroom with bated breaths, but finally, Rafe pops open the hook. That is the moment when your body gets fully relaxed, and he understands how relieving it must be for you to not have a tight constraint around your chest anymore. 

He can’t convince himself to bring his hands back down to his sides, his palms now fully resting on your back above your shoulder blades. You stand there, keeping a hand over the bra to keep yourself covered. 

“Are you feeling better?” He asks softly, feeling a little more bold as his fingertips begin to trail over your back, tracing over the length of your spine till your tailbone and coming back up right at the nape of your neck with a touch so slow and gentle. 

“Yeah…” you murmur, “thank you so much, Rafe,” 

Rafe can’t help the small smile that pulls his lips at your words. He leans down to press a soft kiss to your shoulder, letting his lips linger against your skin for a moment. “You’re welcome,” he mumbles softly into your skin, before pulling back. 

He clears his throat and reluctantly gets his hands off you, taking a step back towards the door. “I’ll uh, I’ll let you change yeah?” He says softly and watches you nod, but this time you don’t turn to look at him. He makes his way out of the washroom and steps out, closing the door behind him and resting his head back against the hardwood. 

He closes his eyes, letting out soft puffs of air through his exhales as his mind plays back the last few moments: his fingers on your skin, soaking up its velvety feel. 

He doesn’t know where he got the wave of confidence from which allowed him to touch you that beautifully, but somewhere, he’s glad he got it, because now, he absolutely can’t even think of anything else besides you, your supple skin, and how he might ultimately get to feel more than just your back under his hands. 

Well, this only makes him ecstatic about the impending sleepover. 

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

taglist: @oxpogues4lifexo / @inthelibrarybtw / @mccaffreyswifey / @chenslucy / @totalswag / @wearemadeofstardust0 / @percysley / @superswaggycooch / @kaileashiftz / @weirdowithnobeardo / @chimchimjiminie16 / @ursovaine / @mariamadison6-blog / @snowtargaryen / @htlkira / @hrtshapedblg / @cherrys-muses / @mattyskies

specific tags for this fic: @maybejj / @appleciderlove / @starkeyszn

tagging a few moots: @runningfrom2am / @ilyrafe / @zyafics / @nemesyaaa / @ladyinbl00d / @jjsbank444 / @b1mb0slvt / @maddsxfall / @congratsloserr

[softsunnyy]

let's take some time

Jack asks you to take a break when the relationship starts to go in the wrong direction. And you suffer, but at least you believe you're both experiencing the same thing… until you see videos of a party at a bar and start to believe it was always one-sided.

4,3k words.

angst, angst, angst, but happy ending. Reader is kinda the problem here tbh, but at the end of the day they're just two fools who don't know how to handle their feelings.

as always, poorly written.

when the words left his mouth, you exhaled, as if he'd punched you in the stomach, though it didn't really take you by surprise. Jack and you had been having problems for the past couple of weeks, with arguments that left the air tense and made you cry in your moments alone. The relationship seemed to be slipping through your fingers, and you didn't know how to get it back. How to get him back.

and you let the days go by, trying to maintain a positive attitude and not look for trouble, but everything seemed completely useless in the face of chaos, since any comment could turn against you, and your boyfriend had made that very clear. Jack was becoming more and more distant, distracted, and a pain in your chest tried to warn you of this, tried to make you feel uncomfortable or insecure, but you wanted to ignore it and believe in the love you have for him, and that's how you find yourself facing this situation.

“i think we should take a break. I don't think this is doing us any good,” he tells you, looking down, too hurt to meet your eyes, missing the way you blink rapidly, trying to push away the tears that are starting to form, while your throat aches and your hands clench into fists on your thighs, making your knuckles turn white.

you opened your mouth a couple of times, trying to start a sentence, but no sound came out, your mind clouded. The silence stretched for a couple of seconds, until he finally looked at you. His red, irritated eyes making you think for a moment that this might be hurting him too, and then you dared, you asked him the only question you could think of.

“are you sure of this?” “do you want this?” you wanted to ask him too, but you couldn't; you didn't know what to say, what to do. You didn't know if the right thing to do was to fight for his love or let him go. You're not even sure he feels the same way you do, even though you're looking into his eyes, like you've done a thousand times.

and he hesitates, he stops for a moment, and then in a very quiet, raspy voice he says, “yeah… i think it’s for the best.” And then the decision was made, because you would never do anything to make him uncomfortable, and if he wanted to take some time, you would give it to him, even if it hurt you deeply.

so he removes most of his things from your apartment—like some hoodies, his underwear, his shampoo, his toothbrush, and much of his essence—while you look at him with complete sadness, feeling like he’s also taking a part of your soul.

and he talks to you, tells you he’ll bring your things from his house, that you won’t have to worry about going there, but you don’t pay much attention, because you feel your body cramping, a constant, stabbing pain in your chest, and an emptiness in your stomach that makes you want to throw up your entire lunch.

when he leaves, you can't even cry, not right away, not even when he said goodbye at the door, giving you one last kiss as if it were a final goodbye, as if there were no way back. Instead, you can only stare at the wall, sitting on your couch, your head completely lost, your body too heavy.

it's like something has been ripped from inside you, as if something is missing and your heart wants to escape from your chest to find it. But physically, you remain there, sitting on that couch you chose together, unable to blink, unable to eat.

and when the days begin to pass, it's slow, everything moves too slowly. The house feels cold, the sky is always gray, the food is less appetizing, and your routine becomes more and more tedious. Your friends try to make you laugh, convince you to go out, to try to have fun, but you get bored quickly, you just wanna go back to your room and lie on your bed in the fetal position, crying yourself to sleep while you think about how he must be feeling.

you try to think it's mutual, that maybe he feels bad too and will soon regret this, but hours, days pass and you don't get a single text from him, a single call from his brothers, a single comment from his friends. And when you see them on the street, they give you a sad smile, as if you had broken up, as if there's no other option, and you can't return the gesture, so you just look at the ground and keep walking.

you wanna avoid him, forget everything related to him, but his face is all over the city, and you see him, on the way to college, on the way to work, on commercials, news, even food boxes, as if life were playing a trick on you, forcing you to see his huge smile all the time, while he enjoys doing what he loves, probably not caring about you as much as you do about him.

and you wanna leave, you wanna visit your family, go away for a month if necessary, but you wanna disappear from the city. So you wait, you do your best to finish your classes, to wait until you can request time off from work, and then you take them with you as far away as you can, trying not to cry, not to pick up your phone, not to watch television.

and the first two days worked; you're laughing, watching the stupid things the people you love do just to see you smile; and life feels fresher, your shoulders don't hurt as much, the puffiness under your eyes is going down... until that saturday night comes, when everyone has gone to sleep and you decide to turn on your phone. Your finger slides across the screen, traveling between apps, answering messages, until you open instagram and see that one of your friends posted a close friends story. And something inside you told you not to look at it, to close everything and go to sleep, but you dared anyway. Then you saw a video. It was a party, at a bar you recognized perfectly. And there's music playing in the background, so you don't hear much, but you recognize Trevor, laughing too loudly while elbowing someone. The camera pans a little, and then you see him.

Jack.

wearing a white shirt, with the top three buttons undone, sweat pouring from his skin, and a huge grin on his face. You can tell from his eyes that he's drunk, and from the way they laugh, you know he's really having fun.

you don't know when you stopped breathing, but you realized it by the sharp pain in your chest. Your hand shook, and the image was frozen, still in the calm, happy expression of the one who's supposedly still your boyfriend. And now you wanna throw up, you want to stop watching, but your eyes see the time, and you realize the video was uploaded a couple of minutes ago.

he's partying. That's what you thought, over and over again.

and you couldn't stop yourself. You watched every video, every photo, every update from the friends you had in common, seeing the whole group partying, posting captions like "he's backk," "mission take the dog out: done," while you felt the annoyance taking over.

you spent weeks crying, not knowing how to move forward, clinging to the things he left behind in your home, like a false promise that he'd come back, that this wasn't over. You spent nights remembering that last kiss, thinking about the thousands of things you wish you'd done differently. God, you even had to leave home, taking your family and going to the furthest place your savings would allow to get him out of your head.

and he's celebrating.

your throat closes, and you try to forget him, to go to sleep as if nothing had happened, but nightmares attack you, and you spend the night tossing and turning on your mattress, with different images of Jack forgetting you, changing you, leaving forever while you rot in that rented house.

now, what you don't know is Jack's perspective, because you don't talk, because you're trying to keep the no-contact agreement, so you miss out on the hell he's been living. He's been like a zombie for weeks, and arguing with everyone, friends, brothers, even his parents. Crying every night as he thinks about the things he would have done differently; remembering the stupid things he said to you in every argument, and replaying the images of how your light faded because of him, like he's a poison destined to kill you from the inside out. 

rejecting invitations, messages, calls. Getting up only to go play hockey, then going back home and sinking deeper into his misery, while he stares at the hoodie he never returned to you, hoping you won't notice, or that you won't say anything about it. It was his favorite, because it used to be your favorite. And it still smells of you, of your perfume that he bought you so many times before it ran out. Of your perfume that he bought again almost by instinct, and that now rests on his sink. Perfume he used to spray on the pillow, so he could sleep imagining you were still there.

nights convincing himself he made the best decision, because he couldn't bear to see you so sad because of him, while he breaks a little more with each passing day, feeling like all the fun and light in his life disappeared along with you, as if you owned his soul.

and his friends worry. Can you blame them? Jack used to be a party animal; fun, always there when you wanted to have fun, the best guest at any party, and that didn't stop when you started dating, but it has stopped now that you're not together, and they can firmly say they've never seen him so... lost. So out of his mind.

and they don't know what to do. They don't tell him about the times they've seen you, the things they've heard, they just try to get him to come out, but nothing works, until one day they all arrive together, opening the door to his house, turning on every light, settling in like they´re allowed. And Trevor and Alex drag him out of his bed, pulling at his feet as he tries to kick them, his voice hoarse from crying, but feeling so weak that fighting was useless.

together, they choose clothes, a cologne (your perfume, by accident), and force him to brush his teeth before leaving, leaving him with no other choice.

unfortunately, they take him to that bar, where you two went thousands of times to see bands play, to relax, to forget everything. And now each of those memories has come flooding back, making him feel dizzy, making his stomach turn, and unconsciously trying to walk back to the exit, only to be stopped by his friends. So he ends up drinking again and again, forgetting each drink, feeling lighter and dizzier.

he laughs at stupid things, and Trevor´s the best to keep him laughing. He sees phones near him, recording, taking photos, but he feels like he's floating, completely lost, sweaty, and forgetting for a moment everything that's happened in the last few weeks, as if it never happened.

and the hours pass, he keeps drinking, keeps having fun, and gets closer and closer to everything going dark. Then that song comes on, the one that made you laugh, the one you mocked so many times, claiming that '80s artists would be embarrassed, but you still danced with excitement, as if youth were eternal, as if euphoria were the only thing running through your veins, making him feel full of energy, even if it was the last song, at 2, 3, 5 in the morning. And then he begins to discreetly distance himself from his group, taking advantage of the alcohol to make them lose sight of him until he leaves the bar, holding onto the wall with difficulty, until he gets a little farther away from the music, taking out his phone and quickly dialing the number he couldn't forget even if he were almost passed out from drunkenness.

your phone vibrated, once, twice, three times, until you poked your head out from under the covers, your nose stuffed, your eyes swollen, and your throat destroyed, picking up your phone in irritation and answering it without first looking at who was calling.

“hello?” you asked, your voice raspy and making you wince. In the background, you could hear a bit of music, voices, and you frowned, confused, about to look at who was calling you.

“that song is playing.” You recognized his voice immediately, though the words came out too relaxed, almost incomprehensible. You sat up in your bed immediately, suddenly on alert.

“Jack?” you asked, though you didn't need confirmation. Still, he hummed, affirming it.

“that song is playing, the one that says…” and he began to sing, very poorly, slurring his words, getting the lyrics wrong too often. You were perplexed, not knowing how to interrupt him. “You hate that song,” he said when he finished.

“Jack, why are you calling me?” you asked, feeling the ache in your heart. One of your hands played with your blankets, trying to maintain your composure, even though hearing his voice broke you even more.

“i needed to tell you… because you’re not here,” he said, as if it were the most normal thing in the universe. As if he wasn’t calling his girlfriend, with whom he took some time, at 5 in the morning.

“yeah, well, i think we both know why,” you replied, harsher than you intended. And for a moment he remembers, remembers everything, so he falls silent, trying to think of a response. Suddenly more sober than he'd been all night.

“shit, i'm sorry, i don't know what i was thinking,” he said, completely remorseful, closing his eyes as he ran a hand over his face in frustration.

“it´s fine, now, since you remembered, go on having fun now that you're a free man.” And you hung up, knowing your voice had cracked on the last words; letting him go, when it was what you feared most. You began to sob, unable to stop yourself, throwing your phone to the other end of the bed, curling into a ball as your body shook violently, as if you'd ripped off the band-aid, and with it, something in your heart.

Jack, for his part, remained silent for a few seconds, the phone still pressed to his ear, but not hearing anything. And he tried to think, even in his state. He tried to reason, to guess what you were referring to, and then he remembered the photos, the videos. He thought about how everything must have looked, how you must have felt, and he wanted to throw up, feeling guilty, dirty, even though he hadn't done anything to anyone, but knowing that his actions had caused you some kind of harm.

and that night, he tried to go to your house, to look for you, to apologize in person, but you didn't open the door, so he ended up falling asleep outside your door, until one of your neighbors woke him up in the morning; a kind woman who always looked at you two with nostalgia, but now looked at him with pity. She told him you had gone on a trip, and told him when you would be back.

so he waited, day and night, trying to look presentable, but failing every night when he looked you up on social media again, or when he opened his gallery again and found all the photos, the videos.

he found himself replaying that nearly two-minute video of you over and over again; of you putting bows in his hair while you shared one of your precious bits of gossip, not realizing he was recording you until you looked down, blushing, laughing, and accusing him of having evidence against you, as if you were committing the biggest crime.

and he would unconsciously smile, seeing your big smile, your displays of affection, your little things that make you so special, and then he would fall back into that spiral of anguish, of guilt, knowing he had ruined everything by asking for that time; letting you go, as if he were giving up on the relationship.

when he felt like this, so sad, so lost, he always turned to you, to your arms, to your love, because you´re his light, his sun, the person who brought him back down to earth and reminded him that it's okay to make mistakes, to doubt, to want to do things differently, but that he shouldn't let himself be consumed by the "what ifs"; using his doubts as motivation to make positive changes, to stop falling and start climbing, even if it was at a slow pace. You had always been there to hold him, to take his hand and show him that he wasn't alone. But this time... this time you couldn't help him, because you both let go of each other's hands. And Jack doesn't know what to do.

for your part, your vacation was ruined, with nightmares every day, but trying to put on an act in front of your family; using all your energy to look fine in front of them, and being completely destroyed when everyone went to sleep. So exhausted that afterward it was almost impossible to move, every muscle feeling tense, hurting like shit.

and you're afraid to go back, to face reality, but the date is getting closer and you know it's time, so you pack your things, sighing heavily and returning to your apartment, which you know will be cold, lifeless, with his hoodies folded on your bed, as if waiting for you, without his scent, without his warmth.

the surprise comes when you arrive and a figure is waiting for you in front of your door, hands in the pockets of his jacket, looking down, and wearing a cap over his hair, which is longer than the last time. He seems to sense your footsteps, so he raises his head and meets your eyes, which are wide open.

“Jack…” you whispered, in disbelief, walking slower and slower, as if he might vanish when you finish approaching. And he waited for you, not coming closer, afraid that you might run away from him after all. “What are you doing here?” he could hear how tired you were in your voice, even though your eyes still had a bit of their usual sparkle.

“i think we need to figure some things out,” he replied, seeing you frown, confused. Still, you let him in. And he moves with uncertainty as if it were his first time there.

“sit, i just wanna grab a bottle of water,” you instructed, leaving your suitcase by the entrance and starting to walk toward the kitchen. “Do you want anything?” you asked, trying to sound normal, even though your heart was pounding, about to burst out of your chest.

“no, thanks,” he replied, distracted, looking around, noticing that you hadn’t taken down the pictures of the two of you, and paying special attention to one of his favorite photos; one from when you were 15 and you went to see one of his games for the first time. He still remembers how all his friends spent weeks teasing him about how nervous he was, but it was all worth it when you kissed his cheek, congratulating him on his goal. God, his brain had stopped working at that moment.

when you returned to the living room with your water bottle in hand, you found him looking at the photos, and something inside you ached too much, so you decided to speak as you went to sit down, far enough away from him to contain your urge to jump up and hug him.

“what do you wanna talk about?” your voice pulled him from his thoughts, and, slightly blushing, he went to sit down, all too aware of the distance between your bodies.

“i made a mistake,” he said bluntly, impatiently, watching your eyebrows rise, and missing the way your heart skipped a beat, as if he had just said the magic words.

“what do you mean?” you asked, in a low, weak tone, as you opened your bottle so you could take a sip; your throat suddenly dry.

“i thought i was doing the right thing by letting you go,” he cleared his throat, but still didn’t stop looking into your eyes. “But losing you has been really hard, and i hate it.”

“it didn’t seem like it,” you commented, with some venom in your voice, remembering that party where you saw him alive, in his element. “I saw you laughing, celebrating, and our friends saying they were ‘bringing you back,’ as if our relationship had completely turned you off.”

“it wasn’t like that,” he interrupted, frowning, almost offended. “They were, but because i was..." he paused for a moment, trying to find the words "i stopped talking to them, i cried every day, i missed you too much. And they came that night, all together, picked me up, and took me with them.”

“to that bar.”

“to that bar,” he affirmed. “They had no idea, and i wasn't gonna ruin their night, so i decided my best option was to drink and drink until i could let loose and enjoy myself for at least a couple of hours,” he explained, but he still saw some doubt in your eyes. “I know that when you met me, i liked to have fun, maybe too much, but i didn't go to that bar looking for trouble, or an adventure, or whatever you think happened,” he said, trying to keep his voice soft, so as not to turn this into an argument. “God, i even called you. I got away from them and called you when that song came on.”

“it's a terrible song,” you commented, still weak, and after being silent for a few seconds, processing his words, taking another sip of water. And you saw him smile a little, relaxing his shoulders.

“it is, but i needed you to hear it,” he sighed. “For a moment i forgot everything that had happened, and i thought it would be the same as always, that you would answer me, that you would laugh…” he tried to get a little closer, regretting it when he saw you tense up. “But that didn’t happen, and when i listened to you, when i understood that you were hurt and believing something that wasn’t that way… i came here.”

“you what?” you choked on the water, looking at him with a frown, but surprised. “It was around 5 in the morning, Jack, something could have happened to you.”

“i know, but i stayed here, and in the morning mrs. Winnicott told me you had gone with your family, and that you would be back today,” he explained.

“so you just came to my apartment to try to win me back,” you said, though there was no venom behind your words and he just shrugged.

“did it work?” he asked, hopeful.

you were silent for a couple of seconds, considering everything. You stopped looking at him, and instead looked at your hands. He waited patiently, feeling his heart pounding like never before, completely terrified at the thought of losing you.

“there are things we need to work on, Jack, you know that, right?” you asked, looking at him again, seeing him nod. “We can't go back to the way we were, because i don't think i can stand more days of just arguing with you. Not again,” you continued, and he listened, really listened. “I want my boyfriend back, but i need you to promise me that we're gonna try, really try.”

“we'll make it work, i promise,” he replied without hesitation, reaching out to take your hand. This time you didn't stop him.

and feeling his warmth broke you, so you threw yourself into his arms, holding him as tightly as you'd ever had before, listening to him begin to sob, his face buried in your neck, his hands clinging to you, as if you could disappear at any moment.

there are still so many things left to say, so many boundaries to set, but for now you just enjoy the feel of his body against yours, like that 16-year-old Jack, who curled up on you when he felt he was failing, or that 17-year-old Jack who threw himself at you when he knew his dream was about to come true and he could take you with him.

you missed him, you missed him so much that you don't wanna let go, you can't, and you hold onto him with the same intensity, your tears running down your cheeks, but with a smile so huge it lit up his world once again.

it wasn't perfect. And you're young, you're gonna make mistakes, you're gonna cross boundaries, you're gonna get to know each other a little better. But right now, there's only one thing you're both clear about: you don't want to separate again. Not when you've both already found your home in each other's arms.

you're the end game; you just have to learn to live with whatever that means and comes with.

but you'd do anything, just for him.

[buckyseternaldoll]

Snowy Alps: Alpine.

Summary: Bucky brings home a stray cat. Alpine brings home a new routine.

Disclaimer: fluff, domestic bucky, stray cat adoption, alpine supremacy, soft cuddles, pet store chaos, bed-sharing (with cat), light teasing

The door slid open with a gentle swoosh, and Bucky stepped into your shared Watchtower unit, a takeout bag in one hand, your steaming cup of coffee in the other, and—most notably—white cat fur clinging to the black of his jacket like he’d wrestled a snowstorm on the way home.

“Baby?” he called out, voice lighter than usual.

You peeked from the couch where you’d been curled up with a blanket and a book. “Hey, welcome back.” Then your eyes narrowed, amused. “You’re covered in something… fuzzy.”

He blinked, then glanced down. A small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. About that.”

He set the food down and shrugged off his jacket, revealing even more fur speckled along the sleeves of his black long-sleeve shirt. He didn’t even bother brushing it off. Instead, he practically beamed as he sat beside you, still riding the high of his afternoon discovery.

“There’s this cat,” he began, already breathless with excitement. “At the café downstairs. All white. Like—not cream or off-white. White-white. Snow.”

You tilted your head, already smiling. “And she attacked you?”

“No,” he said, eyes softening as he looked at you. “She curled up on my lap while I was waiting for your pastries. Like she just decided I was furniture. Didn’t flinch when I pet her. She even rolled over so I could scratch her tummy.”

“She showed you her belly?” you laughed, heart fluttering at how gentle he sounded. “That’s trust. Instant soul bond.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” His knee bounced slightly. He was trying to contain himself, like he was unsure if this would sound silly—but you already knew the answer.

“So… I wanna bring her home,” he said, glancing at you, hopeful but cautious. “If you’re okay with that. I already checked—she’s a girl. I’d name her Alpine. Like the snowcaps in the Alps. Pure white. Peaceful. It just… felt right. I think she reminds me of that part of me I never got to have.”

That last part made your chest ache a little—softly, sweetly. You leaned forward, cupping his jaw and brushing your thumb over his stubbled cheek.

“I love it,” you said. “And I love her already. Let’s go get Alpine.”

—

Later that evening, you were both back at the café. The little white cat was still perched in her usual spot by the patio, paws tucked under her like a loaf of bread.

Bucky crouched down and softly called, “Hey, Alpine…”

Her ears twitched. She lifted her head, saw him—and without hesitation, padded straight over. She hopped onto his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world, head bumping against his chest before she curled against him.

“Yup,” you murmured, watching him hold her like she was the most delicate thing in the world. “You’re hers now.”

He scooped her up carefully, and she made no fuss—just settled in with a quiet purr, trusting and content.

—

The evening ended with a smooth vet visit—Alpine was healthy, just a little underweight—and a very enthusiastic trip to the nearby pet store that felt, quite honestly, more like preparing for a royal homecoming than a casual adoption.

The moment you stepped inside, Bucky froze like a soldier facing an unexpected new mission.

“This is… a lot,” he muttered, surveying the rows of colorful packaging and towers of cat furniture like they were tactical assets on a battlefield. You watched his eyes dart from brand names to ingredient lists with the same intense focus he used when analyzing mission files.

He lingered in the litter box aisle for an embarrassingly long time, crouched in front of three nearly identical models with his brow furrowed. One had a carbon filter, another promised “maximum odor control,” and the third came in sleek matte black.

“This one looks like it belongs in Stark’s bathroom,” he grumbled.

“Then she’ll probably hate it,” you replied, laughing as you nudged him. “Just pick one that doesn’t look like a spaceship.”

“She deserves something classy,” he insisted, eventually settling on a simple beige model with a privacy hood and golden trim. “She’s got dignity.”

The indecision didn’t stop there. In the food aisle, he hovered like a man trying to choose the perfect wine for a Michelin-starred dinner. He held up one bag of premium organic kibble like it held the answer to the universe.

“This says wild-caught salmon,” he mumbled, reading the back. “But this one has freeze-dried duck. Which one’s better? Which one screams ‘I love you and I respect your primal instincts’?”

“She’s a five-pound cat, Buck.”

“She’s my five-pound cat,” he said stubbornly. “I can’t give her anything boring. What if she hates me?”

Then, with sudden intensity, he looked at you and said, completely serious: “Should I just buy raw steak? Like… once a week? A little Friday night ritual? We could call it Alpine’s Ribeye Hour.”

You burst out laughing. “No, babe. No ribeye hour. She doesn’t need red meat marbled to perfection.”

A staff member nearby chuckled and gently stepped in. “If she’s not on a raw diet, that much red meat might upset her stomach. Fancy kibble and wet food will do fine. Maybe throw in a few freeze-dried treats.”

Bucky nodded slowly, as if receiving sacred instructions.

“I just want her to feel safe,” he murmured, running a hand through his hair. “Like she’s somewhere soft and permanent.”

“She already does,” you reminded him softly.

Eventually, you both left the store with a small cart piled high: a tall cat tree (“She deserves the high ground,” Bucky declared), a pastel pink ceramic bowl set (“Matches her tiny murder princess energy”), a soft faux-fur bed, several mouse-shaped toys, a bag of treats shaped like little fish, and a feather wand Bucky couldn’t stop playing with while waiting in line.

“She’s gonna think we’re insane,” you said.

“She’s gonna think she won the lottery,” he replied.

—

By the time you were both back at the Watchtower—inside your cozy, shared space that passed for a home more than a mission base—Alpine was already out of her carrier and trotting forward like she’d been here before in another life.

Tail held high, she made her rounds with purpose. First the kitchen, where she sniffed the legs of the island and examined the corner near the fridge. Then the couch, where she clawed lightly at the throw blanket you’d folded earlier that morning, as if testing the texture for naps. She darted into the hallway, disappeared into the bathroom, and reappeared with what looked like a stray cotton swab in her mouth.

“She’s inspecting her kingdom,” you whispered.

“No—she’s checking for weak spots in our defenses,” Bucky replied seriously, crouching to retrieve the cotton swab from her mouth. “Classic flanking maneuver.”

Eventually, she made her way into the bedroom, pausing only once to look over her shoulder and chirp—a soft, curious sound that neither of you had expected to melt your hearts the way it did.

You followed her inside, and watched as she leapt effortlessly onto the bed. But not just anywhere. No. She walked with clear intent to Bucky’s side—his pillow still creased from that morning—and plopped down like she owned it.

“I…” Bucky blinked. “I think I’m the chosen one.”

“You are,” you smirked, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re covered in fur and she already slept on you once. You’re marked.”

As if to prove it, Alpine stretched and rolled sideways, exposing her belly to the ceiling as she purred and rubbed her face into Bucky’s pillow like she was stamping her signature all over it.

He stepped forward slowly, like if he moved too fast she might vanish. But when he sat on the edge of the mattress, Alpine stood, walked over, and—with the most casual entitlement—climbed halfway up his leg like a tiny mountain lion scaling familiar terrain.

“Did you see that?” he whispered, wide-eyed and trying very hard not to move. “She picked me again.”

You grinned, arms crossed. “Yeah. She’s definitely got good taste.”

Alpine nuzzled her cheek into the dark fabric of his pants before curling into a loaf at his feet, purring like a little motor. The kind of sound you could feel if you stood close enough—warm and steady.

Bucky’s voice dropped to something almost reverent. “She’s home.”

—

Dinner was easy that night. The two of you ate on the small dining table tucked against the window, city lights sparkling far below. You passed each other bites between conversation and quiet laughter, half of your attention stolen by the soft presence now occupying the middle of the table.

Alpine had curled up just to the left of Bucky’s plate, nose tucked under her tail, the tips of her ears twitching ever so slightly. Her soft, rhythmic purring filled the space like background music—comforting, cozy, like a fireplace crackling.

Bucky just stared at her for a long moment, chin resting on his palm, spoon suspended in his other hand.

“You good, Buck?” you asked gently.

He didn’t even look away from her. “Mmhmm,” he hummed, a dreamy smile spreading across his face. “I’m full already. Could listen to that purr all night.”

You snorted into your drink, setting it down with a smirk. “So that’s it, huh? I’ve lost my queen position to a white cat with jellybean toes?”

Bucky finally turned to you with the softest look—like he’d never been more sure of anything in his life—and said, “Nah. You’re the queen. She’s just… the royal advisor. Or a tiny fluffy tyrant.”

“She’s got you wrapped around her paw.”

“She does,” he admitted, completely unbothered. “And I’d do anything she asked.”

You couldn’t even pretend to be jealous. Watching him like this—gentle, light, his guard down so far it was practically gone—you felt the warmth of this little family settling into place around you.

And across the table, Alpine purred on. Content. Safe. Home.

—

Night fell quiet over the Watchtower, the kind of stillness only broken by the hum of distant aircraft traffic and the occasional creak of the unit’s HVAC system. In the soft light of your bedroom, all was warm and calm. Alpine was nowhere to be seen for now—last you saw, she’d been investigating the inside of Bucky’s tactical boot.

You were already under the covers, curled into Bucky’s chest, his vibranium arm stretched behind your pillow and his flesh hand lazily tracing patterns over your shoulder. Nothing heated, nothing rushed. Just the kind of closeness that spoke in silence—shared warmth, steady heartbeats, fingers laced under the sheets like they belonged there.

“I love this,” you mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.

“Mmhmm,” he hummed into your hair. “Me too.”

But then, after a beat, you felt him shift. Just slightly. Then again—shoulders squirming, fingers pausing on your back.

“Bucky,” you said, suspiciously. “Why are you moving?”

He hesitated… then whispered like a kid asking for dessert past bedtime, “Can I… go pet Alpine now?”

You pulled back just enough to look at him. “Are you serious?”

“I’ve been waiting all day to cuddle with her,” he said, completely sincere. “I thought maybe she’d sleep on my chest tonight or curl into my arm or something.”

You groaned and buried your face in his neck. “You traitor. I lose my spot to a rescue cat in less than twelve hours.”

But before either of you could move, there was a soft thump from the hallway—then the elegant click of tiny paws against the wooden floor. Alpine strutted into the room like she owned the lease.

“There she is,” Bucky whispered excitedly, already shifting up onto one elbow with a smile spreading across his face.

You watched, amused, as Alpine paused at the edge of the bed, assessed the situation like a military tactician… and then, with no hesitation whatsoever, padded to your side and flopped down against your stomach. Not between the two of you. Not on Bucky.

Just you.

Bucky blinked.

You stared.

Alpine let out one satisfied purr, stretched long across your middle like a sash, and closed her eyes. Her white fur glowed in the soft bedside lamp, her little pink nose twitching like she’d claimed her spot and would not be moved.

“…She picked you,” Bucky said, sounding personally wounded.

“Oh no,” you gasped, not hiding your grin. “Oh no, Sergeant Barnes, I believe you’ve been rejected.”

“I fed her salmon bits tonight,” he said, genuinely baffled. “I carried her around PetSmart for two hours like she was royalty. I said she was my girl!”

“She was your girl,” you teased. “But clearly, she has her eye on the throne now.”

He narrowed his eyes, flopping back onto the pillow with an exaggerated sigh. “Betrayal. In my own bed.”

You reached over with a smirk, gently shifting Alpine so she now lay in the middle between you both. She didn’t curl into a tight ball, like she had before—instead, she stretched out flat and long, paws extended forward, belly facing up proudly as if to say yes, I own you both now.

Her purring started almost instantly—loud and deep, vibrating against the mattress like a lullaby.

“Well,” Bucky murmured, giving her a fond scratch behind the ear, “if she’s in the middle, then at least I get joint custody.”

You smiled, snuggling closer, your arm brushing his over Alpine’s fluff. “Looks like the bed’s not just ours anymore.”

He leaned in, pressed a kiss to your temple, and whispered, “I don’t mind. As long as you’re both here.”

And under the soft hum of Alpine’s purring, the three of you slowly drifted off to sleep—safe, warm, and home.

[dulcet-aurora]

💌 you've got the hots for your best friend in lulu! invincible. 2021. ────── bff!mark x reader. cw: just mark being cunty 💔💔💔 save us all

"do you feel bonita, mark?" you tease, leaning on the wall beside the wooden changeroom door. you look up, mark's name scrawled on the whiteboard hanging on the front of the door. his penmanship is barely legible, trailing off into a happy face at the end.

"i feel very bonita," he laughs, a breathy sound that sounds exasperated and humored at the same time. "if it weren't—" you hear the rustling of fabric and then a cough of surprise, "— ninety-eight dollars— jesus, how is your wardrobe stocked with this brand— i would buy it."

you raise your eyebrows, "high praise, coming from you."

"what's that supposed to mean?" mark squawks, exaggeratingly offended.

"i haven't seen you wear something decent since my princess birthday party days," you say.

"that was like when you were like, six," mark says.

"hence my point."

despite there being a door between the two of you, you can sense he rolls his eyes. "okay, first off," he starts. "my prince eric costume was amazing. second, i do own a suit."

"have you worn it?" you raise an eyebrow.

he stammers a bit, "well, no, not recently, but i do pla—"

you wave your hand dismissively, rolling your eyes. you tip your hand back and rap your knuckles against the door. "just admit i'm right. and hurry up, i'm hungry."

"yeah, yeah, i'm coming," mark mumbles. you step back from the wall as the doorknob twists.

mark tucks one of his hands in his khakis (which he pulls off annoyingly well), as the other scratches the back of his neck and trails down to the collar of the dress shirt he's wearing. he bounces on the balls of his feet; once, curt, anxious, and smiles sheepishly. "so? how do i look?"

you blink. the navy fabric hugs his skin, wrapped around his toned abdomen and bringing out the dark brown of his eyes. his peachy skin looked like seafoam against the deep blue, khaki pants balancing out the whole color scheme. mark was a perfect equilibrium, and you'd never seen anything more handsome.

"um, wow," you mutter, a smile peeling its way onto your lips as your eyes trail down to his chest. it's like the shirt was saying, you've done good, soldier. have some pectorals. you reach up, fiddling with his collar. it wasn't messed up, you just wanted an excuse to be close to him. your fingers brushed against his shoulder, rubbing off imaginary lint.

mark chuckled softly, "is that a good 'um, wow' or a bad one?"

"a good one," you laugh, finally lifting your fingers off his shoulder. "i like it. goes well with your undertones."

"i have no idea what that means, but thank you." he says sheepishly.

you smile. you'd always thought mark was cute, in a 'boy next door' or 'disney channel best friend' kind of way. but as the two of you got older and mark grew into his growth spurts, you'd certainly... noticed. it wasn't weird, or a thing that needed to be pointed out but it was definitely there.

your fingers reach out and tug on the end of the short sleeves that draped awkwardly over his arm. "these are a bit baggy, though," you murmur, more to yourself than anyone. "looks kinda awkward."

mark bites the inside of his cheek, "mm, this better?" he makes a fist and flexes his arm, and his biceps swell with a grace that makes your eyes widen. your cheeks flush as his bicep fills out the empty space left in the sleeve, staring for a good few seconds before coughing lightly.

"yeah—" you cough into your hand, "yeah. yeah, um. yeah, that works."

duclet-aurora © 2025. do not plagiarize my writing. ✶ kindly ignore that this is based off of a real event with my situationship 😊💗

[claramelooo]

CHECKMATE (14/20)

I did not post it at midnight cuz I was decorating my wall, I'm the worst at it, but I think I'm making this right...

And I wrote the chapter after I saw the interview Kathryn Hahn gave to Jimmy Fallon. Omg, the woman is so funny!

I can't!!

This chapter let me sooo: 😭😩🫶🏻🥹🥺🥺

Enjoy!

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Warnings: +18, sex, smooth and angst

Pairing: Governor! Agatha Harkness x Fem Reader

Summary: you go on your first date with Agatha.

MUSIC RECOMMENDATION:

Opening

noun

1. It can be characterized as a new open for a move within the game.

The ceiling was dark wood, with exposed beams and marks of time. You could see where the paint was starting to peel, where nature was creeping in despite the varnish. 

Even here, in this silent room in the middle of nowhere, everything about her seemed flawless. Everything around her was like her: reserved, solid and effortlessly beautiful.

You were lying on her bed, wearing only the sweater that barely covered your bare legs breathing in the scent of the sheets—of her. Something spicy like sandalwood and woody like honeysuckle.

Dinner had ended a while ago, and the playful, easy mood had dissolved, giving way to silence and your insecurity. Would she send you away? Pretend nothing happened again?

But no.

She did none of that.

In fact, she had simply looked at you and said: "I need a shower."

She went upstairs, and now here you were.

In her bed. 

Turning your face into the pillow and breathing in the fabric like it could calm you.

It didn’t.

Your body still pulsed. Not from adrenaline, but from a strange, low, warm hunger. The kind that starts in your stomach and ends in places no one dares to name aloud.

Sex still clung to your skin like old sweat, but it wasn’t just that. It was her! Agatha. That damn woman who touched you like she was disarming a bomb and always left you in the middle of the minefield, totally alone.

Honestly, you didn’t know what to do now. You’d never made it past this stage.

The bathroom door opened slowly and you turned your head quickly and tried to look relaxed, as if you hadn’t just been caught lost in dirty thoughts about her body.

Agatha appeared in a thick robe, her hair pinned up, still damp in places like she’d taken a bath. She didn’t look directly at you right away, just walked past the bed in silence, went to the dresser, picked up a hairbrush.

Only then did she turn.

"Are you okay?" The question was direct, and it made you rethink your whole life.

"Yeah, I..." you thought, and thought, and nothing came to mind except, "I’m really tired."

She nodded, brushing her hair. She looked away, then looked again.

She wanted to say something, but it was clear the weight in the air was heavy for her too.

"You can sleep here if you want."

The phrase was tossed with the same calm as "I need a shower." As if it meant nothing. As if you weren’t clenching your thighs under her sweater, already wet again just from looking at the curve of her collarbone peeking out of the robe.

You wanted to ask what it meant, but you knew if you did, you'd ruin everything. Agatha was the kind of woman who offered a bed the same way someone offers an abyss: you jump if you want to. 

The choice is yours, the fall too.

You just nodded. 

"Okay." Your voice came out soft, almost like an obedient child.

She went back to brushing her hair, and silence settled in the room like a third presence—uncomfortable, intimate and loaded.

You shifted slightly in the bed, crossing your legs to relieve the hot pressure building between them. But the sheet slipped, revealing your bare thigh. By the time you noticed, the fabric was already on the floor.

You held your breath.

Agatha stopped too.

Her eyes landed on the space between the edge of the sweater and the beginning of your skin. She didn’t smile or look away. But she didn’t move closer either, just stood there, watching.

Slow and controlled, almost cruel.

"Are you cold?" The question came as a whisper, and you didn’t even know what to say.

"A little." You lied.

It was hot, too hot. It was her. 

Always her.

Agatha walked to the edge of the bed, calmly picked up the sheet, and placed it back over your legs, like someone tucking in a child.

The touch was light, but her fingers brushed your thigh a second longer than needed and she knew it.

You looked at her. Up close, her skin looked even softer. The scent of honeysuckle and sandalwood returned, now with something more intimate.

You couldn’t resist.

"Agatha..." 

"Huh?" She murmured, looking at you, but not quite focused.

"Are you going to keep doing this?" 

"Doing what?" 

"Leaving me like this." Your voice trembled, so, did your breath.

She came closer, sitting on the edge of the bed, the sheet now between you. Her hand rested on it, but didn’t touch you.

"Like what?" Still that venomous calm. But her eyes... they were different. 

You held your breath.

"Like it was just another night."

She smiled, just one corner of her mouth, and it seemed almost sad.

"I don’t know... this all feels so unexpected. I can’t..."

"Control it." You said, finishing her sentence with precision.

She froze. The smile died slowly on her lips, as if you’d touched a tender and deep nerve.

"Yeah," she quietly admitted, like she was confessing it to herself too. "Control it."

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable anymore, it was full, tense, but also... intimate. A space where neither of you quite knew what to do and still, you stayed.

You raised your hand, hesitant, and touched her face. Her skin was warm, maybe from the bath, or maybe something else. 

She didn’t pull away, just closed her eyes. And that simple gesture, of trust or surrender, completely disarmed you.

"I keep trying to understand what this is," you whispered, brushing your thumb along her cheek. "And at the same time... I just want to feel."

Agatha opened her eyes and there was something there you’d never seen before. Not during the debate, not at dinner, not even when she looked at you with desire.

It was fear, and want, and a deep—ancient exhaustion from pretending she needed nothing.

"You’re so young," she said, almost in lament. "And yet... you see me so clearly." 

"Maybe because of that."

She went quiet. Her face still close to yours. Your breaths touching again, searching like lost hands.

You slid slightly on the bed, offering space. She hesitated for a second, then lay down. This time there was no sheet between you. Just two bodies, under shared warmth.

She pulled you gently, like drawing in a good memory and you fit.

Her hand on your waist. Yours on her chest, feeling the rhythm of her heart.

"I’m so scared of liking this." She confessed, voice almost inaudible against you.

You shut your eyes, feeling a knot rise in your throat.

"I know. Me too." You whispered back, your faces almost touching.

She exhaled into your mouth. "God. What the hell are you doing to me?"

Your bodies rubbed together with longing, like you hadn’t had each other just hours before.

The first brush of lips was like lighting a fuse—slow, calculated, a flame growing between shared breaths. Agatha hesitated for a fraction of a second, like she was still fighting herself, before surrendering to the kiss.

Her lips were softer than you remembered, yielding under yours with a vulnerability she never allowed during the day. Her taste filled your mouth as your tongue ventured forward, timidly and hungrily.

You felt the exact moment she lost control.

A husky moan escaped her throat when your hands found her hips, pulling her fluidly on top of you. Agatha broke the kiss for a moment, her dark eyes dilated, heavy breath filling the space between you.

“Slow.” She ordered, though her voice wavered. More plea than command.

You obeyed, letting your hands glide down her thighs as the two of you settled into a perfect hold. Your legs entwined like ancient roots, your humid warmth meeting at a single, scorching pressure point.

Your first movement was almost accidental but the electric impact rattled her. Agatha gasped, her fingertips dug into your shoulders as you repeated the motion, this time with purpose.

“Like this?” You whispered, feeling her body tremble above you.

She didn’t answer in words. Instead, she captured your lips again in a kiss more hungry. Your tongues met in sync with your bodies, an erotic waltz with each movement prolonging the electric tension growing between you.

You felt the second she began to unravel—the slight tremors in her thighs, the weight of her breasts pressing down with each move, the muted moans slipping between kisses.

“I see…” you murmured against her lips, your hands finding hers and weaving your fingers together. “I see all of you.”

That confession broke Agatha entirely. Her body arched over yours in a perfect curve, her lips parting in a silent cry as wave after wave of pleasure shattered her. You held her safe through every tremor, every spasm, every intense piece of ecstasy.

When she collapsed onto you, exhausted, her eyelids fluttering as she let herself sink, you simply wrapped her in your arms, feeling her rapid heartbeat against your chest.

What followed wasn’t tense—it was peaceful, like a promise.

And when she finally opened her eyes to look at you, you knew: you were fucked.

Agatha rested her head on your chest. Your skin touched, warm. The smell—not perfume, but skin—so comforting, and suddenly… you didn’t want to leave.

“I never really loved him.” She said, breaking the reverie.

You frowned, the single thought surfacing. 

“Thanos?”

She nodded with eyes still closed, serene, relaxed.

“He was kind,” she said, nostalgic.  “Held the car door, flowers on birthdays… made coffee before you woke.”

You waited for the but. You knew it had to come.

“But he always made sure I knew I was the better half. That I should be grateful for having him.” She let out a quiet laugh, a self-conscious one. 

Her head was still on you.

“He hated when I talked about running. Said I’d humiliate myself, turn into a caricature. That people would laugh, dig up dirt.”

You swallowed, unsure what to say. You wanted to hold her, but also... to understand.

“For a while, I believed him,” she continued. “Thought he was just worried. Protecting me.”

She turned her face into your skin, silent for a long moment. You wondered if she’d cried, but when you looked... her eyes were dry.

She wasn't crying.

She was remembering.

And something inside you tightened—a quiet anger, a protective instinct—even though she was older, more powerful, colder.

Or maybe she wasn’t any of this, and now you could see her cracks.

“He wasn’t violent,” she said softly. “But... he had a way of making you feel so small I sometimes believed I was shrinking for real.”

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, meaning it, thinking of all she’d endured. Years of silence, of submission.

“I thought something was wrong with me. It was so… painful,” her tone was nostalgic. Agatha lifted her head, looking at you with ocean eyes and furrowed brow. “But it’s so good when I’m with you.”

She looked truly confused and you understood perfectly.

“I really am irresistible, babe. Not your fault.”

She laughed and it shattered something in the air. A crack in the current moment between memory and desire. Your heart surged at that laugh—not sarcastic, not polished—real. Something she felt now, not just defending from the past.

Agatha dropped her gaze, bit her lip. A teenage gesture, so out of character that it broke you.

“You don’t need to understand it all at once,” you whispered as softly as her, voice shaking with tenderness you could no longer hide. “Just… stay.”

And she stayed.

She lay down on you again, but now the touch was different. Less strained, more rooted. Her hand rested on your stomach, fingers tracing slow, imaginary lines—like learning the map your skin was.

And there, in that damp hush of wood and night and entwined breath, an inevitable idea formed.

She deserved to know the truth.

Thanos might have been murdered.

Agatha had believed those three years it was a quiet tragedy.

You looked at her, chest rising under your hand, her face serene, her fingers still drawing patterns across your skin.

She deserved to know.

Deserved to know that maybe the man she thought erased her had been erased first.

You knew it was confidential info. You didn’t even know why Natasha leaked it.

She deserved to know.

But how to tell her? How to break it to her without unraveling this fragile thread you’d woven fingertip-by-fingertip, breath-by-breath?

Her hand stilled on your stomach.

“You’re thinking too loud.” She murmured, eyes still closed.

You forced a smile.

“Sorry.”

Agatha lifted her head. She studied you, as if reading the silence between your words.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” She asked, looking at you. 

You could see the sparkle in those eyes, as if she was coming back to life little by little.

You opened your mouth.

But nothing came out.

Air passed your throat, but your tongue didn’t move. Neither jaw nor courage. Because you didn’t yet know who, or why. Didn’t know if you should say it at all, and worst of all: you weren’t sure what Agatha would become once she knew.

You closed your mouth slowly.

She lifted her head again, searching you. But this time, she didn’t ask again.

“It’s okay,” she finally said, as if deciding not to force someone teetering on a tightrope.

She lay back down, face up to the ceiling.

“When you’re ready.”

And she stayed like that.

The silence wasn’t heavy, it was just too full, like a breath that hasn’t quite released or a question you know you need to ask but aren’t sure you can live with the answer.

Agatha moved slowly, seeking comfort. Her body slid against yours again, more to the side this time, cozier. Her leg found yours and her arm came to rest across your abdomen naturally, like it belonged there.

You were still for a moment. Your heart racing, your stomach twisting with nerves. Her breath steadied, tickling your ear, and you stayed wide-eyed, refusing to sleep. You wanted to look at her, see her face, so serene and softened by sleep.

In the warm rustic bed, between sheets that still smelled of honeysuckle, sandalwood—and something of her you now recognized without name—you finally drifted off.

And you don’t know who fell asleep first. 

You just know that when sunlight streamed through the curtain, soft and honey-golden, your bodies were so intertwined you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

Her arm tightened around your waist. Your knee between her thighs.

Your cheek was so close to hers that your breath warmed the nape of her neck, and the scent of bare skin—no perfume, just skin—made you never want to leave.

The first movement was slight. One hip shifting. A touch by accident. Then another. Rubbing, sliding slowly, a soft sigh. You felt her skin tremble at the contact.

Then you opened your eyes and so did she.

Her irises were nearly gray in the sunlight. 

You realized neither of you wanted it to stop, maybe you didn’t even know how.

The kiss came like the sun. So warm and inevitable. Just mouths, tongues, the taste of sleep mixed with desire.

She pressed her body to yours, and you moaned against her lips, a whispered secret.

There was no yesterday anymore.

No more doubt.

Only now. 

And now was hot, wet and full.

You simply couldn’t hold back. Maybe it was the kiss, or the warmth between your thighs, or how her hip pressed so naturally against yours that it felt right.

Her hand rose along your waist, firm yet reverent and it nearly unraveled you. She touched you like she was starving, and terrified of breaking you. 

And you wanted her to break everything.

When she slid between your legs, you moaned into her mouth—low and urgent. She captured the sound with her lips, her teeth, her tongue. 

She moved.

Her first hip slide was slow, just feeling. Still, you arched into her, breathlessly hungry.

She smiled against your neck.

“Slow…” she murmured in that rough, half-awake voice. “I want it gentle.”

But you didn’t want gentle. You wanted to devour her, to trap her so that she could never escape from you again.

Your pussies rubbed together with such ease, such desire

Her hand slid between your bodies and touched you without asking. You were hot, dripping, bare, and she moaned, not surprised but desired, like she’d been holding it back.

She touched you with two fingers while her hip moved in rhythm.

You clutched the sheet. Then her shoulders. Then the life rising between you. Her touch was slow, but precise. She knew your body, as if she’d memorized every reaction.

“Look at me,” she said and you did. Her eyes were misty of sleep, pleasure and feeling. “I love it when you obey.” She said and you melted.

She was here. With you.

The orgasm hit you both in waves. You bit her shoulder to stifle your cry.

But she didn’t stop. She kept touching you until you collapsed, until your body gave in, until you couldn’t tell air from moan anymore.

She kissed you afterward. Tasting like victory and sweetness, like home.

And then, when your eyes were still half-open, your breathing erratic, your heart racing back to normal...

Agatha smiled against your lips. 

“Good morning.” She whispered without breath.

And she looked stunning—with clavicles glistening with sweat, her face framed by sun backlighting—she seemed angelic.

Fuck. You felt lost.

L.O.S.T

You blinked, grounding yourself.

“You’ve got stamina for a woman your age.” You teased, even though your chest felt heavy.

Agatha laughed in disbelief, tilting her head back.

“For your information, I was the biggest club hopper at Yale.”

She leaned back into the pillow, still laughing as her fingers traced lazy patterns on your bare stomach.

“Club hopper?” You raised an eyebrow, barely holding back a smile.

“Every weekend. Friday in New Haven, Saturday in Hartford. My friends and I danced until our knees gave out.”

“You?!”

“Yes, me,” she feigned indignance. “What’s so hard to believe about that?”

You turned on your side, your arm sliding onto her hip. “You seem so… elegant. So contained.”

“I am,” she nodded, leaning her face toward yours. “But before I became… this, ”she gestured vaguely to herself. “I was just another insufferable youth with existential crises and terrible taste in cheap wine.”

“That’s unbelievable!” You laughed freely.

“Believe it,” Agatha said with an annoying, beautiful confidence. “I held the debate team presidency and was the dance-floor assassin.”

“Assassin?” You teased against her lips, catching the scent of her again.

“I took it very seriously.” She squeezed your bare ass and chuckled.

“Prove yourself.”

“I doubt you can handle it.”

“Oh yeah?” You growled, straddling her as your bodies pressed together like you’d never parted.

She squeezed your waist.

“You don’t know what you’re asking, honey.”

“Prove it.”

She sighed, either tired or amused by your persistence.

“It’s in my yearbook. Last line of the profile.”

“You’re lying.”

“‘Poetry writing, club hopping, and art,’” she quoted. “‘Like I was fucking Virginia Woolf dancing reggaeton.’”

You laughed louder, leaning your forehead against her sweaty shoulder.

“That’s so specific.”

“I am very specific.” She sighed, dramatic.

You pulled back just enough to look at her face. “And what about poetry writing?”

“Okay, that was bullshit! Every poem had the word hollow at least three times.”

“Wait. You were a goth?”

“I was intense,” she answered, feigning offense. “And the hollow was… metaphorical.”

“Ah, right. How could I forget second year’s existential chasms?”

“And third. And fourth. And there's the grad school too…”

You both laughed, and your chest felt light—full of something warm growing each time she poked fun at her past.

It was rare to see Agatha like this: stripped of everything but herself.

You traced her sweaty clavicle with your finger, still beautiful, still here.

“Take me to dance, Governor.” You whispered to her skin, so low only she would hear it.

Agatha opened her eyes, surprised, still lazy like someone waking from a sweet dream.

“Dancing… like, tonight?”

“Yes,” you said, your smile blooming with challenge. “I want to see what those hips can still do.”

She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling with mischief. “I thought I already proved that last night.”

Her hand slid down boldly, cupping your mound with surgical precision and you moaned, open and deep, not bothering to hide it.

“Bitch.” You muttered, already laughing against the pillow.

“I’m older. Doesn’t mean I don’t know how to dance.” She said, teasing like she was making a promise.

And before things could escalate again—the heat still pulsing between your legs, her touch still lingering—you were already on your feet, energized by what felt like your first official date.

“Where are you going?” Agatha asked, her voice already sounding… needy, like she didn’t want you too far.

“Making breakfast!” You announced like it was a grand mission. Not even bothering to dress, you wrapped her floral robe over your naked body and walked barefoot across the wooden floor. “Coffee, no sugar, right?”

You were already at the door when you heard:

“Actually…” you turned. Agatha was propped up against the pillows, her hair tousled like dark silk, eyes half-lidded but alive—already dancing. “Today, I want to try new things…” she said, with a deliberate pause. “Sweeter things.”

You smiled and it wasn’t just about the coffee.

The day passed like a lazy dream. The coffee was sweet, lunch was some improvised pasta because Agatha hadn’t gone shopping. 

Time felt suspended between stolen kisses, gentle touches, and small discoveries about each other’s tastes.

You never imagined how soft the future governor could be.

And now that you know, you can’t afford to lose it. Maybe… maybe you shouldn’t tell her about Thanos. Not because it’s not your place—though it isn’t, really—but because you don’t want to lose this.

Her smile.

For you.

That night, reality knocked like a damn sledgehammer. Holy shit. It was really happening.

You and Agatha. 

Going out.

Together.

You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your earrings. The black dress left your arms bare, your clavicles prominent.

When you turned around, she was there.

Leaning against the closet doorway, her hair in perfectly undone waves. A dark blue satin dress hugged her waist just right. Long legs. Elegant neckline. And her lips… tinted a soft baby pink that made her look alive.

She looked… young.

Not in appearance, in spirit.

You forgot how to breathe.

She didn’t notice at first. She seemed nervous, uncomfortable in her own skin, like she was revealing too much.

“What?” She asked. “Too much lipstick? Is the dress too shor—”

“Agatha.”

You cut her off, your voice firmer than you expected from yourself.

She looked at you, startled.

“You look beautiful.”

And then you saw it, something in her broke, like an invisible wall, built with years of control and self-defense, finally cracked down the middle.

Her shoulders dropped half a centimeter. Her eyes softened. Her mouth opened just a little, as if to thank you, but no sound came.

She looked… vulnerable. 

And stunning. 

And yours.

For a second, she wasn’t the political witch, the calculated mother, the untouchable woman.

She was just Agatha. Undone by a compliment. By you.

The club in Oregon was smaller than the ones in the city, but pulsed with raw, young, sweaty energy. Neon lights painted the crowd in lilac and electric blue while the bass made the floor vibrate.

You walked in hand-in-hand with Agatha, slipping through the dancing bodies like you were home.

But she hesitated.

Stopped just at the edge of the dance floor, eyes scanning the crowd with an unreadable expression.

It wasn’t the noise or the heat, it was deeper, like she was observing a planet she hadn’t lived on in decades.

“You okay?” You asked, leaning close, your mouth brushing her earlobe to be heard over the music.

She nodded, forcing a smile.

“It’s been a while… since I was in a place like this. A long while.”

You squeezed her hand. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. Being here with you is already everything.”

You smiled so hard your jaw hurt.

Agatha looked at you. You swore she saw something, because her brow furrowed, her jaw tensed.

“What is it? Did I say something wrong?”

She cupped the back of your neck and held you there.

“You’re so good to me, aren’t you?”

She sounded enchanted, like she was touching something she’d been denied for too long.

You didn’t know what to say. The way she said it… Like a confession. Or an apology. Or the first time she let herself believe.

The music shifted—something sensual and magnetic—and snapped you both out of it.

Agatha blinked slowly. Something changed in her face. Her shoulders relaxed and a smile bloomed.

“I used to dance to this in the back of campus, you know? Drinking cheap wine and wearing a blue eyeliner.”

Your mind raced, picturing a younger Agatha—intense, wild, no pressure from the world—dancing with no pressures.

A life taken from her, a life stolen by a patriarchal society.

But before you could respond, she pulled you in.

No asking.

Words like violence

Break the silence

Come crashing in

Into my little world

Her hands gripped your hips, and your bodies molded into each other like they belonged.

The sultry melody wrapped around you both, but all you could hear was her breathing.

Agatha danced like she remembered.

Who she was. What she wanted. What she could do with her hips.

And she did.

Painful to me

Pierce right through me

Can't you understand?

Oh, my little girl

Her body moved with dangerous grace. Slow and precise. She leaned back against you, head on your shoulder, hand clasping yours.

You tried to breathe.

Failed.

She turned again, pressed her forehead to yours. 

“You make me forget everything.” She murmured, eyes burning with something unspoken.

Then her lips captured yours, fierce and desperate.

The kiss grew, heated, your bodies rubbing together in the middle of that sweltering crowd.

When she pulled your head back, you saw it, wildness. The hunger of a lioness.

She dragged you off the dance floor. The music still pounded under your feet.

All I ever wanted

All I ever needed is here in my arms

Words are very unnecessary

They can only do harm

The club’s bathroom was a tiny white-tiled box lit by blacklight, smelling of disinfectant and her expensive perfume.

She shoved you against the door with a thud, eyes smudged and burning like coals.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” She whispered, trembling hands cradling your face. 

The kiss was fire.

Teeth biting, tongue claiming every inch. Your hands found her hips under that tight skirt, fingers sinking into her soft flesh as she ground against your thigh with a low groan.

Vows are spoken

To be broken

Feelings are intense

Words are trivial

“I want to feel you,” she panted, bunching your dress up to your waist. “All of you. Now.”

Her skirt slid up in one smooth motion, revealing the tiniest lace underwear.

You laughed against her lips, breathless from shock.

Pleasures remain

So does the pain

Words are meaningless

And forgettable

"Planning this, Mommy?"

She answered with a bite to your neck and a roll of her hips that stole your breath. "Good old Agatha was crazy for this."

Your hands trembled as you tugged down the straps of her dark blue dress, exposing her perfect breasts—full, rosy, nipples already hard. 

When your mouth captured them, she cried out, her fingers digging into your hair with near-painful force.

"Yes, just like that, fuck," she growled, guiding your hand between her legs. "You suck Mommy so well."

The wetness you found there made you moan. She was soaked, pulsing against your fingers like a wild heart. When you pushed two fingers inside at once, her legs shook violently.

"Slower," Agatha ordered, but her body betrayed her words, her hips rising to take more. "I want it to last... want to feel every second..."

Your foreheads touched, breaths mingling, bodies moving in a rhythm that was less a dance and more an ancient ritual.

All I ever wanted

All I ever needed is here in my arms

Words are very unnecessary

They can only do harm

You saw the exact moment when she lost herself. Eyes rolling back, mouth open in silent moans, fingers leaving marks on your skin as if afraid she’d disappear.

When her orgasm hit, it came with a muffled scream against your shoulder, her body writhing like a live wire. 

All I ever wanted

All I ever needed is here in my arms

Words are very unnecessary

They can only do harm

You held her through every wave, kissing her closed eyelids, her damp cheeks, the corners of her mouth that kept curling into a smile.

"Look at me." You asked when she came back to herself.

Her eyes were two black oceans. No longer stormy, but free. She kissed you then with a sweetness that ached, her trembling hands cradling your face.

"Thank you." She whispered against your lips, and you knew it wasn’t for the orgasm.

It was for reminding her who she was.

For letting her be.

When you left the bathroom hand in hand, the music was still playing. And Agatha—your wild, free Agatha—pulled you into another dance, this time without fear.

All I ever wanted

All I ever needed is here in my arms

Words are very unnecessary

They can only do harm

The door clicked softly behind you. The muffled sounds of the night city faded in the hallway as Agatha dropped the keys on the table with a quiet sigh.

You could still feel the heat of her body on yours—her hands, her taste, the mingled scent of expensive perfume and unrestrained desire.

Agatha moved past you, removing her earrings, her heels, slowly unzipping her dress as if shedding a role that had constricted her more than the fabric itself.

"I haven’t had fun like this in… years," she murmured, not looking at you, her voice caught between exhaustion and joy. "I’m going to take a shower."

And she disappeared down the hall.

You stood there alone in the dim bedroom. Sat on the edge of the bed, still in your crumpled satin dress, grinning like an idiot.

Then you realized.

You were lost.

Not in fear.

In the fall.

In the passion.

You thought of Thanos. Of Barkley. Of her son. Thought maybe you’d crossed a line you shouldn’t have.

But when she gripped the back of your neck, when she told you how good you were for her… that felt truer than anything you’d ever known.

You pressed your hands to your face, trying to steady your breath. This wasn’t the time to drown in the feeling.

Not yet.

The phone buzzed.

On the dresser, Agatha’s iPhone lit up, the screen casting a glow in the dark room.

Maybe it was Barkley. Or Nicky.

You hesitated, but instinct won out. Better to check, make sure it wasn’t urgent.

You picked up the phone and swallowed hard at the notification.

Tony Stark

Confirmed our dinner for Friday?

Your body turned to ice.

You didn’t know what hurt more. The fact that he was still around, or the casual, intimate use of our.

Our dinner.

Friday.

You glanced toward the bathroom door. The shower was still running, the sound muffled. You could hear her humming a song.

And then it hit you. No matter how much Agatha had freed herself tonight, no matter how much she was with you, there were still locked doors inside her.

Doors where Tony Stark still had a key.

And you… you didn’t know if you were just a guest or if you were building a home.

You read it again.

And again.

The smile still lingering on your face slowly faded, like snow touching hot iron.

Your chest tightened in a strange way. Not fear, not sadness. It was…

Jealousy.

A hot, acidic and stupid jealousy.

You hated feeling it.

But you hated even more that he could send a message like that, in the middle of the night.

With that kind of freedom.

And the cruelest part? Maybe he could. Maybe he still had that space. Maybe he’d never left it.

You locked the phone again with an automatic flick, as if the glow of the screen could burn your skin.

From the bathroom, Agatha’s voice escaped between the shower’s spray. She sang softly, perfectly in tune, as if the world wasn’t shaking beneath her feet.

You fell back onto the bed, the fabric riding up your thighs, irritating your skin.

Your mouth still tasted like her, your body still burned from her touch. But now… now your heart was pounding out of rhythm.

You turned your face into the pillow and whispered to yourself, so quiet no one would hear:

"It’s just dinner."

But you didn’t believe it, not even a little.

And when you heard the bathroom door open, steam spilling into the bedroom, you pretended to be asleep.

Because if she looked at you now, she’d see.

She’d see you were already boiling inside. She’d see that, of all the dangerous things she’d awakened in you…

You were jealous.

And completely, hopelessly in love with her.

~*~

urghhh, the bad vibes... sorry. And don't judge our girl about not tell about thanos bc it should hard to be in her place too :/

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher @reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good @imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqlz @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp @lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01 @aboutcustardcreams @upsidedowndanvers @starbucks-06 @absolute-memegarbage @trinity2k @greyella @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @whitelotus00 @dandelions4us @creaturesaphique @warpdrive-witch @sweetmidnights @dingdongthetail @mommy-mommy-mommy-hi @milfovers4 @jaylie-bee @holystrangersalad @chlondykebar @natashashill @harknessshi @whoreforolderfictionalwomen @ahintofchaos @lowlyjelly @xblinkx2 @rmaximoff @loveshineslikethesky

[huntrcssqueen]

Evelyn knew what they were capable of, what they had done. She had a front row view before hand, she felt the abuse herself. She couldn't take his pain away in the moment, couldn't take away the memories that burned into his skull. She was powerless here. Bodies were everywhere, a trail left without a single thought of remorse about them, about what she did to them because she wanted to do so much worse. She wanted to rip their bodies apart for the harm that they did to Gage, the endless pain he felt like he was in.

Her hand shakily stroked his cheek, almost like to anchor herself there, to pull him to fight for life, to live. She held onto his hand, her one still on his face as she pulled their hands toward her chest, holding onto him tightly as she nodded her head. ❝ I did say that... Yeah. ❞ She let out a breathy laugh, like that would somehow fix it all. ❝ This isn't the end, it's not. ❞ She agreed, she was going to be there for him, every step of the way. The crack in his voice shattered her very well being.

Nodding her head, she took in a sharp breathe, burning her lunge to try and breathe. ❝ I meant forever when I said I love you. ❞ She whispered as she wrapped her fangs into his neck, letting the venom pierce into his skin, to change his blood cells. She held herself back, knowing how hungry she was in order to heal. In the past two or so months since being a vampire she got so much more control, understanding of her powers and abilities, control of the hunger as she could be in the same room as blood and not freak out. ❝ The pain won't last long... you'll feel better soon. When this is all over we'll go to city hall, we'll sign out names away and officially be married, have out own little celebration. ❞ She spoke as she rested her forehead against his, her thumb stroking his cheek to keep him there with her.

Feeling his wrists become free, he put his hands in his lap. Being held up, he ached. Everything ached. His eyes were watery, something that he couldn't control. It was from the pain and fear of dying. They did unspeakable things to him, things that would haunt him forever. She had to make a choice before it would become too late. The vampires were dead, the place was full of blood packs and everything they could live on. They could live here if they wanted to.

He gave a smile, out of all that he was going through, he managed to smile at her. "You have to turn me, Evelyn." His voice hoarse but steady. Blood stained his lips, and every breath rattled in his chest, but his eyes never left hers. "I’m not ready to die… not like this. Not when you're right here. Not when I finally found something worth staying for." His fingers trembled as they reached for her hand, trying to anchor himself to her warmth. "You said we’d figure it out… So figure it out with me. Please." His voice cracked at the end, raw emotion breaking through the bravado. "I don’t want this to be the end of us."

Gage knew what he was asking for. He knew that turning him would come with pain; a pain far worse than anything but he was already enduring pain that he would think it would equal itself out. Maybe it would knock him out from the pain, sleep until his body wakes up as a vampire. "If you want me to live, you will do this. And I know, you can do it." They would reverse roles, Evelyn would have to take care of him and stop him from going insane for blood.

[legendofmorons]

Written in the stars (forever on loop) chapter fifteen - Exile

Pairing: pre! Poly! Chain x reader, Wind & reader

Rating: T

Summary: you and Hyrule's wake up after the dungeon disaster and some hard conversations are had. Hyrule has a realization. Unfortunately there are still many more difficult discussions to come.

(Aka: you tell the same story three times, Hyrule has a realization and too many feelings, and Wild is pretty sure tomorrow is going to suck.)

Warnings: cursing, grief, hard discussions

Other: If I missed anything, please let me know.

Previous masterlist next

-------

Four is in the middle of staring into the trees and arguing with himself mentally during watch when you jolt awake.

It's been almost twenty-four hours since you emerged from the temple, and you are only now awake.

You gasp, startling upright with wide eyes as you look around. Your shoulders are high, and your breathing is shaky.

"You're awake," Four breathes out.

Your gaze snaps to him, shoulders relaxing. "Hi."

"Hi," Four echoes.

"Where's Hyrule?" You ask as you start looking around again.

Four points behind you to where Hyrule lays in his own bed roll. "He's there. He hasn't woken up yet."

You turn to look at Hyrule and elaborate on your thoughts further. "Oh, thank goodness. He's alive."

"He is. You both looked... rough when you came out.

You give a shaky laugh. "I felt rough, too."

For just hums, finding the least aggressive way to ask the question that weighs in his mind. "Why did you go in?"

You look at him, gaze guarding yourself. "Hyrule was... he went in and wasn't himself... I went in after him."

That... isn't what Four thought you would say. It's a little reassuring that you aren't the one who went in first, but that you went in at all is terrifying.

That's the kind of thing his angel would do.

You aren't them, though.

(Right?)

"What even happened?" Four asks you.

"The whole place was an evil magic death trap," you sigh as you lean back onto your hands. You sound as if you are resigning yourself to something and only half awake while you do so.

"That sounds right."

"There wasn't even a tool or anything cool at the end. Our prize was not dying," you snort, not awake enough to try to be outwardly upbeat just yet.

"Well I glad you're alive."

"Yeah... me too."

Four wants so badly to ask for more information.

He wants so bad to ask for what exactly happened.

He wants to ask about why you were dragging Hyrule out of the place.

He wants to wrap you up and shield you from the world.

He wants to shake you and demand that you never do this again.

"I'm sure I'm preaching to the choir, but dungeons are awful, and I hate whoever makes them," you sigh as you get out of your bedroll and stand up.

Four snorts at that, "You're right."

"Yeah. I don't know how you guys do them."

"We have to."

"That... makes sense," you sigh.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Four asks softly, allowing himself to embrace the softer parts of him for a moment.

He can't let them run the show for long right now, not while you're here stirring up grief and guilt. He knows it isn't your fault, though.

He just also can't let his emotions run the show while he's so - unsure of his emotions.

You give a slow sigh. "I'm just - it's been a rough however long we were in there."

"About two days," Four says.

You make a soft sound. "Oh."

"Do you.... want to talk about it?" Four asks.

You just sigh again, "I just - I messed up everything. I tried to do the right thing, but all I did was mess up."

"I'm sure that's not true. You made it out."

"I - you're going to be so mad at me - all of you are."

He frowns, unsure what could possibly be as bad as you're saying. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"Just - If I tell you you have to agree not to yell at me until I'm done."

"I'm not going to yell," Four says immediately.

He means it.

Even if you're right and he is about to be mad at you - which he very much doubts - yelling is not the solution.

You sigh, crossing over to come sit closer to him.

"I made a deal with a fae, made Hyrule a Promise after saying I wouldn't do that, and used violence to knock him out and then dragged him," you say quickly, looking at the fire instead of anywhere else.

Four just swallows. That... sounds bad, all right, but there has to be more to the story. Up until now, you haven't shown violent tendencies towards people.

"Why?" He prompts.

You look at him this time, shoulders hunching up by your ears. "I - I wasn't thinking when I made that Promise to Hyrule. I say things like that, and I didn't realize until after! I know that dosen’t make up for it, but I didn't - I didn't mean to."

"I'm not mad at you for that. You know it was wrong, and you're going to make a better effort going forward, aren't you?"

"I am! I don't want to cross his boundaries ever," you say with enough guilt in your voice and posture to paint an entire castle.

"Okay. You'll have to talk to Hyrule about it, but I'm not mad at you for that."

"And the other things?"

"That depends on context," Four says carefully.

You nod and bite your lip. "I - don't know what exactly was going on in that temple, but there was some sort of... magic that was being used on Hyrule to make him hear things, and he wasn't really aware of reality."

"You mentioned he was acting weird."

"I don't know what he heard. He had maybe ten minutes of lucidity total... but there was a fae who controls the temple, I guess? They were the final challenge or something. We were given a choice to stay or leave."

"And he chose to stay?" Four asks with mounting dread.

If Hyrule was being controlled by faerie compulsion magic to the extra you say....

Well, that's bad on levels Four isn't able to name just yet.

"He did. Whatever magic was being used just got stronger the longer we were there. I said he couldn't stay and... was offered a deal..." you say as you toss him a quick glance.

"Tell me you didn't..." Four manages shakily.

Making a promise to Hyrule is bad enough. The man is a fae himself, which Four only knows because of the blacksmith's own herritage...

Making a deal with a malicious fae? That's often deadly.

You crack a shaking smile, "I was told if I could get Hyrule out in an hour, we would both be free."

"That was - so dangerous," Four says as gently as he can.

You swallow hard again. "I know. But - I the Promise I made was to get us both out alive..."

Four can't help the half sob the escapes him, heart clenching painfully."Oh (Y/n)..."

"I know I shouldn't have done it, any of it. I'll talk to Hyrule, and I'll face the consequences, but I try to keep my word, you know?" You offer.

You don't say anything about the magic around the promise, and Four isn't sure you know it's actually binding.

You were in a situation with no good choice.

Four bites back every ounce of anger for the fae that did this to you and Hyrule. Right now, he needs to be calm for you and for Hyrule.

You are not someone he knows well despite all of the hope he is constantly repressing, but you are someone who is stuck on this journey with him and is doing their best.

"You took the deal," Four breathes out.

"I took the deal. He was so out of it, and I tried to get him out with words. I did!"

"Don't tell me you knocked him out."

"I did... I know it's wrong! I do! I almost didn't do it, but I had to get us out."

"I - there was no good choice."

"I couldn't have dragged him the magic, and whatever he was experiencing made him want to stay so bad he would have fought me tooth and nail..."

"This is... a lot to process," Four sighs as he shoves back the headache forming.

"Yeah... I told you I messed it all up."

"No, you didn't. You did your best in a horrible situation set up against you. You and Hyrule have a lot to talk out and work on, but you didn't do anything just to be cruel."

"I would never!" You say immediately.

Four just nods, "I know."

"I'm sorry."

"I know. But I'm not mad, and the only person who really has any reason to object is Hyrule."

"I know."

"He'll forgive you. He might just need space."

"I'll give him as much as he wants."

"It'll be okay."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Four says.

"Okay."

He bites his cheek, pondering if he should warn you about who's on next watch or about how the others are going to want to know what you did too.

"At least Wars can't lecture me about my shield this time," you offer after a moment.

Four snorts, "No, he can't."

"I'm sorry I dumped all that on you."

"I offered to listen, I don't mind."

"Okay."

"The others are going to want to know what happened," Four says.

"I know."

"You don't have to tell everyone."

"I know."

"You did the best you could in a bad situation," Four soothes.

"I... yeah."

"I'm glad you're safe."

You crack a smile, "Me too... I shouldn't have told you all of that before I talked to Hyrule..."

Your voice is low and shaking as you stare at your hands.

He... can't argue with that, but he doubts it was a malicious act. "Maybe."

"Please don't tell anyone else," you say as you turn your gaze to him. "I'll talk to them all I just - Hyrule deserves to know everything before then."

Four nods. He can't disagree with that either. If he was in Hyrule's position, he wouldn't want to find out when everyone else did either. "I won't."

"Thank you," you manage as you look away.

Four let's the silence settle as he spins your words in his mind.

You definitely did some not great things, but then again... who hasn't messed up?

You made a promise to Hyrule, which is not great, but it's already done.

You made a deal with a fae, but if you hadn't, you'd have broken your Promise to a different fae...

Knocking Hyrule out isn't his first choice, but he definitely understands, and he isn't going to judge you for doing what you had to to get out.

Besides, you seem to be horrified enough by your actions for everyone. As long as this doesn't become a pattern, Four can look past it.

Although... Four can't shake the dread around the idea that you can knock them out. Knowing that you can feels... strange.

He's going to have to work through all of this later.

You sit with him as his shift passes.

"Who's on next watch?" You ask.

Four glances over, "Legend is."

"I'll take watch, I can't sleep anyway," you shrug.

"You don't have to."

"I'm okay to do it. He was worried out of his head. I'm sure, I think I heard him fighting earlier? Dunno, but I know you're all close to Hyrule, and none of you get enough sleep."

"You know we worried about you too, right?"

"Well... yeah? But I'm not worth losing sleep over. We aren't close."

Four ignores the flare of emotion. "You're worth caring about."

"I - thanks?"

He knows you don't believe him, and he doesn't know how to convince you.

"I mean it," he says.

"Okay. I can still take watch. I can't go back to sleep."

"I - if you're sure."

"I am."

"Okay," Four says.

He has to work on treating you like you can do things. He knows this. He won't fight you.

You just spent two days surviving a dungeon while babysitting Hyrule. You're obviously capable of keeping watch.

By the time he turns in, you are plenty awake enough to take last watch.

-------

You are in the middle of putting your water skin away when you see the others starting to wake. The sun creeps over the horizon.

Wild and Warriors both stir first, shifting and mumbling.

Twilight isn't far behind.

Sky, Wind, and Hyrule still seem pretty out of it.

Four, Time, and Legend seem to be sleeping but not far from stirring.

You let yourself relax, there isn't danger now only your boys.

"Whas'i'?" Twilight gasps as he jerks awake.

Warriors just groans into his pillow before he sits up and wipes at his face.

Wild yawns into his own pillow before rolling out of bed and pushing to his feet.

"Good morning," you call gently.

All three sets of eyes fall to you quick enough that you worry for their pain.

"You're awake," Warriors breathes out.

"And talking," you offer with a half shrug.

"Ya gave us a hear' 'tack! Wha'd'ya go inta th' dungeon for?" Twilight asks as he pushes to his own feet.

"Hyrule," you say as if that is a full and total explanation.

"Are you okay?" Wild asks.

"Much better now that I'm out of the evil magic temple thing."

"Good. You were in rough shape," Warriors says as he stands and starts walking towards you. "You and Hyrule both."

"I take it you two healed us?"

"We did," Wind says.

"Thank you."

"Ya don't gotta thank us," Twilight says.

"If you say so," you say.

"What happened?" Warriors asks.

"Evil magic dungeons suck is what happened," you shrug before you sigh. "I'll tell you all later. I don't want to tell the story a bunch."

"Of course," Wild says. "We're just glad you're safe."

"Me too," you say.

The three start about their morning routines, and watching them is reassuring.

You aren't alone.

You aren't the sober one.

You aren't stuck.

Twilight starts his patrol.

Warriors works on putting his things up.

Wild starts breakfast, which you could just kiss him for. You're so happy for real food.

Legend wakes with a start and a gasp of your name that has your heart breaking.

You can't find words fats enough.

Legend looks around and seems to be looking for something until his eyes fall on you.

"Morning, Ledge," you call out.

"You're awake," Legend breathes helplessly as his shoulders relax.

"Evil magic dungeons are, in fact, awful. Negative four was not a negative enough rating," you inform him.

Wild snorts at that.

Legend laughs with a tremor you don't point out, "You're telling me."

"If I never see a dungeon again, it'll be too soon."

He laughs a little more, sounding a bit delirious. "You came out alive."

"Yeah, I did."

"Your panther is a menace," he informs you.

You laugh a little. "Yeah..."

Legend comes over to sit by you. His hands shake. "You're okay, right?"

"I'm - yeah. There's uh some stuff to sort out with Hyrule, but I'm okay."

"What did he do?"

"Nothing."

"Then what happened?"

"I - want to talk to Hyrule first, but I'll tell you all after that."

"I - okay. You're both okay, though, right?"

"I... Hyrule is going to be upset... I don't know what exactly he saw and heard, but it seemed hard."

"What about you?"

"I'm just -... heart tired? I don't know. I'll be okay, though."

Legend frowns, raising his hand as if he is going to do something before he glances at it and drops the hand back down. "I'm- sorry. I know dungeons are hard..."

You crack a weak smile, "Just don't make me do that one again?"

"Never. I - we never want you doing that one again. We spoke to the locals about it, and it was run by a fae who feeds on misery."

You swallow.

So the others might have some idea what the dungeon is? Who runs it?

Wait.

Legend said 'I' before he said 'we'.

He is such a sweetheart.

"That makes sense. I didn't know it was misery, but I did meet the fae."

"You did?" Legend asks tightly.

"Mh, not my favorite."

"You didn't give it your name, did you?"

"No," you say firmly. "No, I didn't."

"Good."

There's the sound of someone moving around in their bedroll quite a bit.

You look over and find Hyrule fighting against his blankets with wide eyes.

"Hyrule?" You call out as you stand.

Legend stands up with you.

Hyrule's eyes snap to you, and he makes a miserable sound that tugs at your heart and your soul. It sounds like pure grief.

"Hey," you manage. "Are you... feeling okay?"

"What did you do?" Hyrule asks you with a shaking voice and wide eyes.

You swallow to avoid making any embarrassing sounds of hurt. "Let's... Let's go talk. There's - I want to talk to you about this all first."

"What did you do?" Hyrule asks you again, sounding more upset with each word.

"Let's go talk," you say as you start towards the edge of camp. "I pro- I'll tell you everything."

"Do you want company?" Legend asks.

"No. No, we'll be okay," you say.

Hyrule follows you to the edge of camp on shaky legs, and you try to shove down the mounting dread.

You stop and wait for him.

"What did you do?" Hyrule asks you a third time, voice weak and eyes searching. He sounds desperate to get an answer.

You don't blame him.

"I really messed up," you say as calmly as you can. "So much actually, and I owe you so many apologies. What do you remember? I'll tell you anything! I just - I don't know how much you know."

"Not... Not much. You knocked me out? And uh - I was hearing a dead person..." Hyrule swallows as he looks anywhere but you.

You wince, "Yeah... yeah, that makes sense."

"What happened?"

"Just - don't -... Let me explain it all before you freak out?" You ask.

You are sure he's going to be upset. You can't blame him for it wither.

"I'll... try."

"Okay," you say as you take a deep breath. "Okay... so I'm not sure about all the magic stuff, but you were acting weird around the temple even before you went in."

"I... felt weird... floaty almost."

"Well, come to find out there's a fae who runs the dungeon that feeds on misery? Anyway, you were in some weird trance? You went into the dungeon after Four and Wild left, and I followed you in because you were really out of it."

Hyrule frowns as he looks at you. "You followed me in?"

"Yeah, well, the door disappeared, and you kept floating away? I found out later that the fae that runs the place was... controlling you? I'm not sure how exactly but some sort of magic. You were hearing a voice that wasn't there."

"Yeah.... I - yeah."

"I had a faint voice I heard too? I dunno, dosen’t matter right now. Anyway, the whole place was a death trap. Tricks and boobytraps everywhere. You weren't aware of anything but whatever voice you were hearing for most of it."

"Oh."

"Anyway, after however long, I got you to sit down. You became just lucid enough to tell me not to trust my ears and then fell asleep. I met the fae who runs the place, and they told me they were controlled you and said we'd face a test?" You sigh, unsure how exactly to explain everything but doing your best to just power through.

"Oh no..."

"Yeah. Well then, I uh- I accidentally made you a Promise?"

"What?!" Hyrule demands with a high and tight voice.

"I know! I know I said I wouldn't! I didn't mean to! But I did because that's just - I did."

"Why would you do that?!"

"I just told you I didn't mean to," you say quickly. "But uh - there's more?"

"Fine," Hyrule sighs heavily. "What else?"

"So after our break where I also took a bit of a nap, we kept going. There were more death traps, but we finally get to the last room where the fae is, and she says we can leave, but you're so out of it, you say you want to stay."

"That's not all, is it?" Hyrule asks you tightly.

"No... I say they can not have you - and it's a whole thing. Anyway, they offer me a deal -"

"Tell me you didn't," Hyrule says tightly. He looks ready to be sick.

"They said if I could get you out in an hour, we would both be free."

"Are you telling me you made a deal with a strange and malicious fae?" He draws with a tone that asks if you're serious even without the words.

"That's not even the end of it," you sigh heavily.

"What else could there be?"

You wince, "So I take the deal, and you are still being controlled, and you don't want to come with me. I couldn't realistically drag you out while you were awake and controlled, so I uhm... knocked you out?"

"What?" He blinks.

"I uh - I knocked you out. I know I shouldn't have, but I didn't know what else to do! And I understand if you're mad and I'm sorry..."

"Is that everything?"

"Well, after I knocked you out, I then dragged you? But uh, we're free?"

Hyrule takes a deep, shaking breath. He clenches his jaw a few times and pins you with his stare.

"I don't even know where to start," he says lowly.

You swallow thickly, pushing down the urge to run.

He deserves to say his piece.

-------

"I don't even know where to start," Hyrule says lowly.

His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts. Anger, affection, fear, pride, grief, and doubt all swirl like a horrible natural disaster.

You stand there before him looking torn between fleeing and staying.

"I really am sorry. I know pretty much all of what I did was the wrong choice," you say as you try to shoulder responsibility.

For a moment, Hyrule wants to damn you because you took him from the place he could have seen his honeybee one last time.

He knows that's ridiculous, though. He wouldn't have really seen them, and he would be dead now.

"You said you wouldn't make me Promises," Hyrule says as evenly as he can even though he wants to kick and scream and fight.

"I know," you say softly.

"You shouldn't ever make a deal with a strange and malicious fae," he informs you tightly.

"I... What else was I supposed to do?" You ask him, looking as if you truly want an answer.

"Anything else!" Hyrule snaps.

You flinch at that, and he can't decide if he's guilty or vindicated.

"I... really couldn't. That's not who I am and... the Promise I made you was to get us both out alive," you admit.

Hyrule closes his eyes, tips his head back, and lets out a heavy sigh. "You really made a mess with that."

"Yeah..."

"You knocked me out," he says as he opens his eyes to stare up at the clouds.

"I did... I didn't know what else to do."

"That's probably the best thing you could have done at that point... just - don't do that again."

"Okay."

"No more Promises, either."

"Okay," you say.

Hyrule just sighs as he looks to you, "I can't believe you. That - everything you did was -!"

He stops and takes another deep breath.

You are stubborn, apparently, and a magnet for danger.

The only other person who could have gotten themselves into the situation you did would have to be his honeybee.

As he takes a moment to gather his thoughts, Hyrule lets his magic take stock of the faint bond the Promise leaves behind and stops.

Oh.

Oh.

He's been a fool.

Your magic is there, and it still feels achingly familiar.

It feels familiar because it is.

Only his honeybee would get themselves into such a dangerous and frankly ridiculous situation.

Only Hyrule's honeybee would befriend a panther.

He needs to do something.

He needs to say something.

He needs to hug you.

He needs to demand what you were thinking.

He needs to sort out the root of the feelings around the dungeon and your actions.

Hyrule is still so incredibly wound up, and he doesn't think he can say much that isn't going to be damaging.

"I'm going to get some air. The others are going to have questions, you can answer them or not," Hyrule says as calmly as he can.

His hands shake.

"Do you want them to know?" You ask him.

"I - they can. I just - I need space. I have to process everything."

"Okay..." You say.

Hyrule nods before he goes into the trees.

He just needs to walk it off.

That's all.

His frame shakes as he walks.

The ambient nature magic should be enough to drown out the faint bond of your Promise.

It isn't.

Hyrule's feels that literally magic bond like a lifeline at sea.

The foliage around him blurs. It isn't important to him right now.

Hyrule's can't name what he feels for all the gold in all the worlds.

But, oh, does he feel.

He feels so much.

Good.

Bad.

All of it.

His emotions are all the emotions.

Hyrule isn't sure what he is even upset about.

He knows he's happy to know that his honeybee is back in his life in some way.

He knows he's hurt that you are on a lifetime where you don't know him.

He knows he's got a lot of feelings around you making a Promise after saying you wouldn't.

Hyrule knows he has feelings about you dragging him from the proverbial lion's den.

He just needs space to think.

That's all.

-------

Wild isn't really sure what you're going to tell them, but he's pretty sure it's not going to be pretty. It's after a tense discussion that has Hyrule in the woods that you gather everyone together to talk.

Legend and Warriors sit on your left with Wind and Spooky on your right.

Wild sits with Twilight and Four.

Sky and Time si to the left.

"So first, I want to say thanks for healing Hyrule and I... it was a rough, however long in the dungeon," you say with a voice that only shakes a little.

"Fourty five hours, thirteen minutes, and three seconds," Time says as if on autopilot.

You wince, "yikes."

"Why would you go in?" Wild asks, "I don't get it. Hyrule was hurt, and you were against the idea."

You look at him, and for a moment, you look as if you take offense, but then you sigh.

"I didn't want to go in, Hyrule was really out of it, and he went in first, so I went after him. It... didn't get better from there," you say as you look around.

"Wait - Hyrule went in?" Legend asks with mounting horror.

"It's not his fault?" You offer weakly.

"What do you mean?" Time asks slowly, as if he isn't sure he wants to hear the answer.

Wild dosen’t blame him.

"Mind control magic? I don't understand it all, but the fae who runs the place made him experience things and lose touch with reality?"

"Tha' ain't righ'," Twilight says lowly, as if he wants to growl. "Only a yell'a bellied cow'ad hasta sink down t' mind control."

Wild takes a slow breath. He dosen’t understand magic as well as others, but to be controlled like that sounds cruel.

"Yeah, well... I went in after him, and then the door shut and disappeared. The whole place was a death trap, boobytrapped to hell and back," you explain with something between anger and horror.

Wild wants to hand you a warm drink and shield you from the rest of the world. You've already done so much.

"What else?" Warriors prompts.

"The longer we were in there, the worse the mind control got," you say with a slow breath out. It's an obvious attempt to stay calm. "Hyrule wasn't aware of any danger? I kept pulling him out of harm's way. He's a lot harder to pull away from a goal that I thought he would be, by the way. He's strong!"

You give a little laugh that makes Wild's heart cracks into pieces.

"That sounds awful," Sky frowns. "Are you okay?"

"Did you beat the fae?" Wind asks excitedly.

Four just listens, offering you a silent nod. He seems to be reassuring you as if he already knows.

Wild supposes the blacksmith might.

"I'm much better now. Hyrule isn't being controlled anymore. I didn't exactly beat the fae so much as... get lucky my mistakes worked in my favor."

"What does that mean?" Legend asks you.

"You didn't give your name, did you?" Time asks tightly.

"No. No, I uh, did some other things."

"What did you do?" Warriors asks.

"It don't matt'a, ya made it ou'," Twilight tries.

"Well, I Promised Hyrule I'd get us both out alive, and you know, I like to keep my word," you say.

Wild thinks it's a tactful way to dodge around the magical and dangerous aspects.

"Oh shit," Legend hisses.

"Well, yeah. Heard whispers that I couldn't make out. That was no fun. Anyway, after Hyrule took a nap and I met the fae the first time, we eventually get to the last room, and it's a mess."

"First time?" Sky asks with mounting tension.

Wild does not like any of these implications.

"Yeah? They admitted to controlling Hyrule and said we'd face a test? Anyway, they left. We make it to the final room, and the fae is there again, and they say we can leave if we want. Hyrule didn't want to..."

"Please tell me you sucker punched the fae," Wind grins.

"Uh... no? I tell the fae they can't keep Hyrule, and it's a whole thing. So they offer me a deal for some reason -"

"Tell me you didn't take the deal from a strange and malicious fae," Warriors says as he burrows his face in his hands. "For the love of everything, please."

You wince again, and Wild thinks he's going to have a heart attack.

"Wars..." Four tries.

"I took the deal?"

"What was the deal?" Time asks with a sigh.

"If I could get Hyrule out in an hour, we'd both be free. I take the deal, right? Hyrule... dosen’t want to come with me even after I asked a few times... So I knocked him out a little bit?" You say as you look pointedly at your hands.

"A little bit?" Wild asks weakly.

"A lot?" You correct. "I talked to him about that already! But uh... yeah. Then I dragged Hyrule out, and uh heard you guys? I think I fell on someone?" You wound far less sure about everything after dragging Hyrule out.

"Well... we're just glad you made it out," Wild says in what he hopes is a calm and reassuring voice.

"Me too," you laugh weakly.

Wild swallows the urge to pull you into his arms. You have no reason to want that from him.

"We shouldn't have left you there," Wild says softly.

You give him a soft, sympathetic smile, "It would have taken anyone with grief."

"It didn't take you," Legend says softer.

"It tried," you say softer as well, "it really really tried."

"But you're here. That's what counts," Wind says as he hugs you from wher ehe is beside you.

You smile weakly, hugging the kid back. "Thanks."

"I still can't believe you knocked Hyrule out," Wild admits.

The idea of you doing that is... wrong.

Some of it is probably your similarities to his firefly. Some of it is just how you've been acting since you met.

You have been friendly, but not mean.

"I... yeah," you say, letting go of Wind. "Me neither."

"Would you do it again?" Legend asks you.

"What?"

"Now that you're out, would you knock someone out again?"

"Uh, no? Not unless I'm the one performing surgery? Please never make me perform surgery. That would be a horrible plan, actually," you start to ramble, horror dawning on your face.

"No one expects you to do surgery," Time finally cuts in. "We will be discussing why, exactly you knocked Hyrule and and whether or not you can handle situations like that again."

Wild winces in sympathy. That's a nice way of Time saying 'I'm not sure I trust you'.

You look ready to be sick, but you nod. "Okay."

"We're just glad you're okay, and that talk can wait until after we get to town and have time to process," Warriors cuts in as he gives the oldest a dirty look.

Wild... isn't sure what to make of that.

Usually, warriors and Legend are the more weary group members, but... they seem to be protecting you?

Weird...

Did you... do something to them?

Wild pushes that thought from his head. He has no proof, and he's just tired.

He can keep an eye on things, but none of your behavior indicates any malicious motives.

"If that's what you think needs to happen," Time says stiffly.

Wild hopes Time takes it easy on you.

"Someone should go check on Hyrule," Four says with a sigh.

"I can," Legend says quickly. "I'm sure he -

"If you're checking on him, you should know he's pretty upset," you say from where you are.

"I bet he is," Sky frowns as he looks you over.

"He does know what happened, dosen’t he?" Time asks you with a heavy gaze.

"I told him. I - Hyrule deserves to know. He just, you know, wasn't thrilled?" You offer with a weak shrug.

Wild offers a weak smile. "It's going to be okay. He just... needs time."

"I'm not saying otherwise," you say softly. "I'm just saying if anyone is going to check on him, they should know he's upset."

Wild decides that tears it.

You aren't malicious.

You just got handed a bad hand of cards during the dungeon, and you did your best.

"I'll meet the rest of you in town, I'll bring Hyrule when I do," Time says as he looks around the group. "I think we all need some rest."

Wild nods, starting to pack up.

"I'll see you all there," Time says.

-------

Next - wip

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[ablobwhowrites]

I got an idea...what if...yanadere cookie run...cookies bring y/n into their world but...y/n is like fluttershy from mlp? Very shy, loves animals, friendly once you manage to coax her out of her shell, a pushover, and coward?

Just I think the yandere cookies would adore that because...well they won't try to escape because cowardly and so on...they will have to shower them with a lot of love so they actually exit their shell...and yeah!

I have some ideas for this but it's mostly idea for appearance wise that can change some interactions with Fluttershy y/n cookie.

I like to think if it's a winged y/n cookie, Y/n would be mostly on ground since their animals are mostly on the ground as they do fly but mostly to help animals or just anyone in need and I imagine when new cookies come to meet them as they are a sensation talked about with cookies, I basically imagine it's that whole scene of y/n just quietly whispering their name while avoiding eye contact and eventually a cookie has to step in a bit cause y/n was failing socially right there and sometimes 'disappears' from the kingdom sometimes to go into their cottage not to far away from the kingdom but is hidden enough to let y/n have their alone time with their animal friends but the only ones who really know y/n's cottage is werewolf cookie and red velvet cookie who come over sometimes for tea or just to be with y/n sometimes.

I do imagine y/n cookie does have freak outs like Fluttershy when they feel like no one is listening to them or something like that. I imagine y/n tends to be in the forest more because they are basically friends with all the animals and cookies panic thinking y/n was kidnapped but their just with their forest friends. Plus since Fluttershy bascially can be friend any kind of animal, I imagine even the half animal cookies, regular cookies, the cake monsters and dragons. For the cake monsters that are not like the cake house it's kinda like the my little pony movie when Fluttershy was comforting that guard that was crying, it's kinda like that but they become y/n's best friends after.

I imagine nutmeg tiger cookie to try and fight y/n at first but then ends up curled up against y/n and purring louder than butter tiger and she is embarrassed being in such a weakened state but she can't deny she loves the attention y/n gives her. The beast are kind the same way but each are different, shadow milk cookie is curious about why he feels this way? Why does he feel so happy and he didn't even crumble a cookie or spread his lies to others to make them fight, it's interesting to him. Burning spice cookie is kinda the same way and seeing how nutmeg tiger cookie was spending so much time outside beast yeast was cause of this cookie? What was so special about this cookie? Until he basically experienced the same thing as nutmeg tiger cookie and he makes a exception for y/n cookie as he likes how this cookie changes something in him that he hasn't felt in a long time. Mystic flour cookie felt comfort from y/n, as that was something she hasn't felt in a long time as this was different as this cookie as she knew these feelings would pass as everything does but she does like feeling this warm fuzzy feeling when being around y/n and seeing true kindness as a small part of her wants to stay in this moment and never let it pass.

Eternal sugar cookie is obsessed with y/n like she is hollyberry but if y/n is unlucky enough to be put into her paradise then she will be by y/n all the time. If y/n sits down know that eternal sugar cookie will have her head resting on their shoulder or lap as she hates having them out of her sight for even a minute and has her sugar angels be around y/n. And if y/n does have wings she slowly has them be covered in syrup that slowly makes it harder for them to escape her paradise until tiger lily cookie ruined it all.

If y/n cookie does have wings, I imagine they does use it often since all their friends both cookie and non cookie are on the ground mostly but they do fly for reasons as like to check on a mama bird they helped to make sure the eggs are okay or to help their friends at the cookie Kingdom with hanging something high up in the sky or to get something in a high up place but they stay on the ground mostly to help the animals at their cottage. The ancients do like y/n as they like the kind nature of y/n but pure vanilla cookie does worry for them as they never speak up sometimes or get to nervous to tell them a issues as he listens to them and even if it's a small thing that y/n may complain about or something like that pure vanilla will try everything to make y/n's worries go away. Hollyberry tries to have y/n come out of their shell by basically doing the one thing y/n hates to do, go to large parties were they no none and they get more nervous because of how many cookies are here and how it feels like eyes are looking at them. Golden cheese cookie loves to shower y/n in treasures as they get a big overwhelmed at how much stuff they bring back to their cottage but try to make use of it as they never had such flashy or golden things like this and do keep it safe in their cottage.

Dark cacao cookie likes the silence they share with eachother as dark cacao likes seeing how y/n always goes outside to seemingly talk to the birds that inhabited the air and he does introduce y/n to a cacao eagle that lives in the ideas as once y/n disappeared in the kingdom and Second Watcher saw y/n outside the walls of the kingdom and was seen to about it be attached by a Dire Creamwolf and when dark cacao cookie rushed to defend y/n, he was confused seeing the Dire Creamwolf on its side resting it's head on y/n's lap like some kind of lap cake hound would but this was a vicious beast who has attacked cookies before but now is acting like a cake puppy to y/n? He is curious about how y/n does this so easily to all animals on earthbread.

(Thats it for my little yap session. Hopefully you you guys like it! If you do please don't be shy and request any ideas for stories or y/n's! But for now please stay safe and drink water!)

[gumigirl]

‘girl of my dreams'— ft. yuuta okkotsu and fem!reader

the first years had been stuck with you and yuuta all day, courtesy of gojo. to say it was fun would be an overstatement, but it sure as hell was entertaining watching you order around yuuta like he was your personal assistant. any time your lips parted to make a statement, yuuta's head snapped in your direction, listening at what could only be described as maximum frequency. yuuji and nobara would chuckle under their breaths, nudging eachother's shoulders and pointing at you both in their own 'discreet' way while megumi sat there as stone-faced as always, unconcerned and unamused.

currently, you and yuuta were training them out on the track, an obstacle course being set up by yuuta as you barked out orders as always— “no yuuta, over there.”

“your left or my left?” yuuta questioned daftly, eyes squinting as he tried to figure out where exactly you were pointing, orange traffic cone in hand.

“we have the same left, asshat. just put it down!” you scoffed haughtily with a roll of your eyes as you gestured vaguely in his direction— as much as you loved yuuta, it was like he had no spacial awareness whatsoever.

“jeez! okay, okay, i'm putting it down! happy?” yuuta huffed rather sassily— but what could you expect? he had the gojo's blood, of course he was a little sassy. he would drop the cone on the ground, adjusting it once, then twice and then one last time for good measure. clearly, he didn't want to get yelled at again.

you would narrow your eyes for a moment, critically observing right where the cone was placed. you straightened your posture with a tilt of your head, letting out a pleased hum. “..yeah, that'll work.”

with an exasperated sigh, he'd find himself back at your side, glancing over at the course to critic his own work. before he could comment on it, the sharp blow of the whistle you wore around your neck caught his ear, his gaze snapping over to you as you regarded the first years. “that's your cue! make three laps on the obstacle course and then return, last one to finish has to go on a solo mission tonight!” with that, the first years stumbled off their asses and yuuji was the first to take off, then megumi, and lastly nobara.

yuuta couldn't help but stare at you in awe for a moment. you were the complete opposite of him when training the first years— stern, authoritative. meanwhile, he was more passive and acquiescent. it was like a never-ending game of good cop, bad cop. your gaze would shift to him and he'd feel his cheeks heat up. well, shit.

you just chuckled under your breath, cupping his cheeks in your palms. you couldn't help it, everyone was susceptible to cuteness aggression in yuuta's presence. his cheeks would flush even further, but he leaned down into your touch, his hand raising to gently hold your wrist; but not prying your hands off his cheeks. “..what?”

“nothing, but i'm sorry for calling you an asshat.” you responded. did you call him that? he didn't even notice. oh well. “uhm, it's fine, don't worry.” he muttered out quietly, eyes shifting away from yours. he couldn't keep eye contact with you, not when you holding his face like that and apologizing so sincerely. he was a sucker for you, and he'd let you call him an asshat a hundred times over if you'd keep cupping his cheeks like this. maybe one day you'd even apologize with a kiss? but not now, definitely not infront of the first years. even though they were preoccupied, yuuta knew just how macoious they could be.

once his words met your ears, your hands would drop from his cheek, and it made him feel almost frustrated. but then you'd take his hand in your slightly smaller one, and it was like the world was quiet again. because he was with you, holding your hand. sure, you were watching a couple first years bust their asses on some complex training course that was definitely a couple levels about their grade— but you were doing it with him at your side. he'd have it no other way.

[devinescribe]

The Kind of Guy To…

Snotlout Jorgenson

He's been one of my childhood crushes for forever (I literally was able to go to the first movie in theaters) it has been my favorite franchise and the live action did him so good :((( my babyyyyy

- He’s flirty to everyone, you might say, but when he falls, he actually falls and pays attention to you and only you.

- When you get together, he’s so scared of messing up, literally terrified.

- He’s an acts of service giver, but in a way that’s kind of scary. He thinks that to earn your love he has to do things for you and EARN your affection. His dad messed him up. In his life affection has never been given freely.

- Always offers to carry your stuff, even when you can handle it. Often picks you up as well because his “loving future wife shouldn’t have to be on her feet all day”

- Give him praise and he will melt. He’s never been praised, so when you say things like “you’re so strong!” Or “wow that was so cool!” Or “Thanks… I appreciate you.” He’s literally melting like a puppy for you.

- If you told him to kneel at your feet he would. When he’s with someone, I feel he’s devoted to the point of forgetting his pride a little bit. Legitimately thinks ‘pride be damned I love her…” Just don’t do it in public. He’d still do it… just maybe a lil embarrassed

- Kept confessing to you, and you through it was a joke until he finally asks you, “Why don’t you like me back?” You’re shocked. But it showed you he was serious.

- His type is badass women warriors with strength and courage, especially those with leadership capabilities. Don’t get him wrong, he loves being in charge, but he doesn’t mind when his woman is the one bossing him around… Also, as a strong, Norse Viking man… oh there’s nothing more he loves than a girl that’s on the plus sized side. You’re so plush, and so soft and so cute and hot and he can pick you up like a ragdoll and oh- . He loves it. He says that stretch marks “are something only FOOLS would call imperfections.”

- When you first start dating he’s scared to even hold your hand for fear of being too rough, too clingy, too much and too little at the same time. He seems like a prideful and scary guy, but when you get to know him, he’s scared and a little damaged.

- Often times, when Spitelout is involved, he just… keeps his head down, doesn’t really talk back and agrees… but when you defend him???? Oh boy, he is like yep this is the one.

- On that note, he won’t talk back against Spitelout UNLESS he’s talking badly about you. Then he goes against everything his mind is telling him and protects you, defends you, against anything his dad is saying.

- Not super big on physical touch. Sure he’s touchy, but it’s not his preferred way to feel loved or give it.

- At the edge, he often says that you two should have just had one singular home, because you have your own space, but you’re always in his anyway.

- Uhm the monstrous nightmare is the most heavy metal Viking proving dragon right? Yeah thats his dragon. He has to be one hell of a dragon rider, brave too. Hookfang and him have their moments but at the end of the day, they love each other like no other.

- Speaking of Hookfang is always so nice to you. The first time you were trying to decide who to ride with for something (you didn’t have your own dragon yet) you were scared Hookfang wouldn’t like you. Snotlout thinks you didn’t hear him when he said “He’ll care about you because you’re important to me…”

But you did.

- Always trying to be useful in one way or another. Like I said, he’s damaged from years of Spitelout on the brain, that you have to re-wire him into believing he’s worthy of love, and that he doesn’t have to earn it or pay you back.

“I just… I have to be useful I-i have to prove I’m worth your attention and your love and-“

“Snotlout… you don’t have to prove anything… you’ve already got me…”

“But I want to keep you… I-i don’t wanna mess up.”

- Late night flights, because then you’re both alone and he can be mushy and not think his pride is at stake. Yes, he still has that.

- Nicknames he calls you include: Babe, love, future wife, N/N, my heart.

- Knows absolutely everything about you, likes dislikes, even down to every mark on your body, he knows you like a map I swear to the gods-

- Whenever he sees you wearing something of his he has to take a deep breath and just “Odin give me strength to continue my task and not drag her back in there-“

- Mmm jealous? Looks like it. Internally? Scared you’ll find “better”.

“Dearest, no one is better for me than you…”

“B-but there is I’m sure of it I mean look at me I-i don’t… I don’t deserve someone as amazing as you.”

(Give him a kiss and say you love him and that changes to)

“Of course you’re with me , I mean I am great I’m… I’m… so… you should kiss me again.”

- Uh certified crashout, anyone talks bad about you, threatens you, hurts you? Oh boy…

- Always wants your attention, often doing stupid and dangerous things to get it. This goes from the Trial of Fire to… now. For Thor’s sake, he nearly got Deadly Nadder spikes in his brain for trying to impress you during a dragon raid.

- Speaking of, going back to HTTYD 1, he definitely tries his hardest to show you he actually cares. One time your house was amongst the first to catch fire, and he had come in to help you and your family out. Of course, at the time, you thought he was just helping and trying to seem heroic, not because he loved you more than his own life.

- Oh yeah, risks his life for yours. All the time. You get captured? He is telling Hiccup and the gang that they need to go get you now! This is of utter importance! He would barter his life for your own, and if he were Orpheus and you Eurydice, he would have traveled to Helheim and back to get you by his side.

(And yes. He would turn around. Because he loves you. And to show love is to turn around. To check that they are still with you, to protect. And Snotlout, above all, is a man who protects who and what he loves.)

[beabatoru]

۶ৎ hey emo boy ! ⟢ emo! choso x reader

inspired by my old work . the only things you find good about the hot topic at your local mall are both the cd's and the cute emo boy that so happens to work there. you think you've been slick with your little glances, turns out he's been keeping an eye on you as well.

emo! choso does think its a bit weird that you've visited the store for the third time this week. maybe you're looking for a specific item that hasn't been restocked yet? you always look in the same area, so he figured that would be the answer.

emo! choso goes up to you on the fourth day to try and help you out only to be confused when you denied his assistance. its not your fault you're too shy of the muscular boy who's littered with piercings.

emo! choso ends up looking forward to your daily visits. unaware that the only reason you're here is to take a look at him to try and memorize every little detail to get off at the thought of him. your little toys barely do any work anymore and you're having a difficult time finishing even when you're thinking of him.

emo! choso begins to feel guilty when he tries to catch a glimpse of under your skirt that barely covered those cute lace panties you bought from the victorias secret across the store. the guilt quickly vanishes when he sees you checking him out.

emo! choso goes up to you again, trying to spark a conversation. he finds out you both like the same movie and invites you over to his place to watch it together. an invitation you obviously agree to.

emo! choso leads you to his house, opening the door for you to enter first because he's a total gentleman and not because he wants to press his bulge against you. your cheeks reddened as you felt it and you let out a quiet whimper. once he heard it slip from those pretty lips he wished to kiss, he pressed even harder. "you like that?" he asked.

emo! choso finds himself fucking you so sweetly and sloppy because he still can't believe he's deep into the pussy of his little crush. the pace he pounded into you had you seeing stars. it was so messy but intimate and his praises made you tremble. "mmh thought I didn't see you checkin' me out doll? you're so fucking wrong."

emo! choso babbled as you both entered the umpteenth round. he just couldn't get enough of seeing your cute tits bounce as he had you in a mating press. your expressions motivated him to go even harder until he slipped out to cum right on your tummy. loads of warm semen landed on you as he leaned down to press soft kisses on your cheeks, kissing the salty tears that spilled out of you from overstimulation.

emo! choso loved the noise of his headboard slamming against his wall, knowing his neighbors would definitely kill him later but he thinks they better get used to it, because this won't be the only time he'll be fucking you. no, he wants you to be his.

emo! choso takes you out on a date to the movie theater to make up for the movie you didn't end up watching when you came over. he bought the tickets and walked you over to your guy's assigned seats, way up top where no one could see you. it was an empty theatre anyways so he knew he'd have to make the most of it.

emo! choso glances over at you seeing how focused you were. so focused you didn't even notice how his hand slipped under your skirt, sliding your panties that were already damp to the side to graze his fingers on your wetness.

"cho.." you moaned quietly."

"shh baby.. dont want to get kicked out." he kissed your temple before slipping two digits in you, making a loud 'squelch' sound. "fuck, she's all wet already for me."

emo! choso is a big whimperer. he isn't afraid to be vocal because he is aware you are so into it. “mmf yeah take my cock baby.. no no.. s’ not big! it’ll fit just like every time! yeah such a good baby! oh shit.. ngh oh you’re tight!” he whined as big fat tears left your eyes. he had you on his lap forcing you to bounce on him as he kissed your right nipple with his pierced lips. the silver was cold against your tit and it made you gasp.

emo! choso walks out of the theater knowing nothing about the movie you both just watched, but with a new pretty girlfriend he absolutely adored hugging onto his arm, and a hardened cock that still wanted more.

[queerfables]

The real Oasis iceberg is Lock All The Doors lore because yeah yeah, star shaped tambourine, and yeah the '92 version of the song evolved into My Sister Lover, but THEN you learn Noel has also said an entirely different song evolved out of that early first draft.

When I did the Chemical Brothers track, Setting Sun - "You're the devil in me" was the verse of this tune called Lock All The Doors, right? And for some reason, I'd had that song in the early, early days of Oasis. And the verse fit, and I thought, "It's alright, because I'll keep the chorus and I'll just write another verse. Anyway, it took me the best part of twenty years to write another verse. (Back The Way We Came - Track by Track)

And:

Noel Gallagher first began working on a song in the early 1990s. It appears on many lists in his notebooks from that period, which were auctioned at Christie's in 1998. "Half of it was used for the Chemical Brothers track," he recalled to Mojo magazine." I had that song knocking around from before we got signed. I thought I'll use that verse because it fits and I'll write another one. It took nearly 20 years." (Quoted on Songfacts)

Looking at early demos, though, Noel appears to be talking about two separate songs.

Lock All The Doors (with lyrics that match both My Sister Lover and NGHFB's Lock All The Doors)

Coming On Strong (with lyrics that match Setting Sun)

They're both from that early, pre-record deal period when Oasis was working with the Real People so at first I thought maybe Noel had "mixed them up" (ie, lied to avoid saying the words "My Sister Lover" in relation to a yearning heartbreak anthem which all but namechecks Liam in the first line). But! Then I listened to them back to back and, wow, even by Oasis's standards... that's the same song. My ear for music is not what it once was but it's hard NOT to hear it. It's particularly noticeable when you realise Coming On Strong barely has a chorus, but the gap between verse one and verse two fits Lock All The Doors' exactly.

It seems, then, Lock All The Doors has gone through not two but three sets of lyrics. And especially in conjunction with the other two versions, the original Coming On Strong lyrics are delightfully damning. The full set can be found on Genius lyrics, but my favourites are the opening lines:

You're the devil in me that I brought in from the cold Your body's still young and your mind is very old

There's a real undercurrent of illicit temptation here, and I love that second line, which also ends up in Half The World Away, taking on far more philosophical implications in that context. Actually, though, I prefer the version of the line that Noel gave to the Chemical Brothers in Setting Sun. "You said your body was young but your mind was very old". Because, well. It does sound like something Liam would say.

Like maybe in a brazen song full of darkly erotic overtures?

Take me when I'm young and true Was it me or was it you?

(...)

Take me 'cause I'm feeling old All my life I've been so cold Take me when I start to cry Take me, take me don't ask why

Noel and Liam's songs always feel like they're in conversation with each other, and it could be that goes all the way back to the beginning. Because if Liam's first hit was built around this theme, "Take me, take me, don't ask why," and the earliest version of Lock All The Doors echoes the refrain of, "You're coming on strong, you're coming on strong," then... yeah. It's easy to imagine one as a response to the other.

That's my take, at least. But even if you don't want to speculate about exactly what the Coming On Strong lyrics mean, the fact that Noel wrote at least three versions of this song suggests that it was important to him. He was trying to get it right. Perhaps, too, he was trying to walk back lyrics that felt too revealing; he's known to do that, as well. And on the other hand, since Setting Sun and the Coming On Strong demo started their life as part of Lock All The Doors... it's not so far-fetched to think they might be about Liam.

[asiatic-apple]

Love your writing! Thank you for taking requests.

I would absolutely adore fluff promp 6 with Zayne and female MC. Imaging them at maybe Dr Noah’s place in Snowcrest? Or anywhere where you prefer it :)

Thank you so much, lovely!! I'm still getting used to writing for Zayne, but I hope this is to your liking 💙 and I apologize for the long wait

Late night warmth

Zayne x female reader

Prompt: it’s freezing cold and they can’t figure out how to turn on the heat; they’ll just have to share the bed to stay warm then

Content: tooth-rotting fluff, mutual pining, cuddling

Dr. Noah’s house is quiet this late at night. Snowcrest’s frigid winds push softly against the windows, but inside, everything is still. The wooden floorboards creak as you pad down the hall, half-asleep, rubbing your arms to ward off the cold.

The thermostat near the kitchen hasn’t responded to anything you tried. Dr. Noah warned you the heating system could be stubborn this time of year, but you hadn’t expected it to be this bad.

You could go back to your room and try huddling up in the blankets. But there’s another, more tempting solution. When you glance down the dark hallway, you catch the faint glow of warm light beneath the other guest bedroom’s door. The one Zayne is staying in.

He’s still awake, it seems.

Waddling over to the door, you knock gently and whisper, “Zayne?”

A pause. Then, “Yeah.”

You crack the door open. He’s sitting upright in bed with the duvet tucked around his shoulders a bit comically and a datapad resting on his lap. The blue glow from the screen highlights the tiredness in his eyes. But there’s also a hint of amusement in them; he doesn’t look surprised to see you.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks quietly.

“Not in that room,” you say, stepping in and closing the door behind you. “It’s freezing in there.”

He hums in understanding—although you both ignore the fact that your excuse doesn’t make much sense since it’s freezing everywhere in this house.

You see him shift slightly beneath the covers, a subtle motion. As if he’s making space for you.

You glance down at the bed, then back at him. “Is your bed warm?”

He meets your eyes for a beat. To anyone else, they’d only see that calm, unreadable expression of his. But you notice the glint of playful teasing behind his wire-frame glasses.

“A little,” he says. “Blankets help.”

You stand there for another second. Then you cross the room.

Zayne doesn't say anything when you slide under the covers beside him. He just lies down beside you and adjusts the quilted duvet to tug it up over your shoulders. The bed is warmer than the one in the room you were given. Or maybe it’s your imagination.

Maybe it’s the way your skin always goes a bit too clammy whenever you’re near Zayne. And being in the same bed as him only heightens your yearning for him. The air feels thick with his calming scent—something clean yet faintly herbal like peppermint or eucalyptus.

You lie stiffly at first, trying to give him space by sticking to the extreme end of the bed. But the air beyond the blanket’s edge is cold, and you don’t want to accidentally slip out into the frosty air.

Zayne doesn’t say a word. He just reaches out, fingers grazing your wrist under the sheets. It’s the softest touch, almost uncertain. Somehow, his fingers feel even colder than the air outside. But his touch makes your skin sweat.

You turn your head toward him.

“Are you still cold?” you ask.

You expected to borrow his warmth, but instead, something about him draws the heat from you—like he needs it more than you do. For once, you want to be the warmth that eases into his chest. Maybe all the heat he makes you feel with a simple look or the graze of his fingertips can finally serve a bigger purpose.

He nods, barely perceptible in the dim light. “A bit.”

You shift, turning onto your side to face him properly. “C’mere,” you whisper, a little less confident than you want to sound.

There’s a pause. Then he inches closer, slow and deliberate, until you can feel the chill of his body against yours. Your legs brush. His hand settles lightly at your waist, no pressure behind it, like he’s testing the space between you.

You reach up and touch his cheek, brushing his hair back from his forehead. His skin is cool. But he melts under your touch—the perfect complement to how you always burn for him. You watch, enraptured, as his eyelashes flutter in what seems like bliss.

“You couldn’t sleep because of the cold either, could you?” you ask with a chuckle. “You should’ve come to my room.”

He exhales softly, something between a laugh and a hitched breath. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

“You never bother me.”

Your voice is quiet, but you mean it. You’re close enough now to feel the soft rhythm of his breathing against your chest. His body gradually relaxes as the warmth spreads between you—a slow, calm settling, like snow drifting to earth.

“Thank you,” he murmurs after a moment. “For being my hearth.”

You feel his fingers tighten slightly against your side, a quiet acknowledgment of how much your presence means to him—more than just the warmth you can provide.

His words and touch fan the flames beneath your skin, and you press a light kiss to his forehead in reply. Eventually, his breathing evens out. The house is wrapped in silence again as your stoic doctor curls closer to you in his sleep.

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dividers by me (please do not repost)

[sorrowsofsilence]

intimate silence I • n.s

pairing: Noah Sebastian x fem!reader

words: 7.8k - part 1/2 - read part two here

warnings: (general warnings for part 1 and 2) 18+, angsty shiz, (years of unsaid feelings), smut, making out, fem!receiving, male!receiving, p n v, creampie, mentions of drinking, friends to lovers

prompt: After seeing each other for the first time in years, all the old feelings you tried to bury come flooding back. Noah admits he regrets not choosing you, especially when he’d felt the same way all along. Perhaps years of intimate silence weren’t the end… just the prelude to everything you were always meant to be. (This is like* a part 2 of desolate love - same vibes and storyline-ish.)

+

THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

+

You hadn’t anticipated him being at the pub as you walked in. It had been years since you last saw him, and surely many more since he last thought of you.

Yet, when you followed the server to your designated booth, only to pass his- his gaze latched onto yours. Your lips parted with recognition, heart immediately racing when his smile made way to his eyes.

It was hard to decide whether to stop amidst the bustling tables and scattered voices in the restaurant; but when he reached out his hand to touch your arm, hesitating for a mere moment before turning it into a subtle wave- you stopped.

"Noah?" you breathed his name as he took in your face with his dark eyes, unsure whether he was searching or reminiscing over past memories. You glanced at the others at his table, offering a brief nod before looking back at him shyly. He chuckled softly, disbelief colouring his expression, as he leaned his elbow on the chair's headrest.

"Date night?" he asked, his gaze shifting to the man behind you, prompting an awkward cough as you stepped aside, letting your friend join in. Shaking your head while exchanging a glance with the hostess at your booth, you laughed nervously and looked away from Noah.

"No-just drinks with friends." Your mind spiraled with the accusation, and the hint of something lingering within his words tugged at your throat.

The brunette noticed you fidgeting with your sweater sleeve and nodded, "Well, it's nice to see you. It's been a long time."

Meeting his stare, you offered a stiff yet warm smile, "Yeah, it has."

You glanced at the hostess again, apologetically raising your hand before heading toward your booth, leaving behind the tangled threads of old emotions. "I—I shouldn't keep her waiting. Nice seeing you, too."

As you walked away, there was an unspoken sentiment that seemed to surge between you two. You felt Noah's gaze linger on your retreating form, and despite the peculiar stirring of forgotten feelings, you were gently cocooned back into the familiarity of your friends’ laughter as you slid into the worn leather of the booth.

You tried to shake off the flush of surprise that still heated your cheeks, and across from you, your friend observed the disarray with a curious gaze, his brows furrowing as he leaned in.

"You okay?" he asked, dropping his voice so the clamor of the pub's crowd swallowed his words.

You met his eyes and nodded stiffly. "Yes, just... haven't seen him in a long time."

"I can see that," your friend responded, his gaze flicking momentarily in the direction you had come from, then returning to you with a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It was a gentle tease, immediately soothing away the tension that knotted your heart.

Across the room, a new round of drinks arrived at Noah’s table, followed by a chorus of laughter. Glancing over, you watched as he lifted his glass in a toast, his gaze straying once again towards your booth. The soft glow from the pub lights made his features appear less harsh than you remembered, shaping half-forgotten memories into something akin to nostalgia.

"Old flame?" Your friend's words snapped you back from your thoughts. There was a taunting lightness in his tone that said he guessed more than what he dared to ask outright.

"Something like that," you admitted, idly toying with the flimsy drink coaster before you.

"He never really left your thoughts, did he?" His words tinged with curiosity.

Your face warmed at his comment, subconsciously glancing over at Noah once more as if to confirm something you hadn't voiced out loud in years.

"Not really," You confessed, heart clenching as you sucked in a breath- something that felt harder to do now that Noah kept flicking his eyes back to your table.

You were grateful when the waiter arrived with your drinks; a timely distraction. But as jokes flitted across your table and ice clinked in your cocktail, a shadow of melancholy slipped into your chest.

Your friend's voice cut through the low hum of pub conversations, contrasting the bought of laughter from Noah’s table. “Did you ever date?” He asked nonchalantly.

You gave him a curt shake of your head, savoring the tartness of your drink. “No," you replied, with a rueful smile.

"But you wanted to?"

His question was more a statement and you could only nod, the sudden knot in your throat making words impossible. He watched you in silence, allowing you a moment to regain your composure.

"He didn’t choose me," you finally managed, swirling your drink in your glass. "He liked someone else at the same time. Things were complicated.”

Your eyes scanned the pub's old wooden ceiling, following a vague pattern in its grooves as if it held answers. Suddenly feeling Noah’s gaze on you again, the tight fluttering in your chest resurfaced.

"Does it still feel complicated?" Your friend asked gently.

"Uh…No..." The lie came out hollow even to your ears, and the man across from you rolled his eyes.

"You're a terrible liar," he reproached lightly, reaching across the table to pat your hand, causing you to sigh.

"He is part of my past," you reasoned out loud, more for yourself than to convince your friend. “I moved on to date Erin, until well… you know…and as far as I know Noah is still with his girlfriend of three years.” The words fell heavy against the illuminating candlelight flickering in between the two of you.

"You don't hate him though?" He asked. A question you knew wasn't really a question.

"Hate him?" you shook your head as you scoffed, almost bitterly. “I tried to.”

Your fingers traced the outline of the coaster as you continued, "But hating him would have meant to forget all the good times- remove all the annoying memories of him that still seem to live in my mind. And...I didn’t want to do that. I don’t want to do that." you confessed, fighting the lump forming in your throat. "I'd rather remember and hurt than forget and feel hatred."

There was a pause as your friend digested your words, looking at you as if he were seeing a different side of you, one he never knew existed.

"But doesn't it just hurt," he began carefully, “to keep remembering?”

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you watched the bubbles gently float to the top of your glass. "Sometimes," you admitted, turning your gaze back to Noah. His laughter echoed across the room, drowning out the music momentarily. A smile tugged at your lips unknowingly.

"Then why keep doing it?" he questioned further.

It was when Noah made another loud joke to his friends that he turned once again, meeting your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that night- that you caved.

“Because the way he has looked at me never changed. Not through relationships, not through time apart- never. There is always that same annoying and infuriating look of hope.”

"Hope?" Your friend repeated, tilting his head as he wrapped his hand around his glass, fingers tapping lightly against the surface.

You nodded, stealing another glance at Noah. He was leaned back in his chair now, a relaxed smile on his face that countered your turmoil, unravelling you with every gaze he cast your way.

"It's the kind of hope that asks 'what if'," you explained, voice low and barely audible over the commotion of the pub around you. "What if things were different? What if we had chosen each other? Like an opportunity lost, but not entirely forgotten."

The man across from you was contemplative, taking a thoughtful sip of his drink before leaning in closer to you. "What does that look like? This hope you see in his eyes?"

You pondered over his question, swallowing thickly as you tried to form words that would make sense to him, let alone you.

“It’s like this lidded gaze- a soft shine of longing subdued by realism that has never entirely disappeared. It’s a look that says he still sees what he saw in me when we were just kids in high school- like I’m still important to him, in some way. It tells me he understands that even when it seemed like I moved on, he knows deep down that I really didn't. And neither did he. And it's not right. But it’s too late."

It was silent for a moment as you fought the water treading within your eyes, chugging the rest of your drink as a distraction.

"That's a lot to collect from a look," he said eventually, observing your flustered expression with raised brows.

"I’ve had a long time to think about it," you conceded with a shrug, ripping the edge of your coaster absently. But inside your chest, your heart beat a frantic rhythm that suggested it agreed with your words.

Your friend glanced towards your unease, watching how Noah pretended he was never really looking over at your table. "And if he weren't in a relationship now? If circumstances were… different?"

Your reply, when it came, was barely above a whisper. "Doesn’t matter," you lied, heart pounding against your ribs as the truth nudged at your denial.

"Even if things were different… he never chose me. Refused to. Told me he promised someone else his heart after high school."

"And you still hold it against him?" The question hung heavy in the air, though your friend's tone was light, almost indifferent.

"No," You denied, feeling a twinge of pain claw at your chest. "I suppose... I have come to terms with it. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to choose me. He never had that high school girl anyway, either. She moved on before him."

"But you haven't moved on." The words slipped from your friend’s lips as an affirmation. His gaze wandered back to Noah, where another round of laughter punctuated the air.

You stared at your empty glass, chewing on your lower lip as the silence festered. For a moment you considered denying it, but what use was there in pretending when the truth was palpable in every word?

"No," you sighed, looking back at Noah. "I guess not. Not really."

Your friend nodded understandingly, tossing back the remaining contents of his glass before placing it back onto the table.

“Well,” he started, and you turned to look at him as he refilled his drink from a bottle that had been ignored until now. “In this life, we rarely get second chances with things that truly matter.”

It was then Noah stood up from his table, turning to cross the room. His stride was slow, confident, a stark contrast to the unease in your chest. His eyes were on you, and you pretended not to notice. Your friend did, though.

A sudden feeling of dread crushed your heart as you followed his frame out of the corner of your eyes, the shadows stretching out on the worn-out wooden floorboards.

"Why is he heading here?" you whispered, not daring to voice your suspicion too loudly, as if to break the bubble surrounding both of you.

Your friend merely shrugged, a sly grin replacing his earlier curiosity. "No idea. But I am eager to find out," he said, leaning back into his chair and taking a sip from his drink, all whilst watching Noah’s approaching figure as though it were an intriguing spectacle. As Noah got closer, your pulse quickened its pace, pounding rhythmically against your chest while your mind raced in frantic circles.

He smiled at you for a moment before nodding at your friend, flicking his short brunette strands out of his eyes.

“Uh hey, my friend’s are about to head out…” He said, throwing a thumb back to the crew that was now throwing him half amused glances and thumbs-ups. He glanced back at you, "and I'd really appreciate the opportunity to catch up. Would you mind if I joined you?"

Your friend looked at you, your widened eyes meeting his amused gaze before he shrugged and gestured to the vacant seat next to him, sliding further into the booth, “By all means,” he invited.

“Thanks.” Noah nodded gratefully, taking the seat beside your friend, and now sitting across from you.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” he added, glancing back and forth between the two of you.

“Not at all,” your friend assured him, though his eyebrows remained slightly arched.

You gripped your empty glass tighter in your hand, swallowing down the sudden dryness in your throat. “Yeah, Noah… it’s been forever,” you managed to croak out in what you hoped passed for casual indifference.

He flashed a quick smile at your words, his eyes crinkling around the edges. Beneath the guise of casual banter, the years that had passed were muffled whispers hidden in plain sight.

"Yes, it has been," Noah responded, while his gaze danced over you, "How’s life been treating you?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, trying to cloak your nervousness under feigned ease. "Oh you know, ups and downs. Mostly well."

A smile played on your friend's lips, a look of knowing graced his features as he stared at the exchange between you two.

"Same here," Noah replied, sipping from his glass.

A skillfully avoided conversation unfolded between you, where inquiries about work and general well-being served as shields against the veiled curiosity itching to break free.

Your chest clenched again, and as the waitress came over to give you another drink, you took the opportunity to head to the washroom.

Your friend watched you rise from the booth, catching your eye in a silent exchange that offered reassurance. Noah politely nodded as you slipped out of the booth and disappeared into the crowd.

Locking the door behind you, you took a moment to collect yourself, splashing water on your face in an attempt to steady your racing heart.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair how Noah just waltzed back into your life after all these years, bringing rainstorms of feelings you had worked so hard to forget- yet really didn’t.

In the reflection of the bathroom mirror, you saw a ghost of your younger self, the one who spent hours decoding Noah's glances and gestures. The one who would stay up late just to watch his favourite shows so you had something to talk about. The one who would wear his sweaters because he said they looked better on you. The one who obsessed over his lingering touch and flirty banter.

The one who was not good enough.

Overwhelm washed over you like cold water, stealing your breath. You pressed your palms onto the edge of the sink, clenching your jaw as you wrestled with the torrent of emotions that roared through your veins.

With a quiet sigh, you patted down your face with a rough paper towel and straightened your sweater. Ducking your head, you drew another deep breath.

This was just Noah. Just a boy from your past. Just Noah.

Slipping back into the booth, you offered them a small smile before turning towards Noah who seemed genuinely involved in the story your friend was narrating. The air was lighter now; there was an ease that settled around the table as rounds of laughter traveled between the three of you while your friend indulged Noah in stories about a mutual friend who had recently moved out of town. You took occasional sips from your drink, contributing where necessary while primarily focusing on observing the somewhat restrained interaction between Noah and your friend.

You welcomed the change in atmosphere. No sparks were flying around or deep murmurs floating in the air, nor heavy gazes locked onto each other. It was simple, casual – as mundane as any other night at the pub could have been.

Yet in the lulls of conversation, Noah's gaze met yours; keenly observant but surreptitiously so. There remained a certain intensity that made you uncomfortable and yet to evade it, felt unnatural. It was like there was an undercurrent running beneath his apparent nonchalance, manifesting as veiled glances and half-crafted jokes aimed to get that entrancing laugh from you.

“Guys, it’s been real, but I am gonna call it a night," your friend announced, a yawn stretching from his mouth.

"Already?" Noah questioned, sparing you a glance as though to silently ask whether you too were planning to leave.

"Got an early start tomorrow." Your friend assured, pushing himself out of the booth and giving a cheeky wink in your direction.

Your heart pounded in your chest as he left a void beside Noah, and a shiver of nervousness ran down your arms.

After bidding goodbye to him with an amused half-smile, Noah turned his attention back to you. His expression was unreadable, a cryptic mask that did nothing to ease your anxiety.

"Do you mind if I stay awhile longer?" He asked softly, his gaze meeting yours across the table.

You paused for a moment, finding your voice caught in the back of your throat. You could turn him away, tell him you'd rather be alone. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. You didn’t want him to go.

"No, not at all," you said, trying your best to sound as neutral as possible.

Noah shifted in his seat, leaning back with a distant look in his eyes before returning his gaze to you. His inked fingers drummed lightly against the wooden table top, suggesting a nervous energy beneath the seeming calm in his demeanor.

Shading his eyes with the back of his hand, Noah contemplated for a moment. “You know… life is strange sometimes,” he began haltingly and flashed a smile that never quite reached his eyes.

You quirked an eyebrow in question but did not interrupt, welcoming him to fill the silence that had fallen over the booth.

He let out a sigh, his fingers tracing the rim of his still fresh drink. "Sometimes," he started again, his october eyes fixing on yours, "we find ourselves living in a constant cycle of 'what ifs' and 'what could've beens'."

You swallowed hard as you tried to untangle his words. "And where has that cycle led you?"

Noah's gaze dropped from yours to his hands, "It led me here...sitting across from you after years, yet feeling as though I've never left." He let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head a little. "It's funny how life works."

You found yourself nodding, the corners of your mouth twitching at his admission. "Life has a strange sense of humor, doesn't it?"

"Indeed it does."

He took a sip of his drink, eyes twinkling under the dull bar lights. There was comfort in his silent observation; a mirroring dance between two people separated by years and experiences yet wound together by obscured ties.

"Can I ask you something?" Noah asked, his fingers idly drumming against the table's wooden surface.

Raising an eyebrow, you shrugged nonchalantly in response, not daring to trust your voice to betray the sudden discomfort stitching itself into your chest.

Taking your silence as approval, he leaned in, elbows resting on the table. A stray lock of hair fell onto his forehead as he leveled his gaze with yours. You took that moment to reminisce how long his hair used to be. Reminisce in the feeling of it tangled between your fingers when he asked you to play with it; or put it in a bun.

"Do you ever feel... like we missed out on something?" His voice was low, barely above a whisper, as if he feared someone might overhear the intimate nature of his question.

There was a moment's silence as you held his gaze, your heart hammering an erratic beat against your chest. Your mind raced to find a reply; a sentence that would adequately encase the pain, longing, and disappointment that had been the backdrop of your heart after Noah had been written out of it.

"Noah..." you breathed out, throat tightening.

"I mean," he hurriedly continued before you could voice any objection or sentiment, "it's just... Have you ever wondered how different our lives might've been if we..." He trailed off, seeming unsure of how to complete his tangled thought.

"...if I had chosen differently?" The last word of his sentence dissipated. His dark eyes were vulnerable, more than you remembered as they bore into yours.

"I..." You hesitated, stammering over your own words as an uncomfortable silence stretched between you two.

It was filled with unspoken regrets, unsaid words, and all those missed moments that formed a silent echo in your hearts.

"Yes," you finally admitted, sipping from your glass to wet your dry lips. "I have thought about it."

Noah let out a breath he seemed to have been holding, his shoulders dropping with the release of tension. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he looked down for a moment before meeting your gaze once more.

"But we can't rewrite the past, can we?" he said dryly, sipping from his glass.

"No, we can't," you agreed, your pulse dancing in your ears. You leaned back in the booth, turning your gaze away from Noah and towards the crowd of others around you. The music filled in the gap left by your silence.

"You know," Noah began again after a few moments, turning to face you fully, "I was happy to see you tonight."

"I'm...glad to know that," you replied uneasily.

He tugged at the collar of his shirt anxiously, taking in another breath. You watched as his fingers seemed to tremble, clawing at his tattooed neck. “I’ve missed you.”

You swallowed, nodding as you gave him a soft smile, “I’ve missed you too.”

And when it was silent again, neither of you could look at each other.

“So how’s Hannah?”

When you asked, his body stiffened momentarily before giving you a tight smile.

“We broke up a couple months ago,” He said, tilting his head to the side.

Your brows furrowed in an attempt to look sad; but the way your stomach began to spin in circles told a different story altogether.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, despite the fluttering inside you. “Hope things are better now.”

"Yeah," he gave a dismissive shrug of his shoulders. "Things happen. We're on good terms, so it’s alright."

Nodding, you waved the server over for another drink; this time asking for something stronger.

"Your turn," he gestured towards you with an encouraging smile. "How’s Erin?"

You didn’t miss the way your ex’s name sounded sour on Noah’s tongue.

"We broke up too," you admitted, finding solace as his reaction mirrored yours- surprise and awkwardness intermingled with a caring depth.

“I’m really shocked,” He said, blinking repeatedly before running his fingers through his hair, “You were together for eight years. Right since the end of high school.”

Nodding you chewed on the inside of your cheek,

"Yeah," you acknowledged, a ghost of a smile playing on your lips. "But things change, people change. I guess it just wasn't meant to be."

Noah was silent for a moment. It wasn't hard to see the shock in his eyes as he processed your words- after all, he had known Erin too.

"You... okay?" he asked softly, daring to meet your gaze again.

Nodding, you shrugged slightly, "Yeah. Took some time but yeah, I am."

Neither of you said anything further then; the server arrived with your drinks and the concentrated clinks against the mugs filled up the silence. You thanked her with an absentminded nod before she retreated back into the crowd.

“Want to get out of here?”

Noah's question hung in the air, and you blinked, taken aback.

"Where to?" you stuttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugged, the side of his lip twisting up in a lopsided smirk. "Somewhere quieter?"

You looked at him, heart thudding against your chest as you considered his offer. Whatever doubt resurfaced about this spontaneous venture was silenced by the surprising hope lighting up his eyes. The same, annoying, stubborn hope that seemed untouched by time. And perhaps it was enough to convince you to take that leap.

"Sure," you agreed reluctantly, avoiding eye contact as you slipped yourself out of the booth, placing some bills on the table next to your untouched drink.

The night felt different as you both stepped out of the pub and into the lightly lit streets. The breeze brushed past your face, carrying with it a scent of rain soon to come. Walking side by side, you could feel the palpable quiet weaving a comfortable cocoon around you.

"No regrets?" he murmured, hands slipped into his pockets as he glanced down at you.

"No regrets," you echoed, more to reassure your own trembling heart than to provide him with closure. He nodded, falling silent once more as your steps echoed against the cement streets.

“You never used to be this quiet,” Noah broke the silence, running a hand through his unkempt hair. “Couldn’t shut you up half the time.”

You laughed gently at that and glanced aside, “Well, life...” your voice trailed off, shrugging at your failed attempt at an explanation.

“I get it,” Noah hummed and nodded. He didn’t press for more; he never did, even back then.

A few paces ahead, Noah's car sat serenely below the dim glow of a streetlamp. As he unlocked the doors and you slid into the passenger seat your heart raced faster. It was just the two of you- after so long.

The soft hum of the car engine filled the small slice of your shared reality while Noah navigated through the late-night streets. Your eyes danced over the passing buildings and strangers walking, avoiding to look anywhere but at him.

Suddenly, he turned up the volume of the car's stereo, cutting through your contemplations. An old song wafted through the speakers, a whisper from years ago that wrapped around you both. The familiar melody made your heart twinge with nostalgia.

"Do you still like this song?" you said suddenly, blinking away unseen tears as you looked at the words slide across the small radio screen.

“I do,” He said softly, thumbs beginning to tap along to the melody.

A gentle smile pulled at your lips as the chorus began, your voice barely audible over the strumming of the guitar and drums. “We danced to it once. At that fundraiser thing.”

Noah glanced over at you, expression unreadable but the sparkle in his eyes betraying a mutual remembrance. "Yeah,” he murmured. “I remember.”

Memories began to float back, images flickering behind your damp eyes. That high school dance where you purposefully bought that floral pattern that made your skin pop- your eyeshadow contrasting the dark hues. Your hands were clammy as Noah approached you for a dance, saying it’s what ‘friends do’. You remembered the feeling of his fingers wrapped around your waist and back, delicately placed as if afraid you’d burn him- your hands resting behind his neck, while you two swayed.

I don’t believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now.

You’re my wonderwall.

The song faded out, replaced by another unfamiliar one whose words became background noise to your racing thoughts. Noah’s inked knuckles turned white on the steering wheel as a sigh slipped out from between his lips.

“Um, we're here," Noah finally broke the silence. The car came to a halt, the engine purring low before dying out completely. You blinked in surprise, trying to figure out where you were.

Looking around, you noticed that you were parked on top of a hill overlooking the city. You could see all the lights twinkling like stars; the night sky framed by the silhouette of towering skyscrapers and flowing ribbon of highway tracers in the distance.

"Well, this is quieter indeed," you mumbled, mostly to yourself. A chuckle escaped Noah as he reclined back into his seat.

"Yes," he murmured looking out through the window at the shimmering spectacle below. “Remember when I used to tell you how people always made out up here? And then you told me you didn’t know how to use tongue? And then I used to tease you?”

You blushed, a soft laugh escaping your lips at the memory. "How could I forget?" You shook your head slightly, feeling more loosened now. "You never let me live that down."

"True," Noah chuckled, a reminiscent glint in his eyes. "I believe you also made me swear that I would never make out with anyone up here because it was so cliche."

You rolled your eyes at him, a grin tugging at your lips. “Sounds like something I’d say.”

"Was Erin your first kiss then?" He gently nudged a question into the silence.

"Yeah" you confessed after a moment's pause. His gaze flickered to yours, curiosity mixed with surprise evident, “I didn’t want to kiss anyone unless I loved them.”

He nodded slowly, processing your words. "That's... admirable," he concluded with a soft smile.

"Is it?" you muttered, feeling the warmth rise on your cheeks as you laughed, ready to pester him, “Because apparently it was a joke I couldn’t kiss with tongue due to lack of experience.”

"No, no," Noah chuckled, leaning back against the headrest of his seat, staring out at the cityscape. "I only teased because you were somehow so sure that tongues were not involved at all."

You laughed, the twinkling lights reflecting in your eyes. "Well, how was I supposed to know!?" You mockingly defended yourself, playfully punching him in the arm.

He laughed heartily, his voice echoing within the confined space of the car. His laughter was a warm sound, a comfort from distant memories that wrapped itself around your heart. It was something you didn’t know you missed so much.

Once his laughter had subsided into a chuckle, he looked at you for a moment too long. The intensity of his gaze took your breath away. You could see hints of affection and longing there- an open invitation to walk down memory lane yet again.

"I was a jerk then. I bet you turned out to be an amazing kisser."

Your cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red at his words, and you found yourself turning away from his gaze, too flustered by the sudden compliment. He chuckled lightly, licking his lips briefly.

"Guess you'll never know," you retorted, burying your flaming face in your hands, “But no, not really.” you protested half-heartedly, looking out of the window to hide the warmth that was creeping up your neck.

"Still got that blush," he observed teasingly, causing your cheeks to burn even more fiercely.

"Shut up, Noah," you laughed it off, swatting at his arm. He raised his hands in a mock-surrender as another round of laughter echoed through the car. The space felt warmer, more familiar than what it had been just a few minutes ago.

The conversation lulled once again, filled with merely the hum of the cool evening breeze rustling the leaves outside and old tracks playing softly through the car's speakers.

"I used to come here after Hannah and I broke up... It helped me think."

The confession hung between you two, heavy and uncomfortable.

"Why are you telling me this?" You asked.

Noah was silent for a moment, the dim car light illuminating his face in an array of shadows.

"Because," he began slowly, "I think it's important for you to know. And it doesn't just remind me of her, it reminds me of what could have been- and what's no longer."

You nodded, swallowing down the lump in your throat as you turned your gaze to the cityscape below. It was beautiful, indeed.

Perhaps Noah had found solace in this beauty during his broken times.

Perhaps, right now, it was the sanctuary that you needed too.

"You never asked me why we broke up," Noah’s murmur brought you back from your thoughts.

"Why did you?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze shifted to meet yours, his chocolate eyes soft under the pale moonlight streaming into the car. "We fell out of love. Or maybe, I never even fully loved her."

For a moment, you were silent, digesting the harsh simplicity of his words.

"Love can be fleeting," you said softly, more to yourself than addressing Noah.

"No," he countered after a beat, "Love is constant. It's the people who are fleeting."

His sentiment hit a chord deep within you that resonated with your unspoken feelings.

"People change," you agreed, your fingertips brushing over the chill of your glass. "They grow...sometimes apart."

Noah hummed in response, his gaze distant as though lost in a maze of recollections. “Yes, we’ve changed, haven’t we?”

“Yes,” You mumbled, picking at the seam of your jeans.

“But I don’t think I ever stopped loving you. I didn’t even know at the time that I was in love.”

Your breath hitched in your throat at that moment, his words burning through your mind. Love. Loving you.

All that could be heard was the racing of your heart as your ears flooded with every panicked beat.

"You..." your voice faltered, unsure of how to respond. His gaze was relentless; not challenging you but pleading for understanding that you weren't quite sure how to give.

"Noah..." Your voice came out as a mere whisper, the name tumbling from your lips almost involuntarily, your mind still struggling to catch up with his declaration. He examined your expression in quiet apprehension, his hands clenched on his thighs.

"I mean it," he persisted, reaching over to gently cover your fidgety hand with his own larger one. His tattoos seemed even more prominent against your smooth skin - alive, just like the feelings that were coming alive in his presence. "Even though we’ve never been together... I don't know if I ever stopped thinking about you."

Your breath hitched as his words hung heavy in the air.

“I regret not choosing you. Every single day I’ve regretted fucking up the chance of us.”

Your heart raced in your chest, the thunderous pulse drowning out all other sounds. The feel of his warm hand on yours, the earnest look in his eyes- it was almost too much.

"Stop, Noah," you found yourself whispering, a plea more than a demand. His eyes flickered with hurt but he took his hand away nonetheless- an action that seemed to echo painfully around you.

He swallowed hard, leaning back against the car's seat while respectably creating distance. His gaze didn't leave yours, as if trying to convince you of the sincerity of his confession.

"I'm sorry," He apologized after what felt like eons, "I just... needed you to know."

“But you knew how I felt. All those years ago you fed into my feelings- when you knew. You knew I liked you- fuck, loved you. Which is pathetic because how do you know you love somebody you never even kissed, or hugged, or held hands with- at fifteen years old?” You sucked in a breath, tears welling in your eyes as you stared at your shoes but you blinked them away stubbornly. "But I knew. You knew.”

His hand twitched on the gear stick as though wanting to reach out to you once more, yet he restrained himself, a mask of remorse settling over his features.

"I didn’t know how to feel. I was confused. I thought I didn’t want to take the risk of losing you by dating you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought my feelings would disappear…that they were just an infatuation.”

You nodded slowly, a storm of unsettled emotions making your voice tremble, "But they didn't." It was not a question; it was a confirmation. One that stripped away any ambiguity still lingering between you.

"No," he agreed with a shaky sigh, “Sometimes I wish they did.”

You laughed bitterly, sniffing, “I wish they did too. Because I just spent eight years in a relationship secretly wondering ‘what if Noah chose me instead’. ‘Why do I still love him’, ‘Why do I feel this way’.”

The words hung heavy, your confession giving more weight to the silence suffocating you both. Noah's eyes were wide, a mix of shock and something akin to longing etched into his features.

"I... I didn't know," he finally managed, choking out the words as if his regret was a tangible thing constricting his throat. "I always thought you were happy with Erin."

Your laugh echoed through the car, hollow. "And I thought you loved Hannah." you shot back, ignoring the sharp sting in your chest. Light spurts of rain began to fall outside, the dispersed patter of the drops landing on the car roof distracting.

He flinched visibly at your retort but made no attempt to defend himself. Instead, he dropped his gaze to his hands where they lay clenched in his lap.

"Life is ironic, isn't it?" he murmured after a while. His voice was quiet but resounding in the stillness of the moment.

"Yeah, it is." You agreed, gazing out of the window again.

The brunette beside you shifted in his seat again, taking in a slow breath. "I want to kiss you."

His words were so soft, they almost melded with the low murmur of the far away traffic.

Your wide eyes whipped to him in a glance that was all too revealing. A gasp escaped from your clenched jaws, an unexpected note in the heavy silence of his trembling confession.

"What?" Your voice strangled itself into a whisper, hands fluttering against your chest as if trying to stifle the mounting panic.

Meeting your gaze head-on, Noah cleared his throat, "If that's okay with you, I mean...I'm not..." he sighed, raking a hand through his tousled hair in frustration, "Nevermind."

A thousand thoughts and feelings flooded through you.

“I- I can’t go down this road again.”

At that moment he unbuckled his seatbelt, hastily crawling out of the car. Your breathing quickened as you watched him walk around the hood to your side, opening your door. He held out his hand, waiting for you to take it.

Shaking your head, you remained unmoving, the sudden rainfall outside creating a rhythmic backdrop to your racing pulse. His outstretched hand trembled slightly under the raindrops gently cascading down on them.

Stubbornly, he didn't retract it, "Please," Noah pleaded in a tone akin to a whisper.

An unknown force urged you to take his hand, pulling yourself out of the car and into the rain-soaked night. It was hammering down now; each drop was its own parade, a silver bead in the sea of dirt beneath your feet. Your clothes began to cling to your skin as the rain showered over you, yet you couldn’t tear your gaze away from Noah's.

Pulling you into a hug, he enveloped you fully in his chest.

His scent hit you first– a distinct mix of old spice and musk, something so uniquely Noah. His heartbeat echoed against your ears, beating in time with the thrumming of rain on the car roof.

You wrapped your arms around his torso, your fingers clutching at the fabric dampening underneath your grip. His body next to yours felt like a patchwork quilt of memories- a warmth that was familiar yet now foreign all at once.

He sighed gently above you, one hand moving to lightly stroke the small of your back. It was subtle, almost hesitant; as if he feared this moment to be just another figment of the past.

“I can’t change what happened- and I need you to know that I wouldn’t have changed it. Even if I regret it.”

“Why?” You asked.

"Because it made me realize how much I lost in not choosing you," he answered, his voice barely audible above the sound of the rain pounding against the pavement.

Your heart ached as his words rang in your ears, each syllable echoing with a pain you related to all too well.

“It made me realize how much I wanted you, and how it’s always been you. Maybe I wouldn’t have been a good partner for you because I was just a dumb kid. Maybe we were meant to experience other people before getting here- I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers.”

“But regretting it brought me back to you,” he finished, pulling you away from him as his hands reached up either side of your face, caressing your cheeks with his cold hands. His expression was raw and open, every hiding place stripped bare as he studied you.

"I need you to understand one thing," he continued, his voice barely a whisper against the pounding of your heart. "My feelings for you...they’re not fleeting."

The wind had picked up, tossing small flurries of rain sideways; droplets traced pathways down his inked skin, catching in the hollow of his throat. There was an otherworldly beauty about him in that moment, one that had you transfixed.

"You were always with Erin. What was I going to do, stroll up to your house and confess?" he broke the silence once again, his knuckles brushing stray strands of hair from your face.

His eyes bore into yours, an unearthly intensity in his october gaze that made you tremble. His fingers traced your jawline in a gentle caress, quivering as they brushed over your lips. His quiet admittance echoed deafeningly in the space between you, wrapping itself around the settled tension in the air and filling you both with an unbearable longing.

"Noah," you whispered, your eyes fluttering closed. The rain was persistent; its rambling rhythm provided a haunting melody to your escalating heartbeats.

You placed your hands on top of his that held your face.

"Why now?" You managed to make your voice steady amidst the turmoil within.

"Because it's never too late, right?" His voice quivered with a hopeful note. You nodded weakly against his touch before daring to open your eyes again, “There are no longer any barriers. You’re here- I’m here- nothing else is in the way to hold us back anymore.”

He was holding his breath, terrified that with the next exhalation he might shatter the moment hanging between you.

"Maybe..." he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "Maybe it's time we take a chance on us."

A dozen emotions warred within you, and it was terrifyingly beautiful as pieces of him echoed through your nerves.

"Is there an 'us'?" You countered quietly, words tangled in a knot of apprehension.

"There could be," he whispered, placing his forehead against your own. Droplets of water fell between your skin.

Your heart stuttered inside your chest at his words.

“Can I kiss you now?” he took a deep breath swallowing his nerves.

Feeling your pulse quicken, you let out a shaky sigh. This wasn't how you had planned your evening- certainly not a premature reunion with long-locked-away feelings.

Yet, in that moment, any traces of reluctance were drowned by the insistent tug of something deep within you; a longing for closure, perhaps, or maybe even the feeling of what should have been all along?

"Yes," you barely recognized your own voice.

The corners of Noah's mouth curled into the semblance of a smile. He didn’t hesitate as he leaned in close, his warm breath fanning over your cheeks and making your eyelids flutter shut.

The world came crashing onto a standstill as his lips met yours, slow and hesitant at first before engulfing you in a fervor you could only associate with years of suppressed desire and regret. The taste of his lips was like coming home after an eternity; familiar yet carrying hints of something new and enticing.

Your body ached with need as reality blurred around you and Noah, your lungs catching every roll of his lips and breath as your mind raced. He was everything you had ever wanted- and this moment was something you dreamed of years ago.

He pulled you against him, the force of it making your teeth click, but not enough to hurt. Your hands clung to his shirt, cloth wrinkling beneath your desperate grasp as the intensity of your kiss increased. His hand pressed between your shoulder blades, fingers splayed widely against the drenched fabric of your top. Noah’s grip was so tight, his lips so hungry, as if afraid you’d let go.

"Noah," you mumbled against his lips, his name a soft plea. The kiss deepened, his body pressing further into yours with possessiveness and urgency.

Each drop of rain felt like a spark against your skin as his tongue traced the seam of your lips. His arm around your waist pulled you closer until there was no room left for regret, only the raw shiver of anticipation simmering beneath every touch, every breath.

"I've wanted this for so long..." He confessed between kisses, his voice breathless and filled with longing.

His words danced over your skin like electric shocks, each syllable a promise etched against your parted lips. Noah was a heartbeat, a rhythm so intimately familiar that you wondered how you ever survived without it.

“Me too.” You mumbled.

Slowly, he broke away; pausing just inches from your lips to simply hold you in his arms.

And as his brows furrowed and eyes darkened even more than you thought they possibly could, you swore there were tears mixing with the rain that fell down his cheeks.

His thumb traced the curve of your chin, an absent-minded gesture as he gazed at you.

"Did that... did it feel right?" His voice held a hint of insecurity, a shadow of doubt. Swallowing hard, you nodded, unable to say anything before reaching up to hold the back of his neck, and pull him into another long kiss.

You smiled, “I want to know what should have been. What will be. With you.”

His lips crashed into yours again, this time with a fervor that sent shockwaves through every nerve in your body. His hands were an orchestrated chaos, roaming your back and sides, desperate to elicit a response that would match his own longing.

“I want that too,” He whispered against your mouth, the utterance of those five words producing an unforgettable melody echoing the long-suppressed desires within both of you.

Your tongue lightly danced along his lip, and Noah held the back of your neck, pulling you closer to his mouth. The taste of him against your tongue made your limbs warm despite the cold, the craving of his fingers pressing into your skin irreplaceable to anything you ever felt before.

It felt right somehow, breaking barriers of the past and what could have been, only to embrace this newfound feeling- electric and full of hope.

Noah carried you back to his car after some time, both drenched from standing too long under the downpour.

In silence, you relished the warmth seeping through you. The radio sprang back to life as Noah fired up the engine again, flicking on the windshield wipers. He sighed, glancing at you with a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he reached over to manipulate the car's heater settings.

The journey back into town was quieter than before. The rain tapped rhythmically against the roof as you leaned against the window, staring absently at the stirring city below. Noah drove in silence, occasionally stealing glances in your direction- a soft yet unreadable gaze that sent shivers running down your spine.

“You’re a great kisser- so please forgive my younger self’s ignorance.”

"Will do," you managed to laugh, your chest tight with a newfound vitality. He chuckled, throwing you an amused sidelong glance.

The city lights streaked past in a blur, reflecting off the wet streets. The late-night pedestrians were rushing into their homes or into nearby pubs, attempting to dodge the heavy downpour. But inside the car, everything felt muted; as though time had been brought to standstill, after all this time.

You traced your slightly swollen lips with fingertips trembling faintly from leftover exhilaration. You could still taste him on your tongue; it was a taste you already knew you yearned to become familiar with.

Suddenly, he slowed the car to a halt in front of your apartment complex.

"I should get going," you murmured quietly, lying to him and yourself. "Thank you for tonight.”

He nodded, turning to face you once again. You watched him, your eyes tracing over every detail of his face; the bridge of his nose, the shape of his lips, and the curve of his cheeks- all before latching onto his gaze.

You unbuckled your seatbelt and before opening the door, hesitating for a moment.

“Do you want to come in?”

+++++

part two here

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[solarstranger]

Hello! Bakugo anon back!

Omg I've got SO many ideas. My brain is just always turning and cooking him like a rotisserie chicken

One that's had me giggling here recently is crush Bakugo. I love when he's yearning and pining for us, you know?

Just him finding out you've got the hots for a fictional character, hearing you refer to them as your husband lmao. Would he get jealous? (He wants to be your husband...)

- 🍡

nonie!!!! the rotisserie chicken imagery is a stroke of genius because honestly, same. 😭 i ended up writing a little something based on your ask, although i kind of made the fictional character come from a game with a certain storyline. anyway, he's still pining in this, so i hope you enjoy it!

c.w. pining bakugou. the bakusquad makes a comeback. secondhand embarrassment lmfao.

navigation. (you are here), part 2

bakugou stiffens.

sure, he doesn’t have the world’s best hearing—he has his loud ass quirk to thank for that—but surely you didn’t just refer to someone as your husband?

across the table from him, mina barks out a laugh, punching you by the arm, to which you react by sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck.

…almost like she was teasing you about a special someone.

shit.

before he knows it, the words are out of his mouth.

“what husband?”

at his sudden interruption, the booth falls silent, the chattering kaminari and sero beside him pausing to glance in his direction, just as you two and kirishima’s gazes drift towards him.

suddenly aware of the attention he just voluntarily drew to himself, bakugou flames.

still, he needed to know.

“you said something about a husband,” he clears his throat, staring at you and only you, although he can sense everyone else staring at him.

“uh, yeah,” you answer, eyeing the rest unsurely. “mina was asking me about it.”

a beat.

“i thought you were single,” bakugou finds himself croaking—voice cracking embarrassingly midway—despite himself. at his statement, your eyes widen in surprise, but before you can open your mouth to say something, mina’s already leaning in, partially obscuring his view of you.

“why?” mina smirks, the same way that always indicates trouble, “does hearing her talk about a husband bother you?”

“mina,” you chastise the acid hero, elbowing her this time, just as bakugou shoots her a warning look, one that she immediately catches, and the pink-haired girl nods, miming the act of zipping her lips closed, a gesture you thankfully don’t see—gaze downcast in what looks like embarrassment.

“i am,” you clarify, struggling to meet his eyes—evidently flustered. “i was just—uh—referring to a game i’m playing.”

“…where you have a husband,” bakugou finishes skeptically, brows furrowed in confusion.

somehow, that doesn’t make him feel any better.

“yeah,” you squawk, much to his chagrin. “it’s part of the storyline,” you explain.

to that, bakugou only nods stiffly—not knowing what else to say—and the conversation shifts to something else.

the minute he gets home, though, the topic’s back in an instant in the form of a gajillion text messages from a whopping four different people—namely: mina, kirishima, kaminari, and sero—all varied, but united by the same central message.

and it’s how the ash-blonde should change his hero name to ‘captain obvious’.

a/n. i'm currently playing story of seasons: pioneers of olive town so the whole thing about having a fictional husband can't be any truer lmfaoooo. i got married to ralph yesterday, in fact. definitely adds to the delusions but hey, as long as we're having fun?

[deardaichi]

023. glances, crushes, and setups — iwaizumi hajime.

wc: 0.7k cw: f!reader. seijoh 4 friendship. iwaizumi is whipped. setups. getting together (kind of) a/n: iwa and the seijoh 4 supremacy. i hope you enjoy <3 anonymously requested

iwaizumi sees you everywhere.

not in a weird way, but in the way that happens when someone becomes part of the rhythm of your day — walking down the same hallway after class, sitting by the windows during lunch, scribbling something in the margins of your notebook with your head tilted just so. you’re not loud. you’re not trying to be seen. but iwaizumi sees you anyway.

he doesn't say anything. doesn’t know how to.

so he keeps it to himself — the way his eyes follow the shape of your smile, the way his ears tune in when you laugh. he learns to recognize the sound of your voice from three tables over. he knows when you switch your hair up. he notices when you wear your sleeves too long and end up tucking them back.

he doesn’t stare. not really. just…looks. like a habit. like breathing.

“you’re pathetic,” hanamaki says one day, halfway through unwrapping his melonpan. “it’s almost impressive.”

iwaizumi doesn’t look up from his food. “shut up.”

“you’re watching her again,” matsukawa adds, sipping from his juice box. “with that very intense face you do.”

“it’s not intense,” iwaizumi mutters.

oikawa leans in across the table, face too serious. “you look like you're calculating wind resistance to throw a volleyball through a moving train window.”

iwaizumi glares. “i’m not—whatever. leave it alone.”

but they don’t. of course they don’t.

on friday, they ambush him.

“you have to come with us,” oikawa says, already pulling him down the hall. “it’s very important.”

“this feels like a setup.”

“it is,” hanamaki calls cheerfully from ahead.

“but it’s for your own good,” matsukawa adds, which makes it worse, somehow.

they lead him to a quiet little corner behind the school, near the side gate no one really uses. and then they vanish — literally disappear around the corner, laughing like idiots.

and then you show up, turning the path with a little furrow in your brow like you were also asked to meet someone here.

you stop when you see him.

“oh,” you say, surprised but not in a bad way. “hi.”

“...hey,” he says, suddenly aware of his hands, the silence, the ridiculous pounding of his own heart.

you glance around. “were you, um. supposed to meet someone here too?”

he clears his throat. “yeah. but i think i got set up.”

your lips tug into a smile. “me too.”

you both stand there for a second — not awkward, exactly. just quiet. then iwaizumi shifts his weight and says, a little rough around the edges, “i’ve…kind of been wanting to talk to you.”

your eyebrows lift, surprised. “yeah?”

he nods. looks down for a second, then back at you. “would you maybe wanna hang out sometime? just us.”

you smile again. this time it reaches your eyes. “i’d like that.”

and before he can even register the warmth in his chest, the soft surge of relief—

“SEE?” oikawa shouts, poking his head around the corner. “THAT WASN’T SO HARD, RIGHT?”

“you’re welcome,” hanamaki says, stepping into view like he’s been waiting backstage. “we did you a favor.”

“a huge favor,” matsukawa adds, holding up a peace sign.

hanamaki turns to you with a grin, too pleased with himself. “he’s been admiring you from afar like a respectful stalker for, what, three months?”

iwaizumi makes a noise of pure betrayal. “hanamaki—”

but you’re laughing, hand half over your mouth, cheeks warm. “that long, huh?”

“at least,” hanamaki nods, unbothered. “we’ve had to listen to him suffer through it the entire time.”

iwaizumi’s still groaning. oikawa’s already planning the imaginary wedding seating chart. matsukawa is narrating the scene like it’s a nature documentary.

and you — you’re still smiling at iwaizumi like he hung the moon.

you bump your shoulder gently against his. “you could’ve just said hi, you know.”

“yeah,” he mutters, eyes flicking to you. “i’m starting to realize that.”

and honestly? you’re kind of glad he didn’t. because now you get to watch him turn red while hanamaki keeps talking, and it’s kind of perfect.

taglist (open. ask to be added <3): @tangerinelovr @oligbia @megapteraurelia@iwantfoodpleasebuymefood @dira333 @kcandyliciouss

© deardaichi | everything here is written with care — please don’t repost, copy, or alter my work without permission.