#i know i’ll see them again but still. i’ll miss them :(

[lovelookspretty]

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: cute silly little gesture from drewseph 😋 progress progress

one | two | three | four | five | six

authors note: this is just part 2 of day 2 so i’ll incorporate the movie night in the next part fs. let me know if u still want to be added to the tag list through replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3

you’re awoken by the light coming in through the blinds. it’s subtle, but it’s there. it bothers you and causes you to stir awake.

you can hear drew snoring—a habit you know all too well, but you ignore it. your eyes flutter open as you look around the room, then you look at him.

he’s dead asleep, but he’s on his stomach, his face parallel to yours. his mouth is a little open and one of his arms is underneath his pillow, hoisting him slightly higher, while his other is reaching toward your side of the bed.

you yawn as you twist your body and grab your phone off the nightstand, then check the time. it’s already noon. the others must be up and awake by now.

you drop your phone on your lap and use that hand to shake drew awake gently, but when he doesn’t wake up the first time is when you get a little rougher.

“star,” you tell him, in hopes that he gets up at least now or soon. you don’t want either of you to miss any of the plans going on that day. “wake up, come on,” you say, and drew’s eyes open once before he closes them again, and his legs move underneath the blanket slowly. he’s waking up.

“mmh,” he moans, and because his eyes are closed you know that he’s trying to fall back asleep. you retract your arm and get up from the bed. you figure he’ll wake up anyway, he knows he has to.

you walk over to the door and open it, then peek your head out into the hall. you look around for anyone, but all you find is theo walking upstairs to his and leila’s room with two plates of food.

“hey,” you say, then pause to clear your throat. you’ve already caught theo’s attention. “what are we doing today?”

theo shakes his head, his mouth full of his piece of toast. “not today,” his words are difficult to understand so he drops the piece of toast on one of the plates. “tonight. leila has this checklist that’s guiding our everyday, and she said she’s been wanting to just stay in one night, relax, watch some movies. it’s gonna be chill, but it’s only that.”

you nod, patting the doorframe twice. “thank you,” you say, then pull back into your room as you add, “and good morning!”

“‘morning,” theo says, and you close the door gently.

when you turn around you see that drew’s awake. or at least he’s changed positions. he’s lying on his side now, facing you again. you watch him as you return to your side of the bed. he has to flip onto his other side again when you even leave his sight.

“free day until movie night tonight. leila’s orders,” you say, and there’s a small smile on his face before he rubs his eyes with his palm. you look around the bed for your phone with a frown, “could sleep in ‘til tonight if we wanted to.”

“we?” he asks, and it’s like he’s caught you already suggesting plans for the both of you.

“if i . . . wanted to,” you correct yourself, then pause for a moment while you rub the back of your neck, looking away. “libby did say she could help me with some audition tapes today though.”

drew groans, stuffing his head back into his pillow. “why are you working during the two weeks we’re supposed to do anything but that?” he whines, as if you’re dragging him along to do it too.

you shrug, “some people are expected to book their next role as soon as possible. now that tempest is over, i want to start working on my next big thing.”

“tempest was the next big thing, you won an mtv award for it,” drew reminds you.

you think back to your tv series that had went on for six years, a good chunk of your life, before it ended just recently with its final season. tempest is the reason why you met drew in the first place—he shared his praise for your lead role at one of his movie premieres years and years ago.

you shake your head at him. “okay,” you say, deciding to get up and out of bed.

“where are you going?”

“i’m not gonna work but i’m not just gonna lay around in bed all day,” you tell him, and you leave the room to freshen up in the bathroom.

you hear a few footsteps that descend the staircase and you can’t help but peer over your shoulder to see who it is. it’s oscar. you’re seated at the kitchen island, and he’s just minding his own business as he retrieves something from his backpack it seems like, then he looks to you.

he’s kind. there’s a genuine smile on his face as he nods his head at you. “good morning,” he says.

he turns to leave and you try to return it, “good morning.” you clear your throat as you continue to watch him head upstairs. from there, you can see someone walking across the hall, just from their feet.

you can recognize his patterned socks. it’s drew.

“hey!” leila’s voice is a jumpscare and you can’t help but react quickly, facing forward like you’re a child getting caught stealing candy. leila laughs when she realizes she scared you. “sorry . . . i thought you heard me come in. are you ready?”

you’re dressed to go out to town, as leila said earlier that she wanted to visit the local market nearby. you nod your head at her and shuffle off of the chair.

“who’s driving?” drew asks as he jogs down the stairs and pulls his crewneck over his head. you barely cast a glance at his body before you look into his eyes, and he walks over. “am i?”

“yes—” leila tries to say before you cut in.

“you’re coming with us?” you ask. you don’t necessarily have a problem with it, it’s just why was it kept from you?

“problem?”

“i don’t know. is there one?” you furrow your eyebrows at him and tilt your head to the side, but you realize the way you’re talking to him.

he squints his eyes at you in question, then glances up at leila. he’s not sure whether you're teasing him or not, but he lets out a short, awkward laugh. “okay, let’s not get dramatic,” he says lightly.

leila, sensing the unease, smiles as she steps in. “i figured we could all go together! it’s a trio outing now! plus, you two are joined at the hip anyway.” she says it like it's the most natural thing, blissfully unaware of how the statement lands between you and drew.

you swallow the discomfort and force a smile as you get off the chair, grabbing your bag. drew’s eyes linger on you for a moment before he turns and follows you both out the door.

“careful,” he warns you about your blatant attitude.

you know he’s right, and you mutter out, “sorry.”

the car hums as you’re driven down to the beach market, then get out to enter. it’s not a huge deal being seen out in public together—you’ve done this before. but of course it’s different now. there’s something strange about holding drew’s hand when you know, deep down, it’s all for show. but you don't pull away.

when you reach the town, you spot a few people recognizing you—actors always catch eyes, even in quieter towns like this one. drew stays close, his hand still gripping yours, a comfortable smile playing on his lips as the three of you wander around.

a couple of fans approach you, their faces lighting up at the sight of you and drew together. “oh my god, i loved you two in hellraiser! this feels like a dream," one of them gushes, and for a split second, you feel drew’s hand squeeze yours tighter.

you try to play it off, laughing softly as you and him pose for a quick picture with the younger girl.

after, drew steps beside you, leaning forward with his hands behind his back as a few record him. “we’re glad you enjoyed it,” he says, flashing his grin. you feel a familiar flutter in your stomach, a reminder of all those moments you used to share during press events like this.

another girl beams, and what seems like her mother is standing there with her, “you look even prettier in person! can we take another photo?”

“of course!” you laugh, and you part from drew to tend to the few of them.

drew is just standing a few feet away, his gaze locked on you. his expression is unreadable—something between admiration and something deeper, something heavier.

leila catches onto his lingering stare, and she approaches him with a smirk, nudging his arm. “you’re staring,” she teases, her tone light. drew blinks and breaks his gaze, glancing down at leila like he’s been caught.

“was not,” he mutters. his eyes flick back to you for a second, but he quickly looks away again.

leila’s inspecting a few trinkets before glancing back at him, a knowing look on her face. “you’re a terrible liar, you know,” she says. “you’re staring, and don’t think i didn’t notice at the firepit either.”

drew shifts uncomfortably, trying to find a way to defend himself. “okay, well yeah, because she’s my girlfriend!” he says a little too loud, and even you look up at him and furrow your eyebrows before returning to what you’re doing.

“okay, i’m joking. god, please lighten up. you can stare at your girlfriend all you want. who cares?” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “is everything good with you two?”

drew hesitates, glancing over at you as you smile politely at another fan. “yeah, everything’s fine,” he says, the words coming out too quickly. “why wouldn’t it be?”

leila narrows her eyes, watching him closely. “i don’t know, you’re acting a little . . . weird. normally, you’re more laid-back when she’s off and doing stuff on her own. but lately, you’ve been all . . . protective. intense, even.” she pauses, studying his face. “is something going on?”

he rubs the back of his neck. “no, we’re good. we’re good.”

leila hums, her fingers tracing one of the bracelets on a stall table. “you know, i talked to y/n last night,” she says carefully, her voice soft. “she said you guys have been stressed with work lately, but that everything’s good between you. still . . . i don’t know, something feels off. you both seem a little . . . distant.” she gives him a gentle nudge. “i’m not trying to pry, but i just want to make sure you’re okay. i already asked her, so now i’m asking you.”

drew stiffens slightly, but forces a small laugh, trying to brush it off. “yeah, work has been a lot lately. it’s probably just that—stress, you know? juggling schedules, auditions, appearances . . . it’s hard to get time for ourselves.”

“i get that. trust me, theo and i have been there too with our careers. it can get messy, but...” she trails off, giving him a sincere look. “you and y/n have always had something really special. and i know it’s not my business, but if something’s really bothering you—or her—you guys should talk it out. don’t let it fester.”

he shifts on his feet, the words striking closer than he’d like. he nods, though, appreciating her concern. “yeah, you’re right. i know we need to talk more, make time for that.”

leila smiles, “good. i’m here for both of you, okay? if you need to blow off steam or talk, don’t hesitate. i can tell there’s more going on than just ‘work stress,’ but i trust you’ll figure it out.”

drew forces a grin, trying to play it cool. “thanks, lei. we’ll be fine.”

leila holds his gaze for a moment longer, then nods as she steps back toward the vendor. “you better be. you guys are a strong power couple around here,” she jokes lightly.

as she glances over drew’s shoulder, her gaze settles on a nearby flower shop across the street. she doesn’t say anything, but her eyes linger, then shift back to him. there’s a soft smile playing on her lips, and she raises her brows in a silent suggestion.

he follows her line of sight, his eyes landing on the shop. it takes him a second, but he gets it. leila doesn’t need to say the words. he knows exactly what she’s trying to tell him.

“really?” he asks, dropping his smile. “you’re playing wingman?”

“wingwoman, but you know.” she gives a small, almost teasing shrug. “i mean, they’re her favorite, right? might not fix everything, but it’s a start. little things, drew.”

his eyes flick back to the shop, an old habit of buying you flowers bubbling up in his chest. “yeah, she always liked those kinds of flowers,” he murmurs, half to himself.

he nods, muttering a quiet “thanks” under his breath, as leila gives him a knowing smile before turning back to browse a nearby stall.

drew makes his way over to the flower shop, eyes scanning for your favorite blooms. the vendor helps him put together a simple yet thoughtful bouquet, and drew can't help but feel anxious but hopeful.

a few minutes later, he looks for you amongst everyone. you’ve already found leila, as you two inspect something on a stand just a few stalls down. you must not have seen drew when he was handling the flowers.

he makes his way over, and his presence is warm behind you that causes you to peer over your shoulder. you’re startled when you realize there’s actually someone there, and he’s so close. you immediately notice the flowers.

your eyebrows lift in amusement as he grins. “oh, what’s this?” you ask, your tone teasing, though there's a flicker of surprise behind your eyes.

drew holds the bouquet out, his voice soft. “for you,” he says. “maybe to make the day a little better.”

you look at the flowers, hesitating for a second before taking them. there’s a small warmth in your chest that you try to suppress, but it shows in the way your lips twitch upward into a faint smile. “thank you,” you say quietly, studying the flowers briefly before your gaze shifts back to him.

you can’t help but wrap your open arm around his neck and pull him close. his gesture is sweet and unexpected. drew’s arms finds your waist before he’s hugging you back, even tighter, but trying to be polite with how long he squeezes you.

you feel bold, and you lean away from him before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. it’s brief, almost hesitant, but enough to make drew’s breath get caught in his throat for a second.

as you pull away, you notice his glance toward leila, who's standing just a few feet away, pretending to be deeply engrossed in whatever she's holding. but she can’t hide the small wink she throws his way when he meets her gaze, a playful, silent “you're welcome” before she turns back around.

you catch it at the very last second and your mouth gapes open, so you take a step back. “are you two conspiring now?” you ask, in fake shock.

he chuckles softly. “just trying to be a good boyfriend.”

“mhm,” you murmur, but your smile lingers, and you look up at him to mumble a small “thank you” again, to which he waves it off like it’s nothing. even though you're hesitant, you can't deny that the gesture worked—at least a little.

@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains

[johnbrand]

New Favorite Brew

With @misctf, continuing their Gridiron Brew series

“David, c’mon we’re gonna be late for yoga!”

Matty shouted, grabbing his mat as he launched himself out of his room. He knew that the pair should not have gotten drunk last night. You could not squeeze that many drinks into twinks skinnier than rails! Matty had stopped while he was ahead–although not super far ahead as he was still a bit hungover–but David had gone hard. He had even pounded back a beer that he had gotten from the liquor store for free before they had arrived at Matty's apartment. They had exclusively drank hard seltzers since graduating a year ago, so when the cashier handed them the beer as a part of a promotion, they laughed. 

But now rushing towards the door, Matty knew they would be doing anything but laughing if they missed this yoga class. They had spent a fortune on securing their spots months ago.

“Ready to go, David?”

“What's goin' on, bro?”

Matty stood in shock for a moment at the naked man on his couch. The brute was large, hairy, and old–probably twice the size, girth, and maturity of Matty. This uber-masculine mammoth of a creature was not at all what Matty had been expecting, causing him to audibly squeak.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, bro?” His voice was deep, resonant and gruff. “Oh yeah, sorry you know how I get when I go too far. Would always lose my clothes by the end of the party, just reliving the good old frat days I guess.”

“I…uh…” Matty stuttered, but quickly recovered himself. Dave was right, this always happened when he got too drunk. “I’ll see you later, I have to get to my yoga class.”

“Sure,” Dave yawned, not even bothering to cover himself as he cracked open another can of beer as his breakfast. “Good luck or whatever, bro!”

Matty left, his bewilderment rapidly evaporating into being simply unfazed. By the time he was in his car, the whole situation was already behind him. Matty’s class was the only thing on his mind. In moments, he had his Top Hits of the 2010s playlist blasting through his earbuds. He luckily made it on time to his class, and afterwards was exhausted. Ripping his sweat-soaked shirt off as soon as he was in his car, Matty took a moment to recover and laid back in his seat. When he opened his eyes again, he was surprised by the metallic glare hitting his eyes.

Twisting around, Matty was surprised to find a can of beer in his car. He presumed it had been misplaced from his and Dave’s shenanigans last night at the liquor store; Matty’s bag of seltzer’s and Dave’s bag of six-packs. The can in question must have slipped out. Curiously, Matty picked up the can, the aluminum exterior slightly warm from having sat in the sun. The label was not anything special, brown with an old-timey football player on the front. The words “Gridiron Brew” were somehow delivered in the most masculine and yet generic font possible.

Feeling a sudden thirst, and growing interest as to why Dave was so addicted to the stuff, Matty carefully cracked it open. He did not know what he expected, but that first sip of standard cheap beer tasted like…cheap beer. There was nothing remarkable, no mouthwatering trigger that made Matty instantly understand why Dave was so obsessed with the stuff. It was probably not fair that he was having it warm, but Matty-

BOOOOOUUUURRRPP!

Matty clasped a hand over his mouth as quickly as possible, his face flushing scarlet. But before the embarrassment had completely resided, his hand moved down to his stomach. His glistening abdominals were cramping up, tightening in on themselves violently underneath his touch. Through his bare skin, it almost felt to Matty as if they were vibrating.

“Oh god…” Matty groaned. Suddenly, the tightness Matty was feeling was softening. Underneath his finger tips, his stomach began to expand, pushing out a thin layer of fat over his abs. A second coat was applied on top of the first, and then a third onto the second, until eventually the bulge emerged over his waistband. And his tight pecs soon jutted out onto his muscle gut with both fat and muscle, their taut nature now loosened dramatically. Frantically, Matty read over the tagline of the beer, his arms and legs bulking up proportionally with his midsection. “Gridiron Brew is for the ex-jock in you!” 

“Nnnhh…broooo…!” Matty pleaded to the open space, his voice taking on a lower and rougher nature. An aggravating warmth began to swarm his already overheated body, testosterone surging as it caused hair to erupt across Matty’s frame. From his dense pubes sprang forth a current of hair tracing over every available inch of his body. Nothing was spared, and Matty could not decipher through his agony if the masculinity upgrade was something to be reviled or cherished.

Matty prayed for his distress to end, gripping his gut and the beer can as his face rounded out, widening before disappearing underneath a thick beard. Age lines and wrinkles carved onto Matty’s once-clean skin, which was quickly growing a bit leathery as his body rapidly aged. Eventually the pain began to fade, and Matty could do nothing beside inhaling and exhaling slowly. Eventually, he realized he had been subconsciously flexing his pecs.

It was a strange sensation, feeling the slabs of meat bounce up and down, but at the same time it was…calming? Matty could not describe it, having never done it before. But then why did it feel so familiar? Feeling his girth, relishing in his massive size. It had been something he had enjoyed since he had discovered it back in high school, right? But that felt like years ago. Was it years ago? Matt nodded slowly–it must have been. Yeah, back when they played good music like the stuff on his Top Hits of the 90s playlist. 

Matt tossed back another swig of his new favorite brew before starting the car. He continued to relish his past glory days, never to realize that moments before he had been living those cherished days, and that they were not mere memories of decades past.

[josephandrewstarkey]

drew and reader have a toddler but they are broken up because reader thinks that drew and odessa are together. drew came to pick up the toddler and they start arguing over nothing because they miss each other so much.

ty for your request anon, i hope you like it!

second chances

warnings: slight angst

disclaimer: this is absolutely no shade/hate towards odessa, this is simply just for the plot <3

words: 1.036

drew starkey x reader

The familiar sound of Drew’s car pulling up in the driveway sent a wave of tension through Y/N. She adjusted her grip on their toddler, Harper, who was happily babbling in her arms, blissfully unaware of the heavy silence that had settled between her parents for weeks.

It hadn’t been easy since the breakup. Y/N had thought she could handle it, but every time Drew came to pick up their daughter, the ache in her chest only grew deeper. It wasn’t just the end of their relationship that stung—it was the constant thought that he had moved on with Odessa. The rumors, the paparazzi photos, they all painted a picture that was too hard to ignore.

As Drew walked up the steps and knocked on the door, Y/N’s pulse quickened. She let out a slow breath and opened the door, greeted by the sight of him—his tousled hair, the familiar warmth in his eyes as he looked at Harper. For a moment, her heart faltered. Despite everything, seeing him still made her stomach flip.

“Hey,” Drew said softly, his eyes flicking to hers before focusing on Harper, who squealed with joy and reached out for him.

“Hi,” Y/N replied, handing their daughter over, careful to avoid letting their fingers touch. She couldn’t handle that right now.

Drew cradled Harper with ease, making her giggle as he kissed her cheek. For a moment, there was a pause, a heavy silence that neither of them knew how to fill.

“I’ve packed her bag,” Y/N said quickly, gesturing to the small backpack by the door. “Everything she’ll need for the weekend.”

Drew nodded, bouncing Harper slightly in his arms, though his gaze lingered on Y/N. “Thanks. I’ll have her back by Sunday night.”

Another stretch of silence filled the space between them, awkward and stifling. Y/N clenched her jaw, her mind swirling with all the things she wanted to say but couldn’t. She didn’t want to argue in front of Harper, but the frustration, the loneliness—it was all building inside her, begging to spill out.

And then it happened.

“So… how’s Odessa?” she asked, the words sharper than she intended, bitterness lacing her tone. She regretted it as soon as they left her lips, but the question hung in the air between them.

Drew’s brows furrowed, his hold on Harper tightening slightly. “What?”

Y/N crossed her arms defensively, her voice quieter now but still tense. “You two seem pretty close lately. The pictures... the rumors...”

Drew’s expression darkened, and he shifted Harper in his arms as she started to squirm. “Y/N, there’s nothing going on between me and Odessa. You know that.”

“Do I?” Y/N’s eyes flashed with hurt. “Because all I see is you spending more time with her than—”

“This again?” Drew interrupted, frustration creeping into his voice. “You’re really going to bring this up every time I come here? You think I don’t miss you? Miss us?”

Y/N’s breath hitched, the raw emotion in his voice catching her off guard. But she wasn’t ready to back down. “If you miss us so much, maybe you shouldn’t be cozying up to her in every photo.”

“I’m not cozying up to anyone,” Drew said, his voice rising slightly as he shifted Harper to his hip, trying to stay calm in front of their daughter. “I’m doing my job, Y/N. Odessa is a friend, and you know that. But you’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you?”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them back. “I made up my mind because you didn’t fight for us, Drew. You let us fall apart.”

Drew’s jaw clenched, his gaze softening as he saw the hurt written all over her face. “I didn’t want to lose you. I still don’t. But you keep pushing me away.”

“Because I can’t compete with her!” Y/N cried, her voice breaking. “I can’t compete with everything your world demands. It was always the two of us, and now... now it feels like I’m on the outside.”

Harper, sensing the tension, began to fuss, and Drew immediately began soothing her, rocking her gently. His eyes never left Y/N’s, though, filled with frustration, pain, and something else—something deeper.

“You’re not on the outside,” Drew said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re the one I love, Y/N. You’re the mother of my daughter, and you’re the only one I want. Odessa... she’s just a friend. That’s it.”

Y/N stared at him, her defenses crumbling as the weight of his words settled in. She wanted to believe him—God, she wanted to believe him so badly. But the pain of the last few months had built walls around her heart, and it wasn’t easy to just let them down.

“I miss you,” Drew whispered, his voice raw. “I miss us. This… this isn’t what I want. We’re a family, Y/N. I can’t keep doing this if we’re not going to at least try.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her heart aching as she looked at him, holding their daughter in his arms—their little family that felt so fractured. “I miss you too,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t know how to fix this, Drew. I don’t know how to trust that it’ll be different.”

Drew stepped closer, his free hand reaching out to gently cup her cheek. She didn’t pull away. “We fix it by talking, by being honest. Not by pushing each other away. Please… let’s try. For Harper. For us.”

Tears slipped down Y/N’s cheeks as she closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. She felt the weight of his words, the sincerity in them. Maybe they could try. Maybe they could find their way back to each other.

Opening her eyes, she met his gaze, filled with hope and longing. “Okay,” she whispered. “Let’s try.”

Drew let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his thumb brushing away her tears. “I love you, Y/N. That’s never changed.”

“I love you too,” she whispered, her heart finally beginning to mend.

And as Harper giggled between them, oblivious to the pain and healing happening around her, Y/N and Drew realized that maybe, just maybe, their family wasn’t broken after all.

[blkluci]

idk if your taking requests but i literally js read your mha boys seeing you fight and fell in love and i was wondering if you could do a part 3 with hawks, dabi, and iida or anyone else you’d like pls

𝒎𝒉𝒂 𝒃𝒐𝒚/𝒎𝒆𝒏 and you fighting pt.3...

CHARACTERS ) keigo tamaki, toya dabi todoroki, tenya iida.

PLOT ) a headcannon of the boy/men seeing you fight.

A/N ) thankk youuu anon for the request!! glad you've been enjoying it :) sorry it took so long to fill. i'm so happy that everyone is enjoying this series. lmk if y'all want me to do a different fandom! :3 my requests are always open, so don't be shy y'all <33

[ 𝐊𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐎 ] hawks is a walking chick magnet—nopunintended. but he's he made that EXTREMELY clear in multiple interviews; he only wants you. so, it makes no sense when his random girl pushes up on him talkin' bout sum‰—"HE'S MINE." she followed you guys around for too long and hawks asked her to politely stop. when she insisted to not leave him alone, you intervened. didn't go to we for her according to him.

... you've been patient enough

... when she twisted her mouth to say something disrespectful you took off

... your fist connected with them nasty thin lips

... keigo's distress signals in his body weren't working properly

... he didn't know whether to pull you off her and cheer

-> "get In the paint!"

... his chants fuel the punches

... the girl tried the cover her face but your hulk hands still found it

-> "LOOK WHAT HAPPEN TO YOU NOW!"

... you was whoppin' her like you had real issue

... kei was really really amused

... but being that you guys were in public, he didn't want trouble for you

-> "okay baby, i think you got enough hits in."

... right before you let go off her bald head, you landed one for good measures on her nose

-> "DON'T LEMME SEE YOU AGAIN!"

... keigo was chuckling as he covered you guys with his wings and snuck away

... in the secluded area he admired your features

… your face was untouched but a bit of dirt on your shirt

-> "you did her real dirty babe."

-> "so?"

... he smirked

-> "she gonna have bruises for a while."

-> "her problem."

... damn

... that's kinda hot to him

... he chuckled

-> "so cruel. i love you."

… you gave a confused concerned face

… he didn’t care. judge him all you want!

… HE AINT ASHAMED

[ 𝐃𝐀𝐁𝐈 ] toya hasn’t been with many women in his lifetime. but he’s been with one before you. he’s never mentioned it because he ain’t like her. so randomly, when she decided to take it upon herself and text him to leave you. mind you, he been blocked her on everything. he obviously doesn’t entertain, care nor does he want to or have to energy to deal with her. so he gave you the phone and you told her line it up.

… miss girl was BOLD

… she dropped that address with quickness

… so being an amazing and supportive boyfriend

… he took you to her

… as soon as the car pulled up you called her

-> “come outside, we not gon jump you.”

… dabi chuckled

… he sat on the car hood with his hands in his pants

… he made sure he pull out that phone too

-> “don’t beat her up too bad.”

-> “no promises!”

… shawty buss through the doors and ran up on you

… just to get kicked

… dabi almost fell out on the car

… you was putting beat to ahhhhh bruh

-> “ damn. damn. damn.”

… your hits echoed all down the dark street

-> “betcha won’t try it again!”

… dabi seen you fight before but not with typa anger and adrenaline

… your fist moving like lightning fast to her face

… you damn near pull her head off with how hard gripped her hair

-> “GET UP! GET UP!”

… next thing he know you pick her up like some WWE champion and body slam her

-> “OH!”

-> “DUMMY.”

… he didn’t know what to say but snaked his arm around your shoulder with a smirk

-> “where’d you learn that? how you know how to do that.”

-> “i’ll never tell.”

… he looks at you with a straight face

… them blue eyes damn near glowed in the dark

… like gojo

-> “you always doin’ that.”

-> “i love you too.”

… he rolled his eyes

… now he gotta go beat twice cause he knows he taught you that

[ 𝐈𝐈𝐃𝐀 ] mr. idc-ima-tell really ain’t have no romantic past. he does however have haters. boys and girls but he’s mr. don’t-care! so guess what, he don’t care! but some people really be bold out here. just like this ragamuffin boy that try to fight him. so what’d you do? JUMP THE HELL IN! you like corbin fr. but what makes no sense is why this girl would jump in. yeah she got dealt with.

… iida really didn’t have much time to react he could only swing

… you watched with the boy put his booger hands on your pootie, you wasn’t having it

… you punch the random in the back of his fathead

… iida notice that the weigh was off him

… but then he see it’s you

-> “Y/N!”

… all of a sudden!

… some shawty doo-wop run up

… iida pulled the guy off you and punch him in the jaw

… boy got slumped

… you and the girl tho

… y’all still going!

-> “WHAT YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS!?”

-> “y/n! come on, let her go.”

-> “HELL NO! RUN UP AND STILL BEAT YOU !”

… poor girl was scattering on the floor like a roach

… you was giving her that work!

… twisted every way but sideways

… iida eventually pulled you back

-> “calm down, please. you’ve been her up.”

-> “MAKE SURE SHE DONT TRY IT AGAIN!”

… the girl was limping walking away

-> “she won’t! i’ll make a complaint to aizawa and principal nezu."

… he was livid , but he needed to make sure you were okay

… so he asked if you guys could have the day off

… ofc he was granted permission

… so yall went to eat and chat

Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be afraid, for I am your God. I will strengthen you; I will help you; I will hold on to you with my righteous right hand. (‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭41‬:‭10‬ ‭CSB‬‬)

[nomie-11]

Chapter 11 - The Awakening of a Life Weaver

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—————————————————————————————————————————-

The sun is bright and welcoming, a warm breeze lifts her hair. 

An older woman is standing in front of her, a red poppy in her hand. Her smile is familiar, her laugh is contagious, and as Genevieve looks at her, she can see that the woman in front of her looks like her too. 

She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. She moves to take a step forward, but with each step, the woman takes another step back. 

They’re in a field of flowers. The flowers are soft and the grass is lush, while the mountains roll behind them. Snow covered peaks give way to the spring streams, and the green dress the woman wears is covered in white lilies. 

The woman opens her mouth, and speaks. “Wake up,” She says, but Genevieve nods her head no. She can’t respond, but she never wants to leave. She’s home. “Wake up.” She says again. 

Genevieve’s voice returns to her. “Mother,” she whispers, reaching out to the woman in front of her. “I don’t want to wake up.” 

Her mother opens her mouth once more, but the voice that comes out is no longer hers. 

“WAKE!” The voice bellows. It’s Tairn. 

But why is he here? Genevieve looks at her hands, and she knows that she is young. Far too young to even know about the possibility of her bonding a dragon. But then her hands are red, covered in blood, and the voice screams out once more. 

“Wake before you die!” The mountains rumble, and suddenly her mother’s green dress is covered in blood. “Now!”

Her eyes fly open, and she gasps as the last remnants of the dream disintegrates. She’s not in a field of flowers, she’s in her room in-

“Move!” Tairn bellows, and Genevieve shoots out of bed, her hand stealing the dagger from under her pillow as she moves. 

“Fuck! She’s awake!” Moonlight reflects over a sword that is now impaled into the bed where Genevieve once lay. She stumbles, her movements still clouded by sleep. As her knees hit the floor, she unsheathes another dagger from under her mattress. 

She scans the room from her point on the floor, blowing the now grown out hair from her eyes. Her eyes meet the eyes of the unbounded first-year, but he’s not the only one. There are seven cadets in her room. There are four men, three women. 

The door slams behind a girl as she runs out of the room. It clicks in Genevieve’s mind, she’s the one who opened the door. 

The rest are all armed, all determined to kill an unkillable rider. Her hand tightens around the hilt of her daggers and her heart rate skyrockets. 

“This was a stupid mistake,” Genevieve says, her eyes glistening with the thrill of the kill. “Guess it won’t do much good to ask you to leave nicely?” 

“Get away from the wall! Don’t let them trap you!” Tairn’s echoing, commanding voice resonates within her. She moves, but there isn’t much room for her to move. 

“Damn it! I told you she was fast!” Oren hisses from the other side of the room, blocking Genevieve’s exit. 

“Violet should have killed you during Threshing,” Genevieve barks, her voice loud and commanding. She knows that if her voice is loud enough, someone will hear, Liam is just across—

A woman lunges for her, and she dodges, sliding along the icy pane of her window. The window!

“It’s too high. You’ll fall to the ravine and I cannot get there fast enough!” 

“No window. Got it.” Another woman throws her knife, rending the fabric of Genevieve’s nightshirt sleazes as it lodges in her armoire, but she misses her actual flesh. She spins, ripping the rest of the sleeve off, lunging her own hands towards the girl. 

  The hit lands, her dagger plunges down into the torso of the girl, and a surge of adrenaline. 

The girl collapses to the floor, her weight trapping Genevieve, and her body feels as if she was dead. Scrambling out from under her, Genevieve’s breathing is ragged. 

“Fuck! You have to go for her throat!” Oren shouts, registering the sudden death of his companion. “I’ll do it myself.” 

“She’s dead,” Tairn confirms, and another surge of adrenaline flies through Genevieve. It feels as if lightning was dancing across her skin, burning her, boiling her blood. Genevieve is panicked, but she moves her dagger to fend off an attack to her left, slicing down a forearm, and then another to the right, stabbing into a man’s thigh. 

“Use your brain!” Tairn bellows, and she lands an awfully hard dagger to a man’s gut. He collapses down to the floor as well, his sword tumbling after him. But now she’s cornered between the desk and the armoire. There are too many of them. They all rush in at once. 

In her state of overwhelming confusion, the daggers are snatched out of her hand with appalling ease, and her heart seizes as Oren grips her throat. Another attacker is pinning her hands behind her with a torn blanket. She attempts to sweep for his knees, but her lifts her off the ground and she never makes contact. She’s too far away for anything. 

“No. No. No.” She repeats over and over in her head, digging her nails into her palms, puncturing her skin as she attempts to claw free. His grip never eases as he crushes her throat. Air. There’s no air. 

“He’s almost there!” Tairn promises, panic lacing his tone. 

He who? Genevieve tries to respond, but she can’t breath, can’t think. 

“Finish her!” The one who’s hands pin Genevieve’s hands behind her back yells. “He’ll only respect us if we finish her!”

They’re after Tairn. 

His roar of rage fills Genevieve’s head as Oren lowers her body, flipping her around as he curls his arm so her back is against his chest. She can feel her feet back on the ground, but her vision is dark, her lungs fighting for oxygen that isn’t there. 

The greedy eyes of a bleeding first year stare back into Genevieve’s blank face. “Do it!” She demands. 

“You’re dragon is mine,” Oren hisses in her ear, and his hands fall away, replaced by a blade. 

Air rushes into her lungs as cold metal caresses her throat, the oxygen flooding her blood and clearing her head just enough for her to know that this is the end. She’s going to die. From one heartbeat to what will probably be her last, an overwhelming feeling of 

sorrow seizes her chest. 

What about Violet? Does she graduate? And Rhiannon, Ridoc, and Sawyer? Do they survive too? And Xaden, does Xaden regret not kissing me once more? 

The knife tip touches her skin. 

Her bedroom door flies open, the wood splintering as it slams against the stone wall, but she doesn’t have a chance to turn to see who is standing there before a harsh yell pierces her vision. 

“Now run!” Tairn screams. Skin-prickling energy zings down her spine and through her arms, then rushes to her fingertips and toes. 

A man to her left lunges at her, sword in full motion, and she’s dagger-less. 

In a last resort, she snaps the blanket that binds her hands, and holds them out, hoping to stop him in his tracks, but she doesn’t. Her hands make contact with him, and immediately he freezes, falling to the floor. 

“Go!” Tairn demands. 

She blinks at the man who has seemingly died from her touch. He isn’t breathing, isn’t moving. He’s dead. 

And before another one can take a hit on her, Genevieve darts to the door, nearly slamming full force into Xaden, who fills the doorway like some kind of dark, avenging angel, the messenger of the queen of gods. 

He’s fully dressed, his face a mask of veritable rage as shadows curl from the walls on either side of him. Relief immediately floods Genevieve’s mind, she feels so relieved that she could cry. 

“It’s about damned time,” Xaden’s gaze snaps to Genevieve, his onyx eyes flaring in shock and relief for a millisecond before he strides forwards, his shadows streaming before him as he stands at her side. He snaps his fingers, and the mage light illuminates the room around them. 

“You’re all fucking dead.” His voice is eerily calm and all the scarier for it. 

Every head in the room turns. 

“Riorson!” Oren’s dagger clatters to the floor. 

“You think surrendering will save you?” Xaden’s lethally soft tone sends goosebumps up her arms. “It is against our code to attack another rider in their sleep.”

”But you know he should have never bonded her!” Oren says, putting his hands up, his palms facing them. “You of all people have reason to want her dead!”

“Dragons don’t make mistakes.” Xaden’s shadows grab every assailant but Oren by the throat, then constrict. They struggle, but it doesn’t matter. Their faces turn purple, the shadows holding tight as they sag to their knees, falling in an arc in front of her like lifeless puppets. 

Xaden prowls forward as though her has all the time in the world and holds out his palm as yet another tendril of darkness lifts Quinn’s dagger out from under the first girls’ body. 

“Let me explain.” Oren eyes the dagger, and his hands tremble. 

“I’ve heard everything I need to hear.” Xaden’s fingers curl around the hilt of the dagger. “You’re lucky she only had two daggers on hand, or you would already be dead. But I’m here to kill you now.” He slashes forward so quickly that Genevieve barely catches the moves, and Oren’s throat opens in a horizontal line, blood streaming down his neck and chest in a torrent. 

He grabs for this throat, but it’s useless. He bleeds out in seconds, crumpling to the floor. A crimson puddle grows around him. 

“Damn, Xaden.” Garrick walks in, sheathing his sword as his gaze rakes over the room. “Morning Genevieve,” He nods. “No time for questioning?” His gaze sweeps over Genevieve, cataloging her injuries, catching on her throat. 

“No need for it,” Xaden counters as Bodhi enters, saying the same greeting, doing the same quick assessment that Garrick had. 

“Let me guess,” Bodhi says, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re on cleanup?” 

“Call for help if you need it,” Xaden answers with a nod, and suddenly, Genevieve is swept out of the room as she follows Xaden to his quarters silently. 

——————————————————————

Sitting on the bed in the center of his room, Genevieve rests her head in her hands, her breaths shallow as if she was still being choked. 

I’m alive. I’m alive. I’m alive. 

“Yes. You’re alive.” Xaden steps closer to her as he sits next to her. Her entire body shakes like a leaf as the adrenaline leaves her system, leaving her tired and hurting. 

“I didn’t realize I said that out loud,” She says, her tone an attempt at joking.

A few seconds pass in silence, just the sound of her breaths coming in short wheezes that Xaden can only describe as painful resonating in the walls of Xaden’s dorm. She shoves herself off of the bed quickly, muttering a quick apology as she nearly launches herself onto the trash can. 

She throws up once, then dry heaves for a moment. Xaden immediately is next to her, his hand warm on her back. 

“It’s just the shock,” he says, his hands soft on her back. “Are you hurt?” His words are clipped, but they’re gentle, and the pain in her body ebbs forward at the reminder that it's there. Every breath feels like she’s shoving broken glass into her lungs, but she doesn’t say anything. 

“I’m still angry at you.” She whispered, her voice hoarse and dry after throwing up. 

“Come on, Gen,” Xaden mutters, lifting her up off the floor next to the trash can and putting her gently onto the floor. “Tell me where you’re hurt.” 

The blood of the three cadets Genevieve has killed has dried underneath her finger nails, staining her hands red as she looks at them. Xaden killed three cadets, too, but he doesn’t look nearly as shaken as she does. Quinn’s dagger glitters on the table next to the door, but its blade is covered with blood, accentuating the ruby in the hilt. 

Genevieve can barely breath, her lungs burning with pain and fire. His fingers are warm under her chin as he tilts her head up so she’s looking at him, instead of her blood-crusted hands. “You’re breathing like crap, so I’m guessing it has to do with your ribs?” He says, his voice comforting as a hint of panic swirled behind his eyes. 

“I’m fine,” She lies. 

His focus snaps back to her eyes, his gaze no longer soft. 

“Don’t lie to me,” He says it with such ferocity, bit out through gritted teeth, that she can’t help but nod. 

“That’s rich coming from you,” She snaps, but her voice is too soft to have any real bite, and for some reason Xaden knows that Genevieve doesn’t mean it. Not right now, at least. Xaden’s eyes are trained onto hers, begging to know what’s wrong. “It hurts,” she finally admits, her voice so quiet he can barely hear her talk. 

“Let me see.” And she nods, so he pulls her nightshirt over her head, gently pulling it off so as not to shake whatever is hurting more than it already is. Their eyes meet, and a warmth flutters through her stomach. But the moment is gone as quickly as it came, and inspecting her right side, fingers gently stroke over the bruising on her ribs from when she clattered to the floor. 

“You have one hell of a bruise, but I don’t think they’re broken.”

“Thanks,” she murmurs, her voice still quiet. 

“Come on, let’s go,” He says, and all of a sudden, when Genevieve turns around to grab her boots, he kneels on the floor in front of her, boots in hand. “I need to take you to the flight field.” 

“Why?” She asks, and Xaden can’t help but feel like it’s almost as if she was a child again. Her voice is soft and innocent like a young girl who hasn’t seen anything, but he knows that when she wakes up tomorrow morning, refreshed and strong for the day, she’ll be back to normal. She’ll be back to ignoring him and casting him glares whenever he tries to give her pointers. 

“You and I need answers,” He says, finishing up her boots before handing her the cloak he must have grabbed when ushering her out of her crime scene of a room. “That was one hell of a signet if that's what that was.” 

Oh right, she can feel herself remember what she had just blocked out. The whole touching people and then they die thing. 

“And we have to ask Tairn what the hell just happened,” Xaden’s jaw flexes. “And I’m not just talking about the attacks. How the hell did they get past your locks.” 

Genevieve stumbled, her legs weak as she tried to fall into step beside Xaden. His arm snaked around her waist to keep her steady. 

“I don’t lock my door,” She said, her voice soft but the words rang clear. 

“Sorry?” Xaden says, his tone indicating that he wants her to try again. To say something else. Anything else. “You don’t lock your doors?”

”I don’t lock my door.” She repeated, not changing. “It scares me. I don’t like being behind locked doors.” 

“You know it locks from the inside, though,” Xaden says, dragging her down one confusing hallway after the next. She’s lost all sense of direction as mage lights flicker on and off above her. “You’re not going to be locked in.” 

Genevieve’s breath hitched as she tried to keep up with Xaden’s long strides. Every step jarred the ache in her ribs, but she bit her lip, refusing to let him see just how much it hurt. She wasn’t fragile. She had survived worse—much worse.

”I know,” she whispered, her voice sounding distant, like it was floating from someone else. “But it’s not the same. The feeling is the same.” 

Xaden’s brows furrowed as they walked. His face resembles concern and confusion. His hand still anchored at her waist tightened slightly, keeping her upright.“What do you mean?” 

Genevieve inhaled shakily, avoiding his gaze. Her mind raced, flashing back to the darkness, the dungeon, the cold stone walls that seemed to press in on her from all sides. The memory of Lilith’s mocking voice, the rattle of chains as she was left alone in the pitch-black cell with nothing but the sound of her own ragged breathing, clawed at her insides. Locked doors were cages. Locked doors were suffocating. 

She cleared her throat, willing herself to focus on the present. “I don’t like the idea that someone can lock me in, even if I’m the one doing the locking.” 

His grip on her waist loosened as the words sunk in, understanding flickering in his dark eyes. He took a breath, as if searching for the right words. “You’re not there anymore, Gen. No one’s locking you in.” His voice was quieter now, and it had an edge of softness she hadn’t expected from him. 

For a brief second, she almost believed him. Almost. But the remnants of fear still clung to her chest, suffocating her almost as much as her buried ribs. The weight of it all—the kills, the literal blood on her hands, the secrets—was too much. She couldn’t afford to feel safe. Not yet. 

She quickly broke her eye contact with Xaden, moving away from him, “I know.” She said, and her voice was strong. “Let’s just go to the flight field now.” 

The ground shifts beneath her feet as though it’s rocking, but she knows better. It’s her head, the rust of the pain and the stress, and now the reminder that this happened because she was too weak to even lock her doors. Her breath catches, and her steps wobble. 

Xaden moves next to her again, steadying her. They just continue down the pathway in a silence she can’t find herself to try and break. He just stands next to her as they walk down the cold stone corridor. 

“Why are you taking me to the flight field?” She asks again, her voice now clearer than before. “Because I can talk to Tairn whenever I want to, so unless you want to talk to him, there’s no reason for this.” 

Xaden stayed quiet, but his eyes watched her sharply. 

“You’re insane,” Genevieve said, her voice dropping to a tired murmur. “I can’t believe you want to talk to my dragon.” Her words were a mix of frustration and disbelief, but there was something else beneath it—something softer. Maybe even relief. 

Xaden didn’t respond, just continuing to take her farther and farther down the hall and then to a stonewall end of the tunnel. A few hand gestures and then another click sounds before he pushes open the door. They step into the crisp, freezingly cold November air. 

“What the hell,” she whispers. The door is built into a stack of boulders on the eastern side of the field. 

“It’s camouflaged.” Xaden waves a hand and the door closes, blending into the rocks as if it’s a part of it. “When you get better at lesser magic, I’ll teach you how to use this door as well.”

As they walk towards the center of the field, the grass grows behind her every step. It turns a little greener as she moves closer, and browns as she leaves, almost as if she was breathing life into the winter stricken earth with every step. Flowers bloom behind her movements, red poppies and white lilies spring across the field, illustrating her path. 

But Xaden and her don’t notice. They’re just focused on her hands, on the death that sprang from them. 

There’s a sound that she now recognizes as the steady beat of wings, and she looks up to see two dragons block out the stars as they descend. The earth shudders as they land in front of them. 

“I’m guessing the wingleader wants a word?” Tairn steps forward and Sgaeyl follows, her wings tucked in tight, her golden eyes narrowing in on Genevieve. 

“Yes, I want a word. What the hell kind of powers are you channeling to her?” Xaden demands, staring up at Tairn like he isn’t… Tairn. 

Yep. Ballsy. Every muscle in her body locks, sure that Tairn is bound to torch Xaden for impudence. 

“None of your business what I choose or do not choose to channel towards my rider,” Tairn answers with a growl. 

This is going well. 

“He says—” She starts. 

“I heard him,” Xaden counters, not sparing Genevieve a glance. 

“You what?” Her eyebrows raise so fast they nearly hit her hairline. Dragons only talk to their riders. That’s what Genevieve was taught. Despite whatever mate bond they have going on, Tairn should only talk to her. 

“It’s absolutely my business when you expect me to protect her,” Xaden retorts, his voice rising. 

“I got the message to you just fine, human.” Tairn’s head swivels in the snakelike motion that puts Genevieve on high alert. He’s more than agitated. 

“And I barely made it.” The words come out clipped through clenched teeth. “She would have been dead if I’d been thirty seconds later.”

“Seems like you had thirty seconds gifted to you.” Tairn’s chest rumbles with a growl. 

“And I’d like to know what the fuck happened in there!”

Genevieve inhales sharply. 

“I may hate him right now, but you said you wouldn’t flame him,” Genevieve reminds him, her words begging. “And he just saved me.” 

Tairn grumbles in response. 

“We need to know what happened in that room.” Xaden’s dark gaze cuts through Genevieve like a knife for a millisecond before he glares back at Tairn. 

“Don’t dare to try and read my rider or I, human, or you’ll regret it.” Tairn’s mouth opens, his tongue curling in a motion Genevieve knows well. She steps between the two, her gaze narrowing. 

What in Malek’s name does that mean?

“He’s just a little freaked out. Don’t scorch him.” 

“At least we agree on something.” A feminine voice sounds through Genevieve’s head. 

Sgaeyl. 

In awe, she blinks up at the navy blue dagger tail as Xaden moves to Genevieve’s side. 

“She talked to me.” 

“I know. I heard.” He folds his arms across his chest. For a moment he understood her second of frustration because that was his dragon, his beautiful blue dragon. “It’s because they’re mates. It’s the same reason you can feel my emotions. The same reason I’m chained to you.” 

“Don’t make it sound so pleasant.” She quips, her eyes never leaving Sgaeyl. 

“Gen, don’t do this right now,” he turns to face her. “But you and I are exactly that, Gen. We’re chained. Tethered. You die, I die, so I damn well deserve to know how one second that cadet was alive and the next he was on the floor dead as if his life was taken from him. Is that the signet power you’ve manifested with Tairn? Come clean. Now.” His eyes bore into hers as she finally moved from Sgaeyl. 

“I don’t know what happened,” She answered honestly. 

Xaden’s frustration simmers, his gaze sharp as he watches her, watches the flowers that seemed to have spring from the frost coated ground around her, the vines that snake up her legs. “You’re telling me you don’t know how you killed someone just by touching them?” 

Genevieve shifts uncomfortably under the weight of his stare, her ribs aching with every breath. She truly didn’t know how to explain it. One moment she was fighting for her life, her body reacting on instinct—then there was a hold of energy, like something had snapped within her, and everything had unraveled. The cadet had fallen at her feet, eyes wide and unseeing. 

“I didn’t mean to,” she murmurs, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her mind replays the scene-the surge of power, the warmth in her hands, the sudden absence of life. It hadn’t felt like her. It had felt other. A force she had no control over. 

Xaden grits his teeth, but before he can respond, Tairn lets out a low rumble that reverberates through the ground beneath their feet. The dragon’s golden eyes flicker between the two of them before settling on Genevieve. 

“It was your signet,” Tairn’s voice echoes in her mind, deep and resonant. “You are a life-weaver, Genevieve.” 

Her breath catches, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the sound of his words. Life-weaver? She had heard of rare signets that could manipulate the life force of others, but they were legends—whispers passed down by riders who had never known anyone strong enough to possess such power. 

Xaden’s hand reached out to her, and panic immediately flashed through her eyes. She took a step back, shaking her head. 

“No, no, you can’t touch me,” She says, her voice rising in panic and fear. “I don’t know what will- I didn’t mean to—” Her words falter as her gaze drops to her hands, still stained with the blood of the cadet. The memory of that fleeting connection with his life—how it had pulsed and then slipped away like sand through her fingers—burns fresh in her mind. She had taken it, without even realizing it. 

Sgaeyl shifts, her broad wingspan stretching, casting a shadow over the group as her voice cuts in, smoother and more refined than Tairn’s. “Your power, Genevieve, is not just in taking life. You can give it as well.” 

Her brows furrows in confusion, her heart pounding. Give life? The concept seems too foreign, too overwhelming. she had always seen herself as someone who had survived by taking—taking control, taking lives, taking what was necessary to keep herself from falling apart. The idea of giving, of restoring life, feels impossible. 

“How… how do you know that?” She asks, her voice small. 

Sgaeyl’s eyes gleam as she tilts her head, her voice patient but firm. “It is in your nature, Genevieve. You want nothing more to live, and signets are manifestations of a rider's truest desires. In time, you will learn to control it.”

Xaden is still beside her, his expression unreadable as he watches the exchange between Genevieve and his dragon. He seems torn between awe and concern, his dark eyes glancing between Tairn and Sgaeyl before settling on Genevieve once again. 

“And what happens if she doesn’t?” Xaden asks, his voice low. There’s a tension in his tone, a hint of fear that Genevieve hasn’t heard before.

Sgaeyl’s gaze sharpens, her voice no longer gentle. “If she cannot master her power, the consequences will be devastating. For her and those around her.” 

A chill runs down Genevieve’s spine. She can feel the weight of the warning in Sgaeyl’s words, the unspoken danger lurking beneath the surface of her newfound abilities. If she couldn’t control this power—this ability to manipulate life and death—then every touch, every moment of weakness could mean someone else’s end. The thought makes her stomach twist. 

“How do I control it?” She says, and she hopes her voice hasn’t cracked to give away the vulnerability she’s trying so hard to suppress. “How do I make sure I don’t hurt anyone else?” 

Tairn steps forward, his massive form towering over her as he speaks. “You will learn, Genevieve. But it will not be easy. This power comes at a cost—every life taken, every life restored, will demand something from you.” 

Xaden’s eyes darken at Tairn’s words, his protective instincts flaring. “What kind of cost?”

Tairn’s tail flicks, his eyes narrowing on Xaden before turning back to Genevieve. “That is for her to discover. The balance between life and death is delicate, and every choice will weigh on her soul.” 

Genevieve swallows hard, her mind racing. She wants to scream, to push the dragons and Xaden away, to shut out the overwhelming reality that her signet might be something far darker and more dangerous than she ever imagined. But there’s no escaping it now. This power is a part of her, whether she likes it or not. 

Xaden steps closer, his gaze softening as he looks down at her. “You don’t have to face this alone,” he says quietly. “Whatever happens… we’ll figure it out.” 

She looks up at him, her chest tight with emotion. The weight of what she has done, of what she might do in the future, threatens to crush her. But in his eyes, she sees something else—trust, perhaps, or maybe just a flicker of hope. Something she hasn’t allowed herself to feel in a long time. 

“I’m not ready,” she whispers, her voice trembling. 

“You don’t have to be,” Xaden replies softly. His hand reaches for hers, and when his fingers lace through hers, she feels a warmth—life, not death—flow between them. But she immediately retracted hers, and watched as a flash of hurt echoed over his eyes. “We’ll take this one step at a time.” 

Tairn and Sgaeyl watched silently as the two stood there, connected by the fragile thread of shared understanding. Neither dragon speaks, but Genevieve can feel their presence, a steady and unwavering reminder that her journey has only just begun. She isn’t alone, not anymore. 

———————————————

The next morning, Liam Mairi was added to Genevieve’s squad, his own squad being dissolved as a result of him being one of three left. Amber Mavis was executed by Tairn’s fire for organizing an attack on a sleeping cadet, and Genevieve found herself face to face with the horrified eyes of her own squad mates. 

“So you killed them?” Sawyer asks, trying to get his facts straight. “With no weapons? Just your hands?”

“No,” Genevieve corrected. “I only killed one of them with my signet. The other two I stabbed. If you're going to look at me like I’m a monster, at least get your head out of the clouds and be realistic.” 

Sawyer glanced up and down, his eyes traveling from the unnaturally lush grass at her feet to her white hair. “What even is your signet? And what happened last night?” He asked again. 

“My signet is Life Weaving,” she said again. “Don’t ask me what it means, I have a day until Professor Carr starts training and then I learn what Life Weaving really is. And for the last time, I was attacked in my sleep by Oren and Amber Mavis and five other cadets. Two of them I murdered with a dagger and one of them I murdered just by touching him.” Her tone was final, and left no room for argument. “Now can you stop asking me? And I don’t like the face you’re making!”

“Gods, Genevieve,” Ridoc said, his voice low with a mix of admiration and fear. “You show up on the craziest dragon and now manifest the craziest signet?”

Genevieve stared at Ridoc, her eyes cold and calculating. His tone was laced with a sense of awe and apprehension, which only served to amplify her discomfort. She could sense the shift in the atmosphere around her squad—whispers and sideways glances punctuated the air as news of her signet traveled from person to person. They were both intrigued and frightened, and Genevieve didn’t need to be an inntinnsic to understand why. 

“Don’t get too caught up in the spectacle,” Genevieve said, her voice cutting through the murmur of the squad. “It’s not a show. It’s survival.” She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She could feel the vines growing up from her feet, twisting and winding up her legs and around her. The weight of her own abilities and the consequences of her decision were heavy on her shoulders, almost as heavily as Xaden’s gaze. 

Liam, who had been silent until now, still getting used to the squad, getting acquainted with the new people, nodded slowly. 

“You did what you had to do,” He says, and a flower blooms in the palm of her hand accidentally. “You didn’t want to kill them but you had to. And you’re alive now, isn’t that what matters?” 

“Exactly. I did what I had to do,” She shot a glare at Sawyer. “Now stop looking at me like that!”

“Sorry! Sorry!” He says, putting his hands up in mock defense. “I just didn’t know everytime I high-fived you I was risking my life.” His voice carries a tone of joking play. 

Genevieve’s eyes narrowed at Sawyer’s attempt at humor, the flicker of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth despite herself. The tension in the air eased slightly, though the discomfort lingered beneath the surface. 

Liam’s thoughtful observation had brought a moment of clarity amidst the chaos, and Genevieve could see how the squad was beginning to adjust to the new dynamics. The lush grass beneath her feet seemed to pulse with the lingering energy of her confrontation from the night before, a reminder of both her power and her peril. 

Sawyer cleared his throat, his playful facade faltering as he looked around at the other squad members, their expressions a mix of curiosity and unease. “Alright, alright. I get it. No more questions about the ‘craziest signet.’”

Ridoc, still with a glint of respect in his eyes, stepped forward. “We should focus on what’s ahead. We’ve got new training sessions starting soon, and we need to make sure we’re all on the same page. We go to the archives tomorrow, and then Genevieve and Sawyer start in Professor Carr’s class, so hopefully we can get some information on their signets.” 

The group nodded, everyone in agreement with the plan. 

“Alright team,” Rhiannon continued, stepping forward with her usual blend of authority and empathy. “Let’s put the past behind us and focus on the present. We need to be prepared for what’s coming. Signet training with Carr is going to beat Genevieve and Sawyer’s asses, so let’s get to it!”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, the squad was united in their resolve. The previous night’s chaos had shaken them, but now there was a shared purpose in their eyes. Genevieve, though still reeling from the events, felt a flicker of something she hadn’t fully acknowledged—hope. It was a small, fragile thing, but it was there, nestled among the cracks of her hardened exterior. 

The squad’s camaraderie was palpable, a shared commitment to overcoming their trials together. the tension in the air began to dissipate, replaced by a cautious optimism. The lush grass around Genevieve continued to grow, a visual testament to her power and the new path she was forging. 

As they began to disperse, preparing for the day ahead, Genevieve felt her head clear for the first time since the attack.

Life really does go on after signet manifestation. 

——

Violet sat across from Genevieve at a secluded table in the archives, scribes that Violet knew, bustled around them, but Genevieve’s eyes were trained on the single book in between them. 

“I searched the entire archives and I could only find one thing on Life Weaving,” Violet says, “and it's from a guy who lived 400 years ago.”

“Great,” Genevieve groaned. The past few days had been hell for her, with everyone finding out what her signet is. From her squad, it was just her and Sawyer so far that had manifested their signets, and Professor Carr was of no help in figuring out what Life Weaving really meant, so she was on her own. Not to mention, she had been practically ignoring Xaden since October, now it was mid November, and the only time she had talked to him was when he came to save her. “Let me guess, it’s in some obscure language that only you or the scribes know, so I can’t even figure it out for myself.” 

“Let me finish.”Violet said, her voice snapping. “His name was Korrin Lysander, and according to this he’s the only other known Life Weaver, ever. Even then it was considered a rare and mythical power, even of the most skilled of riders.” Violet’s fingers gently brush over the worn pages, revealing a faded illustration of a man with pale eyes and pale hair, hand glowing with ethereal light as vines twisted behind him. “It’s said that Life Weavers can manipulate the very essence of life itself—both creating and destroying.” 

Genevieve leans in closer, her eyes scanning the text as Violet continues. “Lysander’s notes are vague at best. He describes it as a power tied to the rider’s deepest desires and emotions. He mentions something about ‘balancing the scales’ of life and death, but it’s mostly cryptic.” 

Liam appears from behind a bookshelf, pulling up a chair and sitting right next to Violet. Genevieve casts a sideways glance at how close the two of them are, but ultimately she ignores it, her fingers still trembling slightly as she turns the pages. The weight of the power she’s discovered presses heavily on her, each turn of the page feeling like a step deeper into the dark, uncertain path. 

“So this Life Weaving thing… it’s not just about killing, it’s about giving life?” Liam asks, snaking an arm around Violet. “And sorry, I searched all the old Tyrrish texts, but nothing. Sawyer and Ridoc are in the Luceran section, but no luck there either.” 

“Exactly,” Violet replies. “It seems like Lysander could heal as well as harm, but the specifics are unclear. Seems like his main mode of fighting was through rapidly growing vines and using them as whips or ropes. He also writes about the cost—how each act of weaving could take a toll on the rider’s own life force.” 

Genevieve’s brow furrowed as she absorbed the information, her mind racing with the implications. The idea that every time she used her signet, it could drain her, chip away at her own life, sent a chill down her spine. The thought of losing herself bit by bit, becoming weaker each time she saved someone else, felt like another chain around her neck. 

“So, I could heal people, but it’d drain me in the process?” Genevieve’s voice was quieter than she intended, her fingers tracing the faded ink of the ancient pages. She already carried the weight of her survival, the guilt of who she’d had to become to stay alive. But not, the possibility that her power could take even more from her—strip away her life—was overwhelming. 

Violet glanced at her, her expression more sympathetic than usual. “It seems that way. Lysander’s writings are frustratingly vague, but I had Jesenia help me, and we found that there’s enough here to suggest that in order to be able to take you need to give too, and giving is easier than taking. It does suggest that the power isn’t infinite though, the more you use it, the more it could cost. It’s all about balance—creating life, taking life, it all seems to go hand in hand.”

Genevieve swallowed hard, leaning back in her chair. The tension between her and Xaden over the past few weeks had been like a boulder pressing on her chest, and now, with this new layer of uncertainty, she felt even more isolated. It had been bad enough when her squad found out about her signet, the fear and awe in their eyes as she realized what she was capable of. But now, learning that the very thing that had saved her life in that brutal moment could also lead to her undoing…

“How in Malek’s name am I supposed to balance something like that?” Genevieve muttered, running a hand through her dark hair. “What if I can’t control it?”

Violet doesn’t respond immediately, instead, flipping another page and scanning the text. “You’re definitely not the first person to feel that way,” she finally said. “Lysander writes about the early days of his power, when he was terrified of using it, afraid that he’d lose control. But he learned!”

Genevieve scoffed softly, her skepticism cutting through her fear. “That’s great in theory. But Lysander had time. I don’t.” 

Liam, still seated close to Violet, finally spoke up again. “That’s why we’re here, right? To figure this out before something happens. And you won’t be on your own. You’ve got us.” 

Genevieve glanced at him, her lips twitching with a hint of a smile. Liam’s loyalty was something she could always count on, even when everything else seemed uncertain. But the truth was, this was a path she’d have to walk largely alone. Life Weaving was rare, mythical even. No one, not even her friends, could truly understand what it felt like to have this burden. 

Except Xaden. Shadow wielding was almost as rare as Life Weaving. He would know. 

“Yeah,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with gratitude and exhaustion. “I know.” 

But the unease lingered, heavy and suffocating. The memory of that night—of the cadets lying lifeless at her feet, of the vines she hadn’t even realized she’d summoned—flashed in her mind, and a part of her wondered how much of her life had already been taken. 

“What now?” Liam asked, breaking the silence. “Do we keep searching? I could go back and run through the Tyrrish section again, just to see if anything is stashed away?” 

Violet shook her head. “There’s no point. We’ve combed the archives top to bottom. If there’s anything more on Life Weaving, it’s buried so deep no one’s found it in centuries.” 

“Maybe she could practice on Ridoc?” Liam proposed, his voice light, as usual. “Kill him quickly and then revive him. He’d never know the difference.” 

“Be quiet!” Violet said, lightly hitting him on the arm. 

Genevieve’s hands tightened into fists on her lap. She could feel her chest tightening, her breaths shallow. Her instincts were screaming for action, for something to fight against, but there was no enemy in sight—just this invisible force tying her to a power she didn’t understand. 

“I need time,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I need to figure this out before it kills me or one of you.” She stood abruptly, pushing back the chair and grabbing the book, clutching it tightly as if it held the key to her survival. 

Violet stood as well, placing a hand on Genevieve’s arm. “It won’t-”

“Don’t touch me!” Genevieve said loudly, earning a harsh shush from one of the scribes nearby. Violet immediately retracted her hand, mumbling a quick sorry. 

“You don’t have to do this alone, Genevieve. We’ll figure it out together. Xaden will—”

”Don’t,” Genevieve cut her off again, her voice sharp. “Xaden and I… we’re not..” She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. The weight of their last encounter still hung heavily between them, unresolved and festering. She couldn’t think about him now, not when she didn’t know how to even deal with herself. 

Violet hesitated but nodded. “Just… don’t shut him out forever. He cares more than he lets on. And he’s literally in your head, all day every day, you can’t avoid him.”

Genevieve didn’t reply, her focus already shifting to the book in her hands. she needed answers—needed to understand what she had become. The path ahead was dark, but it was hers to walk, even if it meant risking everything in the process. 

————————————————

Hello all! I’m back a day early with this chapter, just because all of a sudden I’m getting a lot of love on this work, and I want to keep you all happy (make you all watch Genevieve slowly descend into a self-dedicating madness).

Either way, I’m going to update again on Wednesday this week with Chapter 12, and then Chapter 13 next Saturday or Sunday, but I want to know- I wrote chapter 13 with a little smut (😬) and it’s my first attempt ever so It sucks, do you still want me to post that?If no one says no I’ll post it with a warning LMAO.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed, and what do you think of her signet? I spent so much time thinking about it, and it’s definitely very much based off of the fates from Greek mythology. Please like and leave a comment on what you thought! Thank you~

[akookminsupporter]

ARE YOU SURE?!: MY THOUGHTS ON THE EIGHTH EPISODE AND THE SHOW IN GENERAL

I know I might be sounding a bit repetitive, but I seriously can’t believe AYS is over. When it was announced and we saw it would last for weeks, it felt like such a crazy long time, but now it seems way too short. It’s just not fair! I want more!

The last episode was the perfect depiction of that final day of your holiday—one you don’t want to end for a million reasons. For Jimin and Jungkook, that last day was their last ‘Freedom Day’ (dramatic, I know!), so it makes sense that it felt a bit melancholic.

I have no doubt that Jimin and Jungkook are just like they were in AYS in their private lives. Even with cameras around, they felt more natural, more themselves. AYS didn’t feel like a show made for us; it felt like they were entertaining themselves and just decided to share it with us.

I loved the last episode because, as I’ve said non-stop these past weeks, I adore how relaxed it was. The slow pace of everything they did, the lovely domesticity—it’s honestly the main reason I love AYS so much. In this last episode, they seemed more laid-back, and Jimin appeared a bit more melancholic, which is totally understandable. I loved that they got to watch the first episode of the show and laughed as much as we did watching them have fun together.

They really tried all sorts of food on the show, and honestly, I hope they paid for it all with the agency's card, haha!

Jimin and Jungkook are incredibly similar in so many ways, yet also different—they’re uniquely the same if that makes sense. They get each other’s jokes, meme references, video clips, and songs. They understand each other's looks and unspoken words; it’s amazing to see. AYS showed us why they never get bored of each other and why they often say they spend hours talking. While others take a break or rest, they’re off playing, chatting, and laughing together. That’s why AYS didn’t feel forced or like just another job for them. It explains why they obviously enjoyed making the show and why they decided to keep filming after they wrapped in the US, even though that wasn’t the original plan. It also explains their comments about wanting to do something similar in the future—12 more seasons, according to Jungkook!

AYS didn’t confirm that they’re a couple or that they’ve been married for 40 years with 30 kids, but it definitely reaffirmed just how close Jimin and Jungkook are. It showcased how different their dynamic is compared to their relationships with other members, especially when Tae was around. If there’s one thing that should be clear after this, it’s that. The fact that they chose to enlist together should be the biggest confirmation of all, but I know for many, that’s still not enough.

AYS was perfect in every sense, from start to finish. I would’ve loved for them to talk a bit more about their decision to enlist together and even about making the show, but then again, it’s Jimin and Jungkook, and there are things they’ll never discuss. It’s frustrating, understandable, and a bit funny all at once.

I’m really going to miss waiting every Thursday for a new episode. I’m going to miss seeing all the different reactions to the same clips on my timeline. I’ll miss the comments on everything new they did and the joy of discovering another layer of Jimin and Jungkook’s relationship. But most of all, I’m going to miss Jimin and Jungkook. I reckon unless they’ve got more things planned, we won’t see them until June 2025. Sure, there are the behind-the-scenes bits and the concert DVD from Seoul, but…

The last clip we saw in the episode, the day they enlisted in the army, was a bit of a shock, and I felt it was a bit cruel of the editors to do that, haha! But at the same time, it was a realistic way to end the show because that was the conclusion of it all, right? The final destination for Jimin and Jungkook. The lovely thing is, they made that journey together, and even after that ending, they’re still together.

I can’t wait to see Jimin and Jungkook in 2025. I’m so curious to see how their dynamic changes after military service. I feel like if they were unbearable together before, they’ll be even more so after!

All I can say is thank you. Thank you, Jimin and Jungkook, for such a beautiful gift. AYS confirmed that seeing you happy makes me happy, and while that just highlights the parasocial relationship I have with you, I also know I’m in this for life.

I can’t wait for 2025!

Note: Here's my list of favourite episodes with links to the posts with each reaction and conclusion:

Second Episode

Sixth Episode

First Episode

Eighth Episode

Fourth Episode

Seventh Episode

Fifth Episode

Third Episode

[foreverlittlesoshi]

All Of Our Foolish Notions

noah sebastian x reader

content warnings: angst and cheating

word count - 1.7k

an ~ the beginning is heavily based off my personal life and something i've gone through recently so this was my way of letting go

The world felt like it was collapsing on you. A dream couldn’t have possibly led to this. no way. You couldn’t believe it. 

Maybe it was a little strange to go through someone’s phone over a dream but you couldn’t help it. The dream was too realistic and caused you to worry for a couple days before getting the bravery to check. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise because you had certain doubts about Sam and reading the messages just confirmed them.

I miss you, Kali

I miss you too, Sam.

How could he say that to her? Why would he say that to her? He always said she treated him so badly yet he’s putting in the effort to talk to her? Anger and betrayal ran hot through your veins but you couldn’t help but look further and sadly found more. Just what you wanted to see. An intimate video that was definitely not of you two and the date/timestamp was a couple months ago and just a day before your one year anniversary.

You quietly put his phone back down, carefully not to wake him up and just stared at him. It felt like a bigger slap in the face that he was sleeping so peacefully while you felt like your heart was being ripped apart. Choking back the sobs felt like pure hell but you didn’t want him to see you like this because it’s not like he would even care.

The energy to even stand up couldn’t process in your head so you crawled back to your side of the room and grabbed your phone, quietly crawling to the bathroom and locking the door. You only knew one person who could help you out in this situation and maybe it wasn’t the best to call another man but he was your best friend.

“Hey, are you okay? it’s 1 am.” His voice was too relaxing to hear though you felt bad because he sounded groggy.

“He’s been cheating on me. with his ex of all fuckin people, Noah.” Saying it felt like a bigger punch in the gut. 

“Hold on, what?” He said more clearly and wiping the tiredness from him.

“I-I had a dream the other night, i guess my subconscious trying to tell me something so i started to overthink but i didn’t ask because i didn’t want to start an argument and tonight i finally broke. I know i shouldn’t have but i went through his phone and saw-“ a painful sob left you, “he literally filmed them having sex just a day before our one year anniversary.” 

“I’m gonna fuckin kill -“ “No, please just help me get out of here. He’s not even awake. I just want to leave.” Begging him made you feel so small but you couldn’t help it. 

“I’ll be there soon.” 

“Thank you.”

-

When Noah arrived, it made you feel a little better though it still all felt like a big blur packing your things quickly, quietly and carefully to not wake up Sam. Maybe it was the power he had over you but you felt guilty, just leaving and not even leaving a message, note or anything. Just the key to his apartment on the coffee table and walking away from someone you spent a year of your life with. 

“This is stupid to ask but are you okay?” Noah asked as you tossed your bags into his car and you couldn’t help but chuckle weakly.

“I just feel really fuckin stupid. It doesn’t help this situation but i had already caught him in two lies about her before i found this out and i just made excuses for him. I thought the last time was the final straw but clearly not. The worst part is somehow i feel like i deserve this.” You confessed and could feel the anger rise again. 

“No, you fuckin don’t. Don’t ever say some stupid shit like that again. He’s an insecure stupid little prick who doesn’t even know that he just lost the best person ever.” Maybe he let his feelings out a bit but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stand the fact that you genuinely believed you deserved to get cheated on and treated like garbage.

“Let’s just go back to yours before i go back in there and punch him.” Saying as you headed to the passenger side.

Even while having your heart broken, you let your anger get the best of you and Noah couldn’t stop his heart from beating faster. He always thought it was cute.

-

The amount of crying you did exhausted you to the point you didn’t even feel Noah carrying you to his bed and tucking you in.

“Don’t leave me.” you mumbled to him.

“Just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable first.” He tells you as he crawls into the bed, you automatically cling onto him and let out a sigh of calmness. 

“I love you so much and thank you.” He shouldn’t have taken it too seriously but he couldn’t help it. It was killing him that you were going through this pain but he didn’t want to make it worse by confessing to you and messing with your mind/feelings more. 

“If only you knew.” You swore you heard him say but decided to not say anything and just fall asleep.

-

Getting back on your feet again wasn’t the hard part of getting over your last relationship, the hard part was realizing your feelings for Noah. You didn’t want to admit it though because you don’t want to make him feel like a rebound or taking advantage of him. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if he thought about himself that way.

Drinking wasn’t the right choice but you were so overwhelmed that you didn’t know what else to do and honestly, you didn’t mean to get too drunk either. You just wanted to stop thinking about everything so you could calm down though maybe going out with the whole group wasn’t helpful. 

“Are you ever going to confess to him?” Folio’s voice broke your thought process.

You didn’t want to answer him at first, instead downing another shot of tequila. 

“I’m just scared.”

He scoffed at your response, “Of what? It’s clear that he loves you.”

Noah’s words replayed in your head from that night, “If only you knew.” and the memory made the alcohol hit ten times harder. 

“I don’t want him to think of himself as a rebound. He’s too special to me. I love him but i don’t want to hurt him.” You could tell you were slurring your words but he still acknowledged what you were trying to say.

With the alcohol hitting hard, you couldn’t even tell if Folio said anything else. All you could think about was Noah and everything you two had been through. Seeing his hardships from a young age, letting him stay with you when you two were teenagers and your family treating him like their own, going to his local shows with his old band, the fallout, seeing him mature and grow while forming bad omens, his past flings, his breakdowns, his decision to cut his hair short after so many years and seeing bad omens blow up with just pretend and all the success they received. 

It hit you hard. You were in love with him. Maybe you always had been but just refused to accept it. You were there for him through everything and he was always there for you. Why didn’t he ever confess?  was the main question in your mind.

“Where is he?” you asked Folio.

“Outside with Jolly.” Once he told you, you tried to quickly stand up but stumbled. “Let me help you out.”

Folio helped you through the crowd, guiding you out the door and the cool air sobering you up just a tiny bit. 

“NOAH!” yelling his name immediately got his attention and he rushed over. 

“Are you okay? Did some-“ “She’s fine. Just drunk.” Folio warned him and Noah sighed with relief. You tried to hug him but you just fell into his chest bursting out into a giggling fit as he held onto you so you wouldn’t bust your ass on the ground. 

“I’ll take her home and I’ll text you guys later.” He said guiding you to his car, buckling you in and making sure you’re comfortable. The ride was quiet until you finally spoke up.

“Why haven’t you confessed to me yet?” 

He felt like his heart genuinely stopped for a moment. His throat dried up, his face became red and his stomach started hurting.

“I don’t want to have this conversation when you’re drunk.” his voice was stern which caused you to whine.

“I was just-“”I will not have this conversation when you’re drunk.” To be honest, he shocked you with how stern he was again and decided to drop it until you woke up the next morning.

-

The raging hungover headache woke you up though the blinding sun wasn’t helping it and trying to remember the night hurt your head more. 

“Here.” Noah said startling you while holding some ibuprofen and a glass of water. Quickly downing both and thanking him.

“Why didn’t you ever confess to me?” You ask him finally sober. Seeing him squirm from the question surprised you. Did Folio lie to you? 

“I was just scared of you rejecting me and leaving.” he confessed avoiding your eyes.

“Noah,” your heart was feeling like it was going to explode, “It may have taken me a lot longer than you to realize my feelings but i do love you and i always have.”

“Really?” His timid voice made your heart hurt. 

“Absolutely.” you reached for his hand, it felt so clammy yet still so soft and kissed his hand softly, “I love you Noah.”

“I’ve always loved you and i always will. I love you, more than you will ever know.” He felt relief after so many years of hiding this secret from you. “Can i kiss you?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, “Of course.”

Soft lips met yours, the kiss just felt right and like it was meant to be. You couldn’t help but feel bad for not realizing your feelings sooner than later and putting him through hell. 

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours and cupped your cheeks as he asked, “Will you finally be mine?”

“Absolutely Noah.” 

title comes from Lucky Ones by LIGHTS

[thewhumpcaretaker]

⚜ Marquis of Los Angeles: Ch. 3 - A Manageable Situation

ཐི♡ཋྀ Thank you for the beta-read, @evrensadwrn! ཐི♡ཋྀ

Summary: As LaCroix brings Vincent home to Venture Tower, each one has a very simple plan. Surely all will go well.

TW: mind control, emotional manipulation, kidnapping

Vincent drifted through the city of angels, a prisoner in his own body. Bars and restaurants and strip clubs flashed past in neon and chain link and rain-drenched concrete. The downpour did nothing to stifle the city stench, but rather enhanced it. The air was too warm, too humid, the look of palms and alien plants more unfamiliar than it should have been, given that he’d watched American movies. But everything looked different in person. He had been to the states before, but never the west coast. It occurred to him, in fact, that he was probably farther from Versailles than he’d ever been.

By the clock on the dash, it was just past 8 PM local time. The whole night lay ahead of them. And LaCroix was just getting started, taking his “early” business calls in the front seat as the city’s nightlife shook itself awake. Meanwhile, Vincent fought against the hunger and exhaustion that had not been properly addressed for days even before he was taken.

With Sebastian’s concentration slipping to other concerns, Vincent’s numbed emotions were slipping back into the pit of his stomach, where they tied themselves into an aching knot. Horror was there, in nightmarish quantity, but so was hope - a feverish, desperate kind of hope. This was not the time to panic, but to plan. This was really a very manageable situation, all things considered. “No one is looking for you because no one knows you are missing.” He kept repeating those words to himself. LaCroix was quite right. All he had to do was contact someone. Even being seen alive in public might be enough. And then everyone would be looking for him. And they’d take him away. And LaCroix would be so devastated…pictures of him kept intruding into Vincent’s mind, crying over Vincent, losing him, missing him. There was some overwhelming desire to see LaCroix utterly pathetic on his account. It wasn’t ideal to be so fixated on LaCroix, but…better to hate him than to love him. In the midst of this feeling, it was possible to dream of escape, and so he clung to it.

He’d been directly commanded not to jump out of the vehicle, but he rested his forehead against the glass, hoping to be seen as the streetlamps passed over him in cycling flashes of yellow. But they were, of course, moving too quickly for anyone to recognize him, even if any of the passersby somehow knew who he was. Without any incident, the car came to a stop in front of an enormous skyscraper which LaCroix announced as Venture Tower.

The building itself seemed hostile, designed for intimidation. What kind of a man flanked his doorway with these god-awful Modernist figures of what Vincent could only describe as emaciated shadow people? It was chilling, but in such an unsophisticated way, like hoisting up a head on a pike for all to see. He wondered if they were meant to represent those Sebastian had drained of blood. He tried to play off his shudder of body horror as mere aesthetic disgust. “How is it that you lived through Romanticism without absorbing a single one of its artistic principles? It was wasted on you.”

LaCroix’s eyes widened and Vincent realized too late that he’d given himself away. Until now, the Prince probably thought he was still under full domination. “Already running your mouth again? Extraordinary, how you break free. So much so, in fact, that I’ll indulge you.” He gestured to the dismal grey lobby that would have been better suited to a penitentiary. “I change with the times and the requirements of leadership. It’s called branding, Vincent, and it saves lives. You’ll find the penthouse better suited to your tastes, but there’s no reason for the masses to see how I furnish my own living space. They have a tendency to start lopping off heads when they see too much open gaudiness…or firing bullets through skulls, as the case may be.” The Prince eyed Vincent’s embroidered greatcoat pointedly, as if that had been the sole reason for Wick’s dispute with him.

But he hadn’t stolen Vincent’s voice again, and that was something. Better try for a compliment, keep him talking.

“It does make for a brutal spectacle, at least, which is its own sort of…functionality.” His eyes were fixed on the elevator’s emergency call button, and his mind on the phone at the front desk of the lobby. His own cell phone had been confiscated at some point in his unconsciousness. Who was carrying it? LaCroix, or the Sheriff?

LaCroix nodded, no doubt pleased with his own advice. That confident smile, the way his mouth curled back against his fangs…Vincent suddenly felt like he had lost command of himself again. It was so difficult to look at this man without wanting to crush him to pieces. “You’ll learn a great deal with me, Vincent. I’m offering you an opportunity, to serve the interests of the Camarilla, to rule over LA at my side…and eventually much more than that, as your regnant’s hold expands.”

An opportunity to serve. How enticing. Vincent physically bit his tongue until his irritation subsided before replying. “Do you take me for a fool, LaCroix? I know what it means to share power, and it does not interest me.”

“How unfortunate. Then you will have none. You’ve lost your privileges again.”

A violent jolt of compulsion followed, stronger than anything on the aircraft. He was a passenger in his body again for the remainder of the elevator ride. He drifted powerless into the heart of Sebastian’s domain, gliding past the collection of history paintings that had been missing from the art historical community for hundreds of years, past the gold filigree flickering with firelight and the white moon that flashed through driving rain to cast a sliver of halo against the Prince’s hair. Sebastian wasn’t joking – he was a man of taste after all, and to be at the epicenter of his power was to walk in a decadent dream.

Never had Vincent felt so completely in the power of another person. Never had he felt another person’s strength so directly, inside of his own body and surrounding him on every side with the fruits of his superior’s machinations. He was totally and completely in Sebastian’s hold, spurred to the point of some manic envy. Two centuries of power were concentrated in this room. It made him want to sing and scream out loud, to climb the walls and knife the cushions, to tear the curtains with his teeth, to fling himself at LaCroix and…and…

To outdo him. How good it would feel, to conquer the most magnificent man he had ever seen. An opportunity. Yes, an opportunity to conquer. To see you broken and wretched. To impress you, REALLY impress you, until you bow to me. You’ll look so pretty weeping on your knees when your new pet disappears back to France with all your secrets, Bast…shame I won’t be here to see it… He shook himself, trying to focus only on the return home, but the return home was tied up with a powerful vengefulness towards LaCroix. To live, to be himself, was to struggle against LaCroix. His blood was pounding wildly all through his body, livid with another man’s vital energy.

Then Sebastain’s hands were on him, guiding him gently into a chair. “Easy. It’s hitting you, isn’t it? You like my pretty things?”

Oh, Sebastian. You don’t understand at all. In a wrathful haze, he grinned. “…Oui.”

“Good then.” He straightened up and snapped his fingers at the Sheriff. “He’s coming under control. We should be alright.” They were whispering about some assignment, and the Sheriff was gone.

Vincent stared into the fire, half insensible and trembling. I’m going to devastate him. I’m going to make him hurt. I’m going to devour everything that’s his and make it MINE.

.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸. ཐི♡ཋྀ.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸.

LaCroix opened his briefcase, removing the contents from his travels and settling in at his desk for the night. He was thoroughly relieved. It was really a very manageable situation. The Marquis just took a while to feel the full effects. Perhaps that made sense, given how long it had taken him to heal from the bullet wound. Regrowing a brain was such a long process. But the vitae had finally taken root, and he was completely entranced.

Sebastian’s eyes lingered on Vincent. He was shaking in some ecstasy of reverence or lust, his eyes fixed on a Ventrue crest above the fireplace. It was strangely…disappointing. To see him like this was such an insult to the Marquis who had been fighting for his freedom tooth and nail just minutes ago. The Prince couldn’t help the sense that he had crushed something irreplaceable, and that it wasn’t worth it. Brought to heel, Vincent was cute, but before he had been…

Well, anyway, he wasn’t just cute. He really was bright. It was only a matter of how best to use him. He’d make a uniquely opportune spy within the High Table if there was some way to send him back in without compromising the Masquerade. But that was doubtful, and besides, he’d make just as clever a spy within the underworld. It seemed a shame to waste him among the kine - a specimen such as this wasn’t meant for such a life.

Or he could be useful on the trail of the Sarcophagus…

“Join me for a moment.” It was somewhere between hilarious and painful, watching Vincent cross the room. He wasn’t unsteady exactly, but pulled taut as a violin string. He practically vibrated. Sebastian could hear his racing heart. Vincent’s wide eyes locked onto his face and could not turn away. There was still something terrifying in them, and he found himself wondering whether he hadn’t best calm him down before attempting conversation. “…Are you quite well now, Vincent?”

“I am…hungry.” It was said with all the strained desperation of a newborn vampire. “Please, Prince. I know you don’t need to eat, but it’s been all day and night for me. Won’t you get me something, anything?”

He smiled, indulgent. Vincent wasn’t just cute this way, he was adorable. Those pleading eyes. “Alright. One moment, and then we’ll have a talk over your breakfast.”

One moment, turned away to call the front desk. And Vincent had already retrieved his cell phone from the briefcase and run halfway across the room. It was ringing.

He swore and made after him. “Oh for - Just where do you think you’re going!?” Vincent only sped up and disappeared into the stairwell. For god’s sake, his legs were so long…

Down they spiraled, Sebastian shouting useless commands that only seemed to spur him onward. It was no use to take him by force, it would have to be old-fashioned reason. “WHOEVER THAT IS WILL DIE IF YOU SAY A WORD!” The words echoed down some twenty stories. More quietly, for Vincent’s ears only, “The Masquerade. Recall what I told you.”

Vincent went still. In the sudden silence, a voice could be heard on the other side, barely loud enough to filter out towards LaCroix. “Hello? Who is this? It’s not possible that this is the Marquis.”

Panting, staring up at LaCroix with unbridled hatred, Vincent hung up the phone. Why did that look cut him so deeply? He pushed the pain aside and continued his descent, slowly now. Vincent did not retreat any further. “Good boy. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. But you have to understand that I couldn’t let you go now even if I wanted to. It’s a violation of all our laws. To save you, I had to take you away. Permanently. You cannot go back.” He came to the same step as Vincent, looking up at him now, their bodies inches apart. “And now that I have you, can you fault me for putting you to use? When you are such a sharpened tool that you frighten even me?”

Very softly, “I frighten you?”

“…Dreadfully.”

Vincent’s eyes had never looked softer, never more innocently pleased. “Merveilleux.” And he lifted Sebastian right off his feet, and hurled him over the railing.

◃ Back ⚜ Next ▹(coming soon)

Image Sources: One (background) | One (Vincent) | Two

[blackdragoness]

👀 Who got a reading on you and what was said?👀

PICK A CARD READING

You ever been able to feel when someone’s trying to penetrate your energetic space? I’ve been feeling it a lot lately and have had a strong feeling someone’s been getting readings on me. So I figured we investigate the perpetrator and see what was revealed. If you’ve had this same feeling before, pick a pile and I’ll reveal to you who and what the tarot reader told them.

Pile 1 😎🩸😄🥹

Pile 2 😰😕👍😫

Pile 3 ✍🏽😐🥱😮

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Pile 1: 😎🩸😄🥹

3 of Pentacles, 4 of Wands, 10 of pentacles

WHO?

This is someone you were cool with in the past but for some reason, you two have been in no contact with each other for a while.

This is someone you may have considered family at one point or maybe you guys are actually family. The energy feels familiar and safe.

Long distance or it’s been a long time since you’ve actually seen/spoken to this person however I feel a lot of love between the two of you.

WHY?

This person misses you so much. I don’t feel like there’s any bad blood here. It feels nice and wholesome. Similar to that of two childhood friends who got swept away by their own personal lives and lost touch with each other.

This person got a reading on you because even though lots of time has passed and you are both on your own paths in life, you haven’t left this persons mind. I’m hearing “an unforgettable presence”. IRREPLACEABLE.

This person got a reading on you because he/she wanted to know if you were actually fulfilling all the goals and plans you guys talked about as kids.

This person wants the best for you and you symbolize hope for this person. They’ve been watching you from afar and yearn for the closeness you guys once had in passing times.

This person got a reading on you as a “check in” to make sure you are okay.

WHAT was revealed?

The tarot reader revealed that you’ve been enjoying a lot of positive karma in your life.

The tarot reader revealed that you’ve been focused on your goals. though it’s been a rough journey in the pursuit of your dreams, you’ve been overcoming so many hardships and battles like a champ.

The tarot reader revealed that you still have lots of love for this person and know in due time, you guys will be reunited again.

The tarot reader revealed that you recently hit a milestone in your life and are being blessed beyond measures right now.

The tarot reader revealed that you are enjoying a lot of light hearted activities. That you might be surrounded by loved ones and family members that bring you lots of peace, joy and happiness.

Lots of positive energy and messages that were relayed to the person who got a reading on you. I’m sensing that all this information brought peace and light to this person knowing that you are still true to yourself. Awww, this person totally loves and admires you. Don’t be afraid to send them a message and reconnect with this old friend. They tear up thinking about the memories you two shared. I feel that the message they received was short and sweet and straight to the point and then they went about their merry way.

Channeled Song: Made For Me by Muni Long

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Pile 2: 😰😕👍😫

8 of Cups, 10 of Wands, 6 of swords

WHO?

This person feels like someone who caused you a lot of grief and uncertainty. This is someone you walked away from and who you had to set solid boundaries with.

This feels like a no contact relationship but I’m feeling that it was you who initiated this separation.

This person feels grimey and dirty - this could be both spiritually, mentally and physically. Just a nasty person overall.

This person’s energy feels like they are beneath you 🤣 I know that sounds harsh but they are very low vibrational right now compared to your energy.

WHY?

This person got a tarot reading on you because they’re a little bitter. This is what the scenario sounds like: When the player finally gets played and becomes obsessed with the one who got away.

It’s like they didn’t think you were ever going to walk away but when you finally did it shocked them so much. For some reason they thought they had you under some kind of spell?

They got a tarot reading on you because they don’t want to believe that you are actually happy without them 🙄

They were hoping to uncover some nasty truths about you through this reading

WHAT was revealed?

The tarot reader revealed the truth of your happiness to them. That you’ve finally been able to feel whole again ever since walking away from them. That you gained more from walking away in comparison to what you thought you lost when you walked away.

The tarot reader revealed that you have strong boundaries up with this person and that you see through all their deceptive tricks.

The tarot reader told them that you have moved on and have no intentions of ever reconnecting with them.

The tarot reader warned them to stay out of your life and energy field because your ancestors are protecting you from them.

The tarot reader kept it vague and turned their attention back to this person and offered them advice to begin their healing journey.

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹- I keep seeing this emoji in my head as I type this pile. The tarot reader told them that it took a while for you to heal your own heart from the damage they put you through but that somehow, you regained your heart and your strength back. The tarot reader also told this person a few things about themselves that awakened them to heal their own destructiveness.

Lots of things were said to this person that they were not ready to hear nor were they happy about hearing of your progress. “I want God to bless me the way he blesses you.” This person has so much growing up to do and is experiencing their karma. I’m seeing all of the grief they tried to inflict on you, is currently hitting them 10 fold. You are better off without this person. Keep going & stay the course youngin’.

Channeled Song: Feather by Sabrina Carpenter

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Pile 3: ✍🏽😐🥱😮

6 of cups, Two of Cups, 7 of cups

WHO?

This is someone who you know and are currently in contact with. I’m feeling like it’s a friendship for you, but the other person has developed a secret crush 🤣

The person who got a reading on you is your secret admirer 🤣 this is someone who is probably in your circle of friends and wishes to be something more with you.

This person knows you have many options and feels that you are out of their league and yet they can’t help but fall in love with you the more they interact with you.

Very nervous and anxious everytime you come around. They stutter on their words, talk really fast or become extremely shy in your presence.

That one friend who everyone describes as the life of the party but everytime you are in the room, this person is mute, bland and boring so you never seen this side that everyone talks about. They get this way around you only because of how nervous you make them feel

WHY?

They got a reading on you because they know they won’t be able to get over you and want to strategically plan on how to get you without you being aware of it 🤣

This person knows you have many offers and options, but still isn’t going to back down in the face of competition 🤣

This person wants to ask you out or send you a message confessing how they feel but keep overthinking it. So instead of just being brave and talking to you, they watch YouTube “How does she feel about me?” readings all day to hype up his confidence. Such a cheesy person, omg 🤣

This person doesn’t even care if you already got somebody in your life rn, they are waiting for their chance to pop back up and steal you away 🤣

WHAT was revealed?

Honestly, I don’t know how accurate this part is for you pile 3, so take it with a grain of salt. The thing is, this person has watched so many YouTube Tarot reading videos on you at this point with multiple different storylines that’s it’s confusing to know which one is actually YOUR energy 🤣 but the thing is, he’s going with the storyline that fits his own ego 🤣 so bear with me because this is what (S)HE THINKS you feel 🤣

I guess the storyline he went with is that you’re currently bored with the options you are entertaining currently. You’re not looking for anything serious at this moment and you’re only focused on your goals and manifesting them into reality.

If you have a boyfriend currently, he thinks you are bored and in a bland relationship and feels he can come and save you from it 🤣 he wants to show you what the time of your life really looks like and fantasizes about surprising you with an all paid for vacation. He has a lot of romantic fantasies for you and not all of them are sexual. Like this guy really loves you lol

You could very well be in the relationship of your dreams with the man you truly love but this guy thinks that there is no way you can be having fun because he thinks only he can show you the type of “fun” you’re looking for 🤣🤣 oh my goodness pile 3, this guy is bonkers for you 🤣 so bonkers he’s a little delusional lol

If you’re single, he thinks you’re bored being single and want a relationship and in his mind, no one is more perfect for you than him 🤣

As far as what the tarot reader has revealed about you, it just says you weren’t looking for anything serious with anybody and that includes him 🤣 but I feel like this person doesn’t want to believe that so he steady checking the YouTube readings until he hears what he wants to hear about you 🤣

Channeled Song: Crush by David Archuleta

[demonvampire180writes]

Come find me on the Archive

The week is finally coming to a close. It’s been an agonizingly long six days since Buck has seen his boyfriend in person, and his heart aches for him. His skin misses the lingering warmth of every touch and the smell of his shower gel after a long, hot bath. Buck misses those bright blue eyes that crinkle at the corners with every smile and the deadpan delivery of dumb jokes. In short, Buck just misses Tommy.

After a final inspection, Gerrard dismisses the A shift and Buck shoots out of there like a rocket, barely taking time to shove his change of clothes into his duffel before he’s side stepping through coworkers just so he can get to his Jeep that one second faster. Because the faster he moves, the sooner he gets to see Tommy.

As he runs, he places his hand over his heart; the tattoo is through the peeling stage and the redness and swelling have both gone down. It’s still fresh enough that the lines are dark, and strong, but it doesn’t look like he just stepped out of the shop and decided to go sunbathing and got sunburnt either. He’s unspeakably happy, and as each day went by, the more he wanted to see the older man, to show it off. It took days and days for the nerves to calm down and, now that he’s finally going to see Tommy, all he can do is shake with anticipation.

Tommy’s going to love it, he just knows it.

Just as he’s throwing his duffel into the passenger seat, his phone nestled into its holder on the dash, it begins to ring with a video call. Buck grins so wide his face hurts as he answers it, Tommy’s face too close to the camera as usual. “Tommy!” Buck breathes, leaning back against the seat.

“Hey babe. How’re you?”

“I’m just getting off shift.” Shyly he adds. “I can’t wait to see you.” Tommy pulls the phone back some and Buck swoons at his affectionate grin. “I missed you.” He finishes.

“God, I missed you, too. A week is far too long to not see you.” Buck’s heart pitter patters. “Are you coming over right away or do you need to stop home first?”

Buck is shaking his head before he even finishes speaking, feeling his heart grow three times larger just hearing the man’s smooth baritone over airwaves. “I can’t wait a second longer. I’ll be at your place in…” He glances quickly at the clock on his dash, turning his eyes back to his love promptly, “...probably an hour?” It’s 6 PM on a Monday so crosstown traffic will be atrocious. And he took a car this time.

Tommy winks, lips quirking michievously - his pupils dilate a bit and a shudder runs down Buck’s back. Don’t get distracted. “I’ll be waiting for you. So how was your shift?” As Buck starts the vehicle, they fall into easy conversation. Before he knows it, Buck is pulling into Tommy’s driveway, their conversation not having lulled once the entire drive.

He’s up and out of the seat almost before he’s turned the ignition off, and the front door swings open, Tommy standing behind it with his arms held wide open. Without a second thought Buck walks right into his embrace, wrapping himself around his man like a koala around its favorite tree. Tommy leans into him and presses a kiss to his hair, his strong arms hugging him tight enough that Buck can barely breathe. And he’d rather not be anywhere else.

“Hey.” Tommy mumbles, refusing to pull away.

“Hey.” Buck replies, turning to nose the side of his boyfriend's neck, inhaling his scent until it’s all he can smell. “Missed you.” He says it again to ensure there’s no confusion.

“Missed you too.” He presses another kiss to his hair before running a hand through it, tugging softly at the little curls at his nape. “Glad you had a good shift.”

“It’s better now because I get to see you.” Buck looks up through his eyelashes, batting them like he thinks he’s cute or something. Apparently Tommy thinks he is because he plants one right on his lips, his own mouth curved up in an exasperatedly fond smile. “How was your day off?”

“Oh, you know.” Tommy pulls away and Buck whimpers, bottom lip jutting out almost subconsciously. Tommy says nothing but pulls the younger man through the doorway, closing it behind them, and lacing their fingers together as they traverse the foyer and hallways into the kitchen. Tommy plants Buck down on one of the island stools and makes for the fridge. As he pulls it open and grabs out two beers he says, “The usual. I worked on that car I’ve been trying to restore, didn’t get very far because my God is it a beast, and did some chores. Really I spent most of my day lamenting that you weren’t here in my arms, yet.” Buck’s face flames and he has to duck his head in his embarrassment.

“Dammit Tommy, really? You’re gonna make me giggle like a little girl over here.” He chides, secretly loving when Tommy casually slips in some mushy bullshit. It makes him feel loved. It makes him feel like the tattoo was, in fact, a great idea. He doesn’t see Tommy shrug but he can sense it, like he senses the shit eating grin he wears as he sets down his drink in front of him, having popped the top off on the bottle opener mounted under the counter. Then there’s fingers lifting his chin, forcing him to look up and he inhales sharply at Tommy’s slight frown, his blue-grey eyes intent.

“Evan, I’m not joking. I missed you so much this week. We were both so busy at work, and we hardly had time to Facetime each other. There wasn’t even time to visit you at the station for meals or breaks. I-” He takes a deep breath, grounding himself, and seems to force the words out. “I never thought I could miss seeing someone in person that I talk to on the phone every single day. It physically hurt me to not be able to touch you; to hold you.” He leans in to press a hard, lingering kiss to Buck’s lips, tilting his chin upwards with those two fingers like he had done the first time he took Buck’s lips. When he pulls back, Buck’s heat is in his throat and his brain is in a fog. It takes all his willpower to look away from Tommy’s lips and into his eyes as he says, “Knowing you were coming over tonight, I could only distract myself for so long before you were the only thing I could think about.” He pauses. “Though, now that I’m thinking about it, you’re all I think about anyway.”

It takes all of Buck’s self control to not leap from his seat and tackle this man to the ground and take what he pleases. It’s not that he doesn’t want that, in fact he’s so pent up he can cry, but he refuses to let that be the foundation of their interactions. That was Buck 1.0 and Abby taught him that that isn’t what he has to be. Every relationship since has taught him more and more that, while sex is great, there’s more to intimacy than just that. Like getting permanent body modifying art without discussing it with your significant other first. Instead, Buck keens pitifully and whimpers as he wraps himself once more around his boyfriend, pulling him in snuggly between his legs and burying his head into his stomach. Tommy snorts and wraps his large hands gently around Buck’s necks, thumbs rubbing circles over the taut muscles there. He doesn’t stop, or pause, even once, until Buck pulls away.

“No wonder everyone keeps accusing me of having it down bad for you.” He huffs, eyes hot.

“Down bad?” Tommy asks with a confused, raised brow.

Buck pats his boyfriends stomach and replies, “Don’t worry about it old man. You wouldn’t get it.”

Tommy gasps, “Excuse you, Evan, I am not old. I’m only forty.” He tugs at Buck’s hair. “I’m not even old enough to be your Daddy.”

“Oh yeah? Says who?” Buck asks with the most lascvicious grin on his face, unable to keep from poking the beast. Tommy lunges forward but before he can tackle Buck, Buck is out of his seat darting around the kitchen island.

The next twenty minutes is spent with Tommy chasing Buck around his house with peels of laughter rolling out of Buck in waves he cannot stop. Eventually it ends with Tommy tackling Buck onto their bed with the younger man on his back, panting and Tommy bridged over him, curls a tangled mess. Both men grin at each other and Tommy leans in to meet Buck halfway in a kiss. Moaning, Buck rolls his hips, his libido choosing that moment to rear its head. He can feel Tommy responding to the motion but, at the most inopportune time, Buck’s stomach screams out with hunger - reminding him that the last full meal he ate is close to ten hours ago.

Startling, the two crumple in laughter, realizing what just happened. Tommy lets his full weight flop on top of Buck, and Buck relishes as he buries that perfect, somewhat crooked nose, bury itself into the sensitive flesh of his neck. They stay, giggling, like that for a few minutes before Buck’s stomach makes his hunger known once again. “I think that may be a sign.” Tommy huffs, nuzzling him deeper. “Shame.” Buck can feel the disappointment against his thigh and he can��t agree more. Tommy brushes his lips against his skin and sighs, “We’ll be picking up where we left off, later.”

“D-definitely.” Buck mumbles, running his hands down Tommy’s spine, grabbing his ass, and squeezing until the man yelps in protest. “So. Are we making dinner or going out?”

“If we stay in, I can promise you we’re not going to be leaving this bed to get as far as dinner.” Tommy assures him.

Buck guffaws and shoves Tommy off, laughing as he lands with a whumph on his back, grinning like the loon he is. “Dumbass. What are you hungry for?”

“You.” He replies, deadpan.

Buck rolls his eyes and thwacks him softly in the stomach with the back of his hand. “I’m clearly dessert. I mean what do you want for the main course?” He’s sitting up now, willing the heat in his stomach and groin to get the message that personal time isn’t on the books right at this second. His body needs nourishment if they’re about to marathon the next seventy-two hours they have off together. A delicious shudder runs down his spine, but he manages to shove those thoughts away.

Tommy’s head lulls his way and, once again, in the driest, most deadpan way he can muster, he replies, “You. You are the appetizer, main course and dessert. You’re a one stop dinner shop to me, Evan.”

O-o-o-o-kay then, so much for putting those thoughts away. Grunting, half in resignation and half with building desire, Buck heaves himself on top of Tommy, straddling him. “If I pass out, Thomas Kinard, I’m blaming you.” And the next instant he’s on him, bodies making magic with every movement.

Buck is standing next to the bed, shirt in hand. They’d gone two rounds before his stomach had protested loud enough that they had to call it quits. Tommy’s currently showering, Buck went first to make sure showering is all they did, but a second later the door swings open and he’s standing there in all his bare chested glory, hair dripping, curls awry. He uses the towel wrapped around his neck to start drying his hair, eyes roaming Buck hungrily, though more sated than he was an hour ago, when his eyes stop and his mouth falls open. The towel he’s using drops, draping limply around his shoulder and his mouth is agape.

“What is it, babe?” Buck asks worriedly. He glances down at his own body, not seeing anything to call for alarm. Then it strikes him. Slowly raising his head, he carefully follow’s Tommy’s sightline and confirms just where he’s looking. How did he forget? Actually, how had Tommy not noticed mid coitus? (Well. Actually. If he had, Buck wouldn’t have been doing a very good job he thinks to himself.) “O-oh. Um…” The weeks earlier anxiety spikes. All the confidence he’s built vanishes in an instant and his body starts to shake. He pulls the shirt he’s holding up a little further, even though it’s not really blocking anything, creating a barrier between his boyfriend’s eyes and his new art. He feels laid bare, and not in a good way. This was a stupid idea. He wants to cry - he feels the heat prickling in the back of his eyes, the way his nose tickles in anticipation of tears.

Tommy strides forward, reaching him in three long steps, and reaches out to place his hand over Buck’s heart. Buck, unintentionally, flinches and Tommy doesn’t fail to notice. He pulls his hand back as if burned, looking hurt. He doesn’t reach for him again as he says, “Evan. Is that new?”

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to flinch.” He apologizes quickly, feeling smaller than an ant. He looks away from Tommy, shuffling his feet. “Y-yeah. I-it’s new.” His throat clogs. He’s going to pass out. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid Buck. How could he have thought this was a good idea? It’s too soon and now Tommy is going to leave him, just like everyone else. Tears really do begin to fall now, Buck unable to stop them at the thought of Tommy leaving him. “I-I know it’s too much, and I-I-I know it’s t-too soon, so if you n-need to step back from m-me, I get it.”

“Evan.” A warm hand presses over his heart again. “Hold on just a second. I know you tell great stories, but it’s easier for me to understand if you start from the beginning. What do you mean it’s ‘too soon’? What’s too soon?”

Buck sniffles far too loudly as he wipes at his nose, the dopamine from their romp in the bed not twenty minutes before evaporating into dust. He’s unable to compose himself and, in fact, starts crying even harder when Tommy brings him into his arms, one hand still pressing against his tattoo. “This. All of this. I know it’s stupid but… I just… I love you so much Tommy and the thought of losing you brings me to my knees.”

“Honey. Baby. Why would you ever lose me? I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

“You say that now,” Buck snuffles, “but everyone gets sick of me eventually. And then I do stupid shit like getting a tattoo that I hope will be my good luck charm in keeping us together. Forever.” Tommy pushes him back and his hands clamp down, hard, on his shoulders.

“Evan. Look at me.” He doesn’t. “Dammit, Evan Buckley, look at me.” There’s a growl in Tommy’s voice that Buck has never witnessed before, and he can’t help how his head snaps up to look him in the eye. Tommy’s expression is hard, harder than Buck can ever remember, and his heart stutters. Tommys is pissed at him. Of course he is. Who wouldn’t be pissed when someone does something this big without talking about it. The tears come faster and he can feel snot pooling along his Cupid’s bow but he doesn’t even bother trying to swipe it away anymore.

To his total surprise, Tommy does it for him, using the towel he’d been drying his hair with before, not caring that he won’t be able to use it again until it’s washed. “I’m still not understanding. This tattoo is… You got it for us?” Buck nods miserably, still sniffling. 

The longest silence Buck has ever suffered through follows, though logically he knows it was likely only a few seconds, when he hears a sniff that isn’t his own. Lifting his eyes, his chest seizes, noticing wetness in his man's eyes, his baby blue-greys glistening with his own unshed tears. “T-Tommy, oh my God I’m so sorry. It doesn’t have to mean anything for us. I can tell people I just thought it was cool. Oh God, please don’t-” He doesn’t even finish the sentence before Tommy’s mouth is crashing over his and his face is wrapped up in hot, calloused hands. Buck opens his mouth in a gasp but doesn’t get it out because Tommy’s tongue is shoving past his lips, tangling with his until neither of them can breathe.

When they finally pull away from each other, Tommy rests his forehead against Buck’s as he breathes, voice wet, “Oh Evan, you stupid, stupid man. I don’t even know how to convey to you just how much I love you. How much I love everything about you. Just how much I want to spend forever with you, too.” He sucks in a breath through his nose, calming himself. “I have never loved anyone as much as I love you, Evan. I’ll never love anyone as much again. And I’m sorry you ever had to doubt yourself, or your actions. I promise that I will do better showing you that you can be who you are, no matter what.”

Buck whimpers, his knees going weak. Tommy catches him, holding him up without disengaging their heads. “You’re perfect, Tommy. You already do so much for me. You don’t need to change. It’s my fault. It’s just my stupid insecurities.”

Tommy shakes his head. “No, Evan. You’ve been through so many bad relationships, romantic and familial, and I knew that, yet I still didn’t try hard enough. I will never let you feel this way again. I shouldn’t have let it happen in the first place.” He tilts his head to press a kiss against Buck’s birthmark, squeezing him into a hug with one arm around Buck’s shoulder and the other around his waist, wrapping him in an embrace he never wants to escape from. Buck doesn’t respond, choosing to instead grab Tommy’s hips as best as he can, leaning his head against his shoulder and letting himself be surrounded by his calming scent.

When Tommy finally lets go, he grabs Buck’s chin and rubs soothingly along his jaw with his thumb. “Now, you’re going to let me finish getting dressed, and then you’re going to tell me all about this.” He pats Buck’s chest. With a watery chuckle Buck nods his ascent, finally loosening his grip on the shirt he’s kept a death hold on this entire time.

The two sit in Tommy’s living room on the couch, Buck with his shirt off facing Tommy who’s sitting with one leg cocked, the other draped over the edge. His eyes roam over the scene - a hyper realistic helicopter with its blades blurring as though in motion facing towards what could only be LA’s muted skyline. In the background of the otherwise greyscale ink is a fiery red sunset with hues of orange, and red, and pink, the glaring sun sinking behind the fluffy grey clouds. Although “LAFD” isn’t anywhere in the image, if one looks closely enough they would notice a tiny “217” inked on the front of one of the building outlines, as though nothing more than an address. Another one, more in the background, shows “118”.

The picture takes up the entirety of Buck’s pectoral and Tommy is in awe. His fingers trace the delicate linework and a lump the size of a gumball catches in his throat. Buck did this for him. For them. This man, this beautiful, glorious, golden retriever of a man wishes so much that they’ll last that he marked himself. Trying to clear away the emotions Tommy chokes, “It’s stunning, Evan. I don’t even have the right words for it.”

Evan looks at him, shy. “So… this is okay?” He puts his hand over Tommy’s, squeezing.

He doesn’t even have to contemplate the answer, replying, “Nothing has ever been more okay in my entire life.” He pecks the tip of Buck’s nose. Trying to shake off the too heavy emotions he jokes, “So, when I called you that first day… You weren’t denying me seeing my hot boyfriend shirtless… You were keeping this little surprise to yourself?”

Evan shoots him a crooked smile, heat coloring his neck the prettiest red. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you.”

Tommy snorts, flicking the end of his nose with his free hand. “And I’m guessing your whole family knew?” Buck nods. Scoffing the pilot says, no heat in his words, “And Howie managed to keep it a secret? Damn, I see where his loyalties lay.” Evan rubs at his nose but grins. “Evan…” He pauses. “Thank you. Thank you for making me the happiest man I’ve ever been, and probably the happiest man I’ll ever be. Neither of us can say for certain that we’re going to be forever but, more than anything in the world, more than me hoping you have Daddy issues,” he snorts that cute little snort he does when he’s taken off guard, “I hope we are. Evan Buckley. I love you and you’re mine. Now and for the foreseeable future.” He leans in to press his lips to Evan’s forehead, heart swelling with pride.

Tommy doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve this, but he will never take it for granted for as long as they both shall live.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

[theythemmer]

missing ERS….

[electric-plants]

ahsjfkglhjhsh having an INSANE moment because i play genshin with the chinese audio and what do you MEAN that’s alhaitham talking in the trailer for cyno’s second story quest what do you MEAN

[appreciatingtokrev]

hey guys do y’all remrmber me ..... i am alive and doing well 👍👍

[twinksintrees]

i’m so tired all i wanna do is cry

[bibleofficial]

went to the beach w kp & 4 other indian friends & 3 of us had NEVER surfed before girl WHEW it’s SO fun literally only 20quid to rent a wetsuit & board & i fucking smashed my toes on the sand so much, but also we 1) got the wrong tickets so we got off 1 stop early 2) went to find a bus & the bus that was supposed to be 15 min turned into an HOUR 3) on our way to find a bus back everyone’s phones are dying or dead bc it took us 3hrs longer to get there, cigarettes are out 4) all of the shops in town are closed & the town seems to have ONLY a tesco extra & 1 off license that sells a PACK FOR 15.65 A PACK WHICH IS FUCKING CRIMINAL ITS CHEAPER TO BUY IT FROM TESCO ARE U INSANE 5) the bus back to the other town kept skipping us bc the bus stop wasn’t the ACTUAL bus stop - i had 1 bowl since literally 11a & we got back at fucking 11p 😭😭😭

[exopelagic]

A list of things I’m frustrated by: