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runningincircl3s · 2 months ago

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Untitled Bestfriend!Noah x Reader Series

Part 3 (finally) (sorry for the wait!!)

okay i'm sorry for the wait!! it's been almost a month since i posted part two but i've been super busy lately, but i wrote this last night so i'm hoping it doesn't seem too rushed!! the series masterlist is here and you can join the taglist here :) (and i promise i wont make everyone wait another month to post part 4 lmao)

warnings: NSFW!! porn with little plot- each chapter is basically a oneshot, oral (f and m recieving) i don't wanna spoil too much...

You were stood in the middle of Noah’s room, your makeup half-done, your dress still draped across the back of his chair, your curling wand sat unplugged on his desk. You were supposed to be getting ready, but instead, you were pacing with a knot in your stomach.

“I don’t want to go.” You muttered, not really to him, more to yourself.

Noah was sprawled across his bed, wearing his black fall out boy shirt, black jeans and of course his red beanie, scrolling on his phone.

“We’ve been planning this all week,” he reminded you without looking up. “You were excited yesterday!”

“Yeah, well,” you sighed, flopping onto the bed beside him. “That was before I found out who else is gonna be there.”

Now he looked at you.

“Those girls?”

You didn’t say anything, just pulled a face and sighed. Noah knew enough to fill in the blanks.

“You don’t have to talk to them.”

“I know but I don’t even want to see them.”

He set his phone down and turned onto his side, propping his head up on his hand.

“So let’s just go for an hour. We’ll grab a drink, say hey to everyone who isn’t a bitch, and come back here.”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling, letting the quiet settle between you two. The room was warm with the heat of the summer, and smelled like him, as always. His playlist played quietly in the background, some new Bring Me the Horizon song you weren’t too familiar with.

“You really don’t want to go, huh?” You could feel him watching you, even without looking at him.

You shook your head.

“Not if I can just stay here with you.”

“What are we gonna do,” he smirked, “Watch Twilight for the fifteenth time?”

“Maybe.” You tilted your head toward him, eyes narrowing. “You wanna go that bad?”

“I kind of do.” He rolled onto his back next to you, his tone playful. “I was looking forward to free beer that tastes like ass and watching dudes try to flirt with you.”

“You’re such a liar.” You snorted.

“Fine,” he said, grin widening. “I was looking forward to watching dudes not flirt with you.”

“Only because they think you’re my boyfriend!”

“So you’re saying I’m the reason guys don’t hit on you?”

“If you saw a guy sat with his arm around a girl, you’d assume they were dating, right?”

“No…” Noah smirked, “I’d go up and ask her first.”

“Well, that’s you, Noah. Not everyone else is so… experienced.”

A silence settled over you two again for a moment, until you turned to face him again.

“Do you really want to go?”

Noah hesitated, thumb grazing the seam of his jeans.

“I mean… I was kinda looking forward to it.”

“Right,” you said quietly.

“But I don’t care that much.” His eyes flicked to you again. “Not if you’re not feeling it.”

You gave him a weak smile.

“I just don’t wanna be around people who make me feel like shit, y’know? It’s not about ruining your night.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he said, stretching his arms above his head, making his shirt ride up a little. “Staying here with you sounds like a pretty decent trade.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Hey, I mean it.” He turned his head to look at you, something softer in his expression now. “I’ll stay in with you, we could chill, throw on a movie. I’ll even let you pick. I’ll even sit through Twilight again.”

You bit your lip. There it was again, that pull. You didn’t mean to feel it, but it was always there with him. Comfort and heat, tangled up in the same breath.

You sat up a little against the headboard.

“What if I gave you a better reason to stay…”

He raised a brow, intrigued.

“Better than Twilight?” He asked, voice laced with sarcasm.

A small smirk tugged at your lips. You crossed your arms, tilting your head.

“What if I let you eat me out?”

The smirk fell clean off his face.

His mouth parted, eyes widening just slightly like he wasn’t sure if you were joking.

“You’re serious?” He said slowly.

You nodded, suddenly very aware of how warm your skin felt.

Noah sat up, legs folding beneath him as he faced you properly. His voice dipped low.

“You know you don’t have to offer sex to keep me here.”

“I know that.” You met his eyes, steady now. “I just… I’ve been thinking about what you said. That night, when we were at my place.”

He stilled, remembering instantly.

“I meant that,” he said, voice getting lower now. “I meant every fucking word.”

You swallowed.

“I know.”

A quiet beat passed between you. Then he leaned forward, hand resting near your thigh on the bed.

“You sure? Really sure?”

You nodded again.

“I want to. I want you to.”

His eyes darkened, his gaze sweeping over your face. Then, softer, more serious, he whispered.

“I'm gonna ruin you for everyone else, y’know?”

You huffed a laugh.

“You’ve already ruined me. This has been all I can think about lately. I want it. I want you..”

That was all he needed.

He kissed you then, slow and hungry, but still careful. You let yourself sink into it, into him, as he shifted you gently beneath him. His hands moved with purpose, but not rushed, he was taking his time, like he was savouring every second.

He pulled your top off with ease, leaving a trail of warm kisses down your sternum, across your stomach. When he got to the waistband of your shorts, he paused, resting his forehead just above them.

“You okay?” He asked, his voice low, his hands gentle on your thighs.

You nodded again, breath shaky.

“Yeah. Just… A little nervous.”

He smiled, lifting his head enough to press a kiss over your navel.

“Just relax,” he murmured. “Let me show you how good it feels- but if you want me to stop at all just say, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded.

Then he started again, slower this time- teasing kisses on your thighs, nipping gently at the sensitive skin until you were writhing. He took his time easing your shorts down your legs, kissing as he went, not breaking eye contact when he finally pulled your underwear aside.

The first kiss he pressed to your clit made your whole body jolt, and he smiled, the smug bastard, because he knew.

He knew he was about to show you something you’d never forget.

“Yeah?” he murmured against you. “That feel good, baby?”

You could barely form a sound, let alone words, your breath caught between a gasp and a moan.

“Good,” he said, lips brushing you again. “You just lay back and let me take care of you.”

He hooked his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, pausing.

“Okay?” he asked again, voice low, eyes flicking to yours.

You gave a breathless nod, and he smiled gently before pulling them down, watching every inch of skin he uncovered. Once they were off, he let his gaze linger, and you squirmed instinctively under the weight of it.

“So fuckin’ pretty.” He murmured, almost to himself.

Then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he leaned in and kissed the inside of your thigh, then the other, trailing his mouth so close you whimpered. His breath ghosted over you before he gently used his thumbs to part you, inspecting every reaction.

“Look at you,” he whispered, brushing the pad of one thumb over your clit so lightly it made your thighs tremble, “Can’t believe I’m the only one who can play with this.”

You couldn’t even form words, your fingers curled into the sheets, hips twitching when he pressed a kiss right over your center, then your clit again, still teasing, still taking his time.

He looked up again, eyes dark but soft.

“Tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

You nodded, breathless, and then his tongue met you fully, licking a slow stripe up from your hole to your clit, like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment. Your back arched instantly, a moan slipping from your lips before you could stop it as his lips wrapped around your clit.

Noah groaned at the sound, hands spreading your thighs a little wider as he settled himself between them.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “You taste even better than I imagined.”

You couldn’t believe how good it felt- sure, your friends had talked about it before, and you had heard stories from other girls about what your best friend could do with that mouth, but you never imagined you’d get the chance to experience it. You were feeling dizzy at how overwhelming and warm and intimate it all was. The way he looked up at you, making eye contact while he did it, like you were the only thing that mattered in the world, fuck it made your head spin.

And then he started talking, sending vibrations with every word.

“Sooo soft, so warm” he murmured between strokes of his tongue. “So sweet. You’re doing so good, baby. How’s it feel?”

You whimpered, hips lifting against his mouth before you could stop yourself.

“That’s it,” he praised, voice rough as he placed a hand just below your navel, holding you down. “Just like that. Let me feel how much you like it.”

You were already trembling, his hair tickling you as your thighs tightened around his head, and he didn’t even slow down. If anything, he seemed to enjoy how sensitive you were, how new it all was to you, how he knew he was the first to ever touch and feel and see you like this. He was so gentle, but every flick of his tongue made your pulse spike.

And then he took your clit between his lips, looking up at you through his lashes as he gently sucked, and you could’ve sworn you saw god.

“Mmm Noah!” You gasped, hands flying to his hair without thinking.

He grinned against you, clearly loving how wrecked you sounded.

“Yeah? You gonna come for me, baby?” He asked between kisses to your cunt, before his tongue circled your clit again.

You nodded quickly, barely able to breathe as your fingers tangled in his hair.

“I… I think so-”

His grip on your hips tightened, his voice dropping even lower.

“That’s it. Let me feel it. Let me feel you cum for me, make a mess, baby.”

Your whole body was trembling, the knot tightening in your belly, ready to snap, every nerve ending lit up like a live wire. You could barely hold on, your hands gripping his hair like it was the only thing anchoring you to earth.

And he didn’t let up.

His tongue moved like he knew exactly what you needed, what would make you come undone completely. And he did. He knew your body even better than you did. Every tiny gasp, every twitch of your thighs, every shaky exhale only made him more focused.

“You’re so close,” he whispered, voice thick and dark with want. “I can feel it.”

You whimpered again, hips rocking against his mouth helplessly.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he urged, lips brushing your clit as he spoke. “Let it happen.”

That was all it took.

The orgasm hit so hard it almost had your vision going white, a choked moan spilling from your lips as your body arched off the bed. Noah held you through it, his mouth still working you through every wave of pleasure, until it became too much and you whimpered, tugging gently at his hair to tell him it was too much.

He finally eased back, giving your thigh one last kiss before lifting his head, his face flushed and glistening, lips swollen, eyes half-lidded and so fucking smug.

You couldn’t even find your voice, still catching your breath, your limbs boneless.

“Holy shit.” You whispered, blinking at the ceiling.

Noah chuckled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before crawling up beside you to give you a kiss, before lying on his side so he could trace slow circles on your hip.

“You okay?” He murmured, voice soft again.

You turned to face him, cheeks warm, lips parted.

“Fuck, yeah… Where the hell did you learn to do that?”

He shrugged modestly, but the gleam in his eye gave him away.

“Years of being a slut.” At least he was honest.

You burst out laughing, and he leaned in to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder, pulling you gently against his chest. You didn’t resist.

After a moment, you whispered,

“Noah?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for being so… gentle.”

“Always.” He kissed your forehead.

You stayed like this for a moment, your head on his chest, forehead tucked under his jaw as he traced patterns over your back. You shifted a little, trying to get comfy, but then your knee brushed over something hard, and you felt Noah’s breath catch as you did so.

“Is that… Are you…?” You felt your face heat up, pulling back just enough to look at him, eyes wide.

Noah gave a breathy little laugh, cheeks tinged pink.

“Yeah. Uh… sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you said quickly, eyes flicking down before meeting his again. “I just… didn’t realise.”

He gave you a lazy smile.

“It’s fine. I can take care of it myself later. That was about you.”

Something about the way he said that made your stomach flip. He meant it. This wasn’t a transactional thing, he genuinely wanted to make you feel good.

But still…

“What if I don’t want you to take care of it yourself?” You asked softly, fingers tracing the ink on his arm.

Noah blinked, eyes searching yours.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” You swallowed, nerves fluttering in your throat. “What if I want to do more? I want to… do it again.”

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze sharpening as he searched your face for any hesitation.

“You’re sure?”

You nodded, even as your voice came out small.

“Yeah. I want to.”

His hand came up to cradle your jaw gently.

“You don’t have to, baby. I meant it, I’m good just like this.”

“I know.” You leaned into his touch, your heart thudding. “But I want to.”

Noah watched you for a moment longer, thumb brushing over your cheek. Then, slowly, he kissed you again, soft at first, then deeper, more purposeful, like he was giving you time to change your mind.

You didn’t.

He rolled you gently onto your back, shifting to settle between your legs, kissing you slow and sweet. His hands roamed your body with practiced care, but never rushed, he was so good at this, and even though it made you nervous, given he was far more experienced at this, but it also made you feel safe.

He reached down, guiding himself against your entrance, but paused just before half the tip was was already in.

“We didn’t prep you, not properly,” he murmured, brows drawn together. “I should’ve gotten you ready, you're still so new to this-”

“It’s okay, I can take it,” you whispered, hooking your legs around his hips, even though it already felt like too much. “I want to.”

But when he pushed in just a little more, your whole body tensed.

It burned, it wasn’t painful but it was far from comfortable. You winced, your eyes screwing shut as you drew a sharp breath.

"It's okay..." You tried to reassure him, though you struggled to even convince yourself. "I'll... I'll get used to it."

Noah stopped instantly.

“Hey,” he said gently, kissing your cheek. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend it’s okay if it’s not.”

You blinked up at him, shame prickling at the edges.

“I’m sorry-”

“No! Don’t be sorry,” he said firmly, brushing your hair back. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just-” he swallowed, still hovering over you, “-I’m not gonna fuck you if you’re in pain, okay? I’d rather wait… Make sure we do it properly so it feels great for the both of us, yeah?”

You bit your lip, nodding, even though you hated how disappointed you felt. You wondered if he'd ever had this before, or if this- if you were the first person he had to stop for.

He saw it.

“Look at me,” he whispered, coaxing your chin up so your eyes met. “I want this again, too. So bad it almost hurts. But not if it’s gonna hurt you. I'd never do that.”

You nodded again, your heart melting at the way he said it. He wasn’t frustrated, or impatient. Just… tender.

“But next time?” You whispered.

He smiled then, slow and warm, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Next time, we’ll do it right. I’ll get you all ready, baby. Take my time. Make it feel so good you won’t want to stop.”

Then, he pulled you close again, pressing his forehead to yours as he held you.

You lay there for a little while, tangled up in each other, his hands drawing soft shapes along your spine as your heartbeat settled. Every so often, you'd feel him twitch against your thigh, still hard, still aching, but he didn’t say anything about it. He was too focused on you.

But you noticed. You couldn’t help it.

And after a few moments of silence, you shifted slightly, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Noah?”

“Yeah, baby?”

You hesitated, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Can I… try something?”

His brow lifted slightly, but his gaze stayed soft.

“What kind of something?”

“I wanna try giving you a blowjob, if that’s okay?” Your cheeks flushed.

He blinked, surprised, and for a second you thought maybe you’d overstepped, but then a slow, crooked grin tugged at his mouth.

“Fuck,” he breathed, eyes darkening. “You sure?”

You nodded, heart pounding.

“Yeah. I wanna learn... Will you teach me?”

He exhaled like it physically pained him to hold back, reaching up to cup your cheek and kiss you again, this time deeper, more heated.

“Yes of course, baby,” he said against your lips. “I’ll show you everything.”

He lay back, undressing and then letting you settle between his legs. You glanced down, swallowing hard at the sight of him. He was thick, flushed, leaking at the tip. He was definitely bigger than you remembered from the first time, and that little flutter of nerves in your stomach returned.

“Start slow,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “Don’t go straight in, use your hand first. Get used to it.”

You reached for him tentatively, wrapping your fingers around his shaft. He let out a low groan the second you touched him, eyes fluttering closed.

“Fuck… Just like that, yeah,” he praised, hips barely twitching up. “You’ve got perfect hands, so fucking soft.”

You stroked him slowly, watching his reactions, learning what made his breath hitch and his thighs tense. When you leaned in, hesitating just before your lips touched him, he opened his eyes again.

“Start with your tongue,” he said gently, brushing a hand over your hair. “You don’t have to take a lot. Just go slow, get it wet first.”

You nodded, licking a shy stripe from the base up to the tip, pressing a little soft kiss to it before doing it again, feeling a little braver when he moaned your name.

“That’s it, baby. Shit… It feels so good. You’re so good.”

You wrapped your lips around the head, letting him in little by little, trying not to gag when you took it a little too far. He was patient, guiding your movements with soft praise and the occasional gentle tug in your hair.

“Don’t go too deep,” he said softly. “Use your hand on what you can’t fit. That’s it, fuck. Just like that. God, you’re such a quick learner.”

You looked up at him through your lashes and the sound he made was almost desperate.

“You keep doing that and I’m gonna lose it.”

You hollowed your cheeks, copying what you had seen when you had attempted to watch porn a while ago when you were desperate to get yourself off. You moved your hand in rhythm with your mouth, watching the way his stomach flexed under your touch. He was getting close, you could tell by the way his voice grew rougher, his hips bucking just the slightest.

“Baby- Shit, wait.” He gently pulled your head back just before he was about to cum, even though his body clearly didn’t want to. “Don’t take it in your mouth.”

You blinked up at him, confused, your hand still moving.

He let out a breathy laugh, brushing your hair back from your face.

“It doesn’t taste good. I don’t want that to be your first memory of this.”

You felt heat rise in your cheeks, but his tenderness made it melt into something warm and grateful.

“So what do I do?”

“Just your hand,” he said, voice tight. “Finish me off, just like you were doing. Fuck… you’re doing perfect. Best I’ve ever had.”

You stroked him faster, watching his face as his jaw clenched, his chest rising sharply.

“I’m gonna…” he groaned, eyes locked on yours. “Keep going- yeah, baby, fuck- just like that-”

He came with a hoarse moan of your name, spilling across his stomach and your hand, his muscles tight as a bowstring. You watched, completely mesmerised, as his whole body shuddered under you.

When he opened his eyes again, you were still staring, flushed, curious, a little breathless yourself. You reached out, hesitating for just a second, then dipped your finger into the mess on his stomach.

His brows lifted, surprised.

“Curious little thing, aren’t you?”

You shrugged with a small smirk.

You brought your finger to your lips and tasted it, just a flick of your tongue, your face scrunched a little.

He laughed, low and warm.

“Told you.”

“Yeah,” you said with a wrinkle of your nose. “Not my favourite.”

“But you’re my favourite.” He said, tugging you up toward him, guiding you to straddle his waist again. You lay down on him carefully, bare bodies pressed together, and he kissed your temple, nose, then lips.

“We better clean up.” You suggested, and Noah- still coming down from his orgasm- nodded with a lazy smile.

“Yeah… Good idea.”

You’d both cleaned up quietly, exchanging soft smiles and playful touches as you got dressed again. You were still a little shaky, your heart light and full as Noah grabbed his hoodie from the floor and tugged it over his head, running a hand through his messy hair.

He glanced at you once he was dressed, that gentle, post-orgasm glow still in his eyes.

“You hungry?” he asked, stepping closer to wrap his arms around your waist. “I was thinking I could make us something.”

You looked up at him, pleasantly surprised.

“You cook now?”

He chuckled.

“I mean, I can make a sandwich. That counts, right?”

You smiled and nodded, letting him guide you downstairs to the kitchen. The house was quiet, his friends/roommates left for the party a couple hours ago. And you were definitely not regretting staying in, and you knew Noah wasn’t either.

Noah opened the fridge and started rummaging through ingredients while you leaned against the counter, watching him with fondness in your chest you didn’t quite know what to do with.

“My parents are both away this week,” you said after a moment, your voice a little smaller than before. “Work trips.”

He glanced up, curious.

“Both of them?”

You nodded.

“Yeah. They leave Sunday night. I’ll have the house to myself until Friday.”

Noah froze for a second, then closed the fridge and looked at you fully.

“So you’re gonna be here alone all week?”

You shrugged, trying to sound casual even though the truth tugged at your insides.

“Yeah. It’s not a big deal. I’m used to it. Just… don’t really like going back to being alone after we’ve spent time together, y’know?”

He was quiet for a moment, his eyes softening.

“You don’t have to be alone,” he said. “I can stay.”

Your heart skipped.

“Like, for dinner?”

“No,” he said with a soft chuckle, stepping closer again. “Like… there. With you. I can bring clothes, stay the whole week if you want? Keep you company.”

Your breath caught.

“You’d do that?”

He nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Yeah, of course. You know I’d do anything for you… I mean, if you want me to. We could hang out, watch movies, order takeout. Sleep in the same bed.”

Your lips twitched into a small smile.

“You wanna have sex on every surface in the house?”

“Eventually, yeah.” He smirked, “But I meant I just wanna be there with you. So you don’t feel alone.”

You smiled. There was something so sincere in his voice that it made your heart ache, and the look in his eyes was nothing short of pure love and care.

“Okay,” you said softly. “Stay. Please.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead, then another to your lips, lingering there.

“I will,” he murmured. “Now sit your cute ass down and let me make you the best post sex- or… whatever we just did- sandwich you’ll ever have.”

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i've been doing this shit for years and i STILL cannot proof read my own smut without feeling weird LMAO

@dominuslunae @chey-h @xxkittenkissesxx @theasowle @renegadebirch @super-btstrash-posts @skulla-rxcks @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @ami--gami @h4tef6ck @lilrubles @amelia-acero @uselessperson69 @ichoosetenderomens @dostoievskitty @formula1loversstuff @c0urt-0519 @animal4princess-blog @swissy23

#LOVED writing this part #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian #noah sebastian fanfic #bad omens fanfic #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian imagine #best friend noah #bestfriend noah #untitled bestfriend!noah series #noahsebastian #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens smut

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the-winter-spider · 3 months ago

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I know it wont work | Part One

Bucky x reader AU

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings: Drinking, angst,

A/N: I KNOW i said i wasnt posting this till Yours, Always was done buuuuuuut before i keep writing it because it is FLOWING for this fic i had to see if anyone was even interested lol soooo lemmeee know if you want me to continue this after Yours, Always

Masterpost

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Saturday mornings in the apartment are sacred. The quiet is different, not heavy, not tense. Just still. Like the world finally decided to give you all a break, especially before you all get a little chaotic again…tonight.

Sunlight pours through the dusty windows, catching in the floating particles of last night’s hangover haze. There’s an empty pizza box on the coffee table. Someone, probably Steve, folded a blanket and placed it neatly over the back of the couch like it makes the whole place less of a disaster.

Natasha’s curled in the armchair, black hoodie, hood up, headphones in. She hasn’t spoken to anyone since she woke up, but that’s not weird. That’s just Nat, communication through shrugs, smirks, and sideways glances. You’ve known her long enough to translate.

Steve’s in the kitchen, still making pancakes like they didn’t all come out slightly undercooked last week. He hums when he cooks. It used to annoy you, but now it’s like clockwork. Something solid.

Bucky hasn’t come out of his room yet. But you know he’s awake, the soft glow of his bedroom light slipped under the door before you even stepped into the hallway. You always notice these things when it comes to him. You wish you didn’t.

Most nights, you end up in each other’s beds not for sex, you've never taken anything that far, not even for anything romantic. Just comfort, a habit. A kind of wordless safety you’ve never really been able to explain.

But not last night.

You’re not even sure why. Maybe it had something to do with your father calling in the middle or your usual Friday night hangout. Maybe it was the way you stormed off after, slammed your bedroom door and locked it behind you. You didn’t mean to shut Bucky out, but you did.

He waited outside your door for hours. You found out this morning, Steve mentioned it casually, like it wasn’t a knife to the gut. Said Bucky kept checking the handle, said he looked wrecked.

You passed out before you could let him in.

Now, guilt settles in your chest like cement. But then you remind yourself, he has his own room. His own bed. You’re not together. You don’t owe him everything.

And still… you wish you’d opened the door.

You met Steve and Bucky first. Kids running around the same block with scraped knees and more heart than sense. Bucky was the wild one, fast, sharp, and full of charm even before he knew what to do with it. Steve was smaller back then, but you never saw him that way. He was stubborn as hell and kind to his core. You trusted him before you even knew what trust was.

Natasha came next, around eighth grade. She didn’t talk much at first, just kicked the shit out of a kid who said something about your clothes, and that was that. You were bonded. She didn’t let people in easily but she let you in and that’s never changed.

Sam came in during college. Met Steve in a politics class, argued with him for three weeks straight, and then showed up at your apartment one day with a six-pack and said, “I figured I might as well be friends with the guy who can’t shut up.” You liked him immediately. So did everyone else.

Wanda’s newer. A friend of Nat’s from her job. You’re still getting to know her, but she’s intuitive in a way that’s unsettling. Observant, soft-spoken but never passive. She watches the room like it’s a chessboard and she already knows how it ends.

You wonder what she sees when she looks at you.

You’re guessing it’s a mess.

The thing about your group is: nothing is simple, but somehow it still works.

Everyone’s got their stuff.

Steve can’t stop trying to fix things. He wants everyone to be okay so badly it physically hurts him when they’re not. He’s gotten better at boundaries, but only because Nat threatens him when he forgets to take care of himself.

Nat’s a vault. Loyal, razor-sharp, and terrifying when she’s angry. You love her like a sister. She loves you the same, even if she’ll never say it out loud.

Sam grounds everyone. He’s the calm in the storm, the first one to check in, the last one to judge. You don’t know how he does it, how he holds space for people without ever asking for anything in return. He just does.

And then there’s Bucky. Bucky, who always feels like he’s just on the edge of something. You’ve never known how to categorize him. Not really, he’s like glue, like the anchor holding the ship down.

You’ve tried to shove him into the “best friend” box more times than you can count, but it never quite fits. The way your heart lurches when he laughs, when he looks at you across a room, when he throws his arm across the back of the couch and your skin burns just from being near him, that’s not best friend energy.

But it’s never been the right time or maybe you’ve just never been the right person.

You’re not like him.

Bucky comes from warmth. A single mom who never let the world make him hard. A younger sister he still talks to every week. He knows what love is supposed to feel like.

You don’t, not really, not at all.

Your father was always two drinks too deep and one word too cruel. He didn’t raise you. He happened to you and you learned to flinch first, to run before you could get left behind.

That’s what you do. It’s what you’ve always done. And Bucky? Bucky stays. No matter how many times you’ve pushed him. No matter who else you or he has tried to date. No matter how many fights or false starts or awkward silences or almosts.

He stays and that scares the hell out of you. Because if he stays and you screw it up it’s not just losing a relationship. It’s losing him. Its hurt more because you know it's not a matter of if you lose him, it's a matter of when because you are self aware despite what people thing and that makes you selfish as fuck. And Bucky is good, he is so good.

You are not the glue of the group.

You’re not the leader. You’re not the peacekeeper. You’re not the one people orbit around. You’re the space in between, important, maybe, but not essential. Not the reason this whole thing holds together.

You don’t fit a role the way the others do. Not the way Steve leads, or Nat protects, or Sam balances, or Bucky anchors. You exist somewhere off to the side, shoulder pressed to the wall, watching it all and trying not to feel the slow creep of loneliness that settles in even when you’re surrounded.

That’s the worst part. You’re never really alone. But sometimes it feels like you are. You wonder if they see it. You doubt it. You’ve always been good at hiding things in plain sight.

Your pain’s not loud. It’s not breaking plates or screaming matches. It’s biting your tongue so hard it bleeds. It’s brushing things off with a laugh. It’s slipping out of the room when your chest gets too tight and coming back like nothing happened. It’s saying, “I’m fine,” in a way that sounds almost believable.

They don’t see it because you don’t let them, and you know that’s on you but maybe it’s just what you learned. Because if you say I’m not okay, people start leaving. or worse they stay, but differently, carefully. They stop being honest. They stop touching you the same. They stop looking at you like a person and start looking at you like a project.

Bucky never did that. Not once.

That’s the thing, he knows. Maybe not everything, but enough. Enough to see the cracks. Enough to feel the weight when you start to pull away. Enough to wait outside your door for hours even though you never opened it.

You can still see the way his shadow stayed under the crack. How he didn’t move. How you did.

You always do.

It’s not fair. To him, to anyone. But you don’t know how to stop. You don’t know how to stay without feeling like you’re holding your breath.

How you can be more like him, like Bucky he breathes like it’s easy. He exists like he’s meant to be here. Like love is just something you do. Something you give.

You love him more than you should. More than you can handle. More than you’re ready to admit and it’s not a soft, storybook love. It’s sharp. It’s cracked at the edges. It makes you cruel sometimes. Makes you scared. Makes you push him just to see if he’ll come back.

He always does and you hate yourself for needing that proof so badly. Because he’s good. So fucking good.

You don’t know if you’re capable of being loved like that. Not without ruining it. Not without ruining him. So you just don’t give it, not all the way, never all the way.

You get close. You offer pieces. Just enough to keep him there. Just enough to keep the line from snapping. But not enough to cross it.

You let him hold you when the nightmares come. Let him crawl into bed beside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Let him brush the hair from your face when you’re half-asleep, fingers soft, reverent, like you’re something fragile.

But you never say the words. Not the real ones.

Not I love you.

Not I’m yours.

Not I’m scared shitless and you make me want to try anyway.

Because if you say it, really say it you don’t know what happens next. You don’t know how to be fully seen by someone and not flinch. Not run. You know Bucky deserves someone who doesn’t flinch.

He deserves someone who doesn’t carry years of silence under their skin. Someone who wasn’t raised in a house where love sounded like slammed doors and apologies that came too late. That felt like a burning red cheek and smelt like alcohol.

He deserves warmth, ease. A love that says you’re safe here without ever having to prove it. You want to be that person for him. You do.

But wanting and being are not the same thing. So you stay stuck in this middle place.

This half-space.

The almost.

The ache.

The thing that lives between best friends and something else, you tell yourself it’s enough. You tell yourself he’s fine with it too.

But some nights, like last night when he waits outside your locked door, and you can’t bring yourself to open it, you wonder how many times he’ll do that before he stops. Before he decides that you’re not a thing he wants to wait for anymore, you know, deep down, that if that day ever comes, you won’t stop him.

Because maybe that’s what you deserve.

Maybe that’s what love looks like when it’s given to someone who doesn’t know how to hold it without cutting their own hands.

Nat pulls her headphones down and speaks for the first time that morning. “You’re staring into space like you’re watching your own funeral.”

You blink. “I was just thinking.”

“Don’t,” she says, dry. “You’re terrible at it.”

You smirk. “Love you too.”

Steve leans over the counter. “Are we doing anything today or just sitting around wallowing in existential dread?”

Sam walks through the front door with bagels and answers, “Both.”

It's like clockwork again. The laughter, the comfort, the distractions. The quiet place you’ve all built together.

“We gotta get this place cleaned up for tonight,” Steve says as he flips a pancake.

Natasha groans, “Why do we have to drink both Friday and Saturday?”

Sam steals a piece of bacon from Steve’s cooked plate. “We drink tonight to recover from last night, and so Sunday’s brunch is euphoric.”

Steve sighs. “That’s not how hangovers work.”

“Let me have my process, Rogers.”

You don’t laugh, even though they do.

You’re standing by the counter, half-dressed in your sleep shirt and socks, hair pulled back in a lazy knot. You smear peanut butter across your bagel with practiced, robotic movements. The coffee in your cup has already gone lukewarm. You sip it anyway.

You can feel him before you see him.

Bucky steps out of his room, quiet as ever, and you don’t even have to look to know his eyes go straight to you. You can feel the weight of it, soft, searching, familiar.

You don’t look at him.

You just keep working on your bagel like it’s the only thing tethering you to earth. You sit at the island and eat in silence, chewing slowly while the others talk around you about party themes and drink lists and whether anyone remembered to restock the Advil.

He doesn’t say anything either. But he lingers. You don’t know what’s worse when he pretends nothing is wrong, or when he tries to fix it.

You head to your bathroom once your plate’s clean and your coffee cup is empty. You don’t slam the door this time. You don’t lock it either.

You don’t have the energy for drama today. You’re just tired.

You’re standing at the sink, brushing your teeth with a sluggish kind of motion, when you hear the door click open behind you, the one that connects to Bucky’s room.

You glance at him in the mirror.

“Hey,” he says softly.

You nod, not meeting his eyes. “Hey.”

He steps in, closes the door behind him like he’s careful not to scare you off.

“You okay?”

You rinse and spit. “Yeah.”

He leans against the counter, arms crossed loosely. “What’d your dad want last night?”

Your hands still for half a second as you reach for a towel.

“I didn’t answer,” you say. “It rang and I just… freaked. I was being dramatic.”

Bucky’s quiet.

You keep talking, mostly to fill the silence. “I was sore and tired and kind of drunk and definitely didn’t think things through. I just needed everything to stop for a minute.”

He lets out a small breath of a laugh. “Well, you were definitely intoxicated. That’s not up for debate.”

You smile a little, not much.

He steps closer, gentle. Always gentle with you. His hand lifts and brushes a piece of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering just a second too long against your skin.

“I don’t deserve you,” you say, and it comes out smaller than you meant it to.

He doesn’t blink. “Yes, you do.”

You shake your head. “You’re too good of a friend to me.”

Something shifts in his expression just barely. But you catch it, of course you do because you know what you said. The flicker of hurt that dances behind his eyes before he drops his gaze.

“That’s because I’m your best friend.”

It’s quiet, it’s honest and it fucking stings.

You want to say that’s not what I meant. You want to say that’s not all you are. But you don’t.

He steps closer and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a long, solid hug. His chin rests against the top of your head. Your cheek presses to his chest.

You let your eyes close and breathe him in, for a second, you let yourself imagine that this is enough.

That it could stay like this forever.

Even if you know it can’t.

----------

The music hasn’t started yet. The living room’s still half-lit. Nat’s burning incense in the corner to cover the smell of tequila and whatever Steve tried to cook earlier that went sideways. Everything’s in that perfect, golden-hour chaos, lipstick on the bathroom sink, shot glasses lined up on the kitchen counter, Steve yelling at Sam for not helping clean, and Nat refusing to wear anything other than combat boots with her dress.

It’s your favorite kind of storm.

You’re in your room, touching up your eyeliner, when Natasha leans against the doorframe.

She raises a brow. “You’re gonna cause problems in that.”

You glance down at yourself. Short black dress, off the shoulder. Hugs in all the right places.

You paired it with heels you’ll definitely take off halfway through the night, and your hair’s doing that I don’t care but I care thing that always makes you feel a little dangerous.

You smirk. “Good.”

Nat crosses her arms, smirking right back. “Hot and petty. My favorite version of you.”

You roll your eyes but don’t argue. Because she’s right. You are feeling yourself tonight andd just maybe, that has something to do with the fact that Bucky hasn’t left his room since this morning’s bathroom hug.

The thing about Bucky is you’re addicted to him. To the way he looks at you like you hung the moon. To the way he never touches you without meaning it. To the way his voice softens when he says your name like he’s afraid it might break.

You’re addicted to the attention he gives you, even when you pretend not to be and you know, deep down, if you just let it happen, if you gave in, really gave in there wouldn’t be all this tiptoeing. No games, no passive-aggressive flirting. No lines that feel drawn in sand and rewritten every time you both breathe too hard.

If you opened the door, Bucky would walk through it without hesitation. But you’d probably lock it again the second he did.

Because that’s what you do. That’s what you’ve always done. You cross the line, then backpedal like hell, and he stays. Every time.

But tonight, maybe you’re tired of being scared. Maybe you want to cause a little trouble. Just enough to feel something crack.

Nat’s still watching you, arms crossed, that little knowing smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Are we doing the pre-party shots?” she asks, already moving toward the kitchen.

You follow.

Ten minutes later, the four of you are gathered in the kitchen, like you always are before a party. One bottle, five shot glasses, its tradition.

“Just one?” Steve says.

Nat’s already pouring the second round. “Don’t be soft.”

Sam’s first to show up, he practically lives here already. “Oh, we’re starting early, huh?”

You grin. “Fashionably toxic. You know how it goes.”

Bucky finally steps out of his room. T-shirt clinging to his chest, jeans slung low, rings on his fingers. His hair’s pulled back, and he looks good. Too good.

Your heart does that annoying thing it always does when he walks into a room.

He takes his place beside you at the counter, close. Closer than he has to be. You reach for your shot glass. He reaches for his and just like always, you don’t break eye contact.

Not through the first shot.

Not through the second.

Not when Nat bumps Steve’s arm and whispers something about “Jesus, just kiss already.”

An hour in, the apartment is packed. There’s a playlist running, windows cracked open to let out the heat. People are spilling into the hallway, drinks in hand, sweat glistening on collarbones.

You’re laughing with someone you think his name is Ryan or Riley. One of those, you’re not sure. Doesn’t really matter.

He’s charming enough. He leans in too close, says something that’s probably supposed to be funny, and brushes his hand against your arm like he’s testing the waters.

You laugh. Not because it’s funny, but because you know exactly what you’re doing and because you can feel Bucky watching you.

You don’t turn, you don’t need to, you know. You always know and you hate yourself a little more.

Across the room, Bucky leans against the wall, nursing a half-warm beer he’s barely touched. His eyes haven’t left you since the second Riley-whatever walked up to you.

Steve’s next to him, trying to have a conversation, but Bucky’s checked out. Eyes narrowed, jaw tight.

“Earth to Buck,” Steve mutters, nudging his elbow.

Bucky doesn’t respond.

Sam walks up on his other side, clocking the look instantly. “Oh, come on,” he sighs. “You’re really gonna just stand here and watch her flirt with, what is that guy’s name?”

Steve answers. “Ryan, he goes to my gym, good guy.”

“Does it matter?” Bucky mutters, eyes still glued to you.

Steve snorts. “You’ve got that look, man.”

“What look?”

“The one that says you’re two seconds away from throwing the guy out the window.”

Bucky grunts, taking another sip of his beer. “If you two are trying to be helpful, you’re not.”

Sam raises a brow. “Helpful would be you walking over there and saying something that isn’t ‘you okay?’ or 'you need another drink?’”

Bucky doesn’t laugh, doesn’t smile. He’s stuck in it now, in his head. Because the thing is, he’s not mad at you, he’s never been and never will be. He’s mad at himself. For waiting, for hoping. For standing here like he always does, watching you shine for someone else.

“It’s not that simple,” Bucky says, voice low.

Sam rolls his eyes. “It’s exactly that simple. You’re in love with her. She’s in love with you. End of math.”

Steve sighs. “We’ve been telling him for years.”

“No,” Bucky snaps, still not looking away from you. “You don’t get it.”

Sam raises his brow. “Then explain it.”

“She doesn’t trust it. Not the way I do.” He shifts his jaw. “If I say it out loud, it makes it real. That’s the part that’ll scare her.”

Steve softens. “Buck…”

“I’m not mad at her for that,” Bucky says, finally turning to them. “But I know her. If I push too hard, if I ask for all of her…she’ll run.”

Sam studies him for a long second. “And what? You’d rather live in the middle of this forever?”

Bucky looks back toward you. You’re laughing again, the guy leans in closer.

You don’t lean away.

“I’d rather have half of her than none at all.”

Steve exhales slowly, leans back against the wall. “There’s no pushing to do, Buck. You’ve been there since you were kids. Neither of you are going anywhere.”

That’s the problem, because maybe you should have gone somewhere by now. Maybe you both should’ve run when you had the chance.

But here you are still orbiting each other like you don’t know how to stop and he’s still standing there, with a full heart and empty hands, watching someone else reach for what he’s never been brave enough to ask for.

Bucky drains the rest of his beer, jaw clenched tight, then pushes off the wall and disappears into the crowd.

You don’t notice it right away. You’re too busy pretending you’re not watching for him. But eventually, your eyes drift…they always do.

You spot him in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter. He’s talking to some girl, dark curls, low-cut top, pretty in that effortless kind of way. She’s touching his arm, laughing then laughs, too.

Not the forced kind. The real kind, the one you always think is just for you, your stomach twists.

You smile too quickly at something Ryan (or Riley?) says, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You’re not even sure what he said. Doesn’t matter. None of it does, except Bucky.

It always comes back to him. So you play your part.

You lean in a little closer. Let your fingers graze Ryan’s forearm. Let your laugh ring just a little too loud. You toss your hair over your shoulder like you’re in a movie scene you don’t believe in.

You know what you’re doing.

You’re not the only one.

Across the room, Steve groans under his breath. “Here we go again.”

Sam glances up from his drink. “Already?”

Steve nods toward the kitchen. “He’s doing the flirt-and-deflect.”

Sam squints. “Which one’s she doing?”

Natasha, sliding in beside them with a drink in hand, answers before either of them can. “She’s doing the ‘fuck it, I can flirt too’ thing. It’ll escalate in five minutes. Ten tops.”

Wanda, beside her, blinks. “Is this a regular thing?”

Natasha smirks. “Every time.”

Steve nods, resigned. “They’ve been stuck in this cycle since highschool.”

Sam chuckles. “They invented the cycle.”

Wanda frowns. “So what happens next?”

Steve and Nat answer at the same time.

“Shots.”

Sure enough, twenty minutes later, you’ve ditched Ryan (or Riley, he never stood a chance) and you’re lined up in the kitchen with Sam, laughing as he holds a beer funnel above your head.

Bucky walks over, still warm from the attention he let himself soak in, but his eyes are already back on you. He sees you, head tilted back, mouth open in a wide grin, beer spilling down your wrist as you finish the pour and slam the cup on the counter.

You’re glowing and a little reckless. He hates how much he loves it.

“Jesus,” he mutters to Steve, who hands him another beer. “She’s gonna feel that tomorrow.”

Steve shrugs. “You always do.”

Sam throws an arm around your shoulder, both of you breathless from laughing.

Bucky’s jaw ticks. He walks over, leans on the counter beside you, too close for it to be casual.

“Didn’t know we were reliving college tonight,” he says, looking you over.

You raise your brows, voice syrupy sweet. “Didn’t know we were competing for who could flirt harder.”

His smile is razor-thin. “You winning?”

You take a slow sip of your drink. “Obviously.”

You’re both playing the same game and you’re both losing. But neither of you backs down.

You break eye contact first not because you want to, but because staying in it feels too much like telling the truth.

So you slip away.

Back into the crowd, into the noise and the blur and the bass pounding through your chest. You find someone else, some guy with warm hands and a beer in one of them and a smile that’s trying a little too hard.

You let him talk, let him flirt. Let him touch your leg under the table with fingers that don’t mean anything.

You laugh at something he says and feel his hand drift a little higher, and for a moment, it almost works, you almost forget. Until you glance up and see him.

Bucky’s across the room again. Back with the girl from earlier. Only this time, he’s not leaning. He’s close. His body tilted toward her, head bent low, voice soft. She’s laughing, smiling up at him like he’s hers.

And then he reaches out, slow and deliberate, and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear.

Like it’s nothing.

Like it’s not something he’s only ever done to you.

Your chest tightens.

Something sour blooms in your throat. It feels like bile or heartbreak. You can’t tell the difference anymore.

You stand abruptly, muttering something to the guy that even you don’t hear, and make your way toward the hallway.

You need to breathe.

You need to not cry.

You need to get out before it shows.

You slip into the bathroom, shut the door, and press your back against it. The silence hits you like a wave. You’re not even mad at him. That’s the worst part, you are not even allowed to be.

You started it. You always start it and now you’re here again, locking yourself in a room because the only person who knows how to get under your skin is the one you’re supposed to trust the most.

You stare at yourself in the mirror. Eyes too bright, chest rising too fast.

And before you can even try to pull it together, you hear the door on the other side creak open the one that connects to his room. You don’t even turn. “Seriously?” you say, flat, arms crossed.

Silence, then a sigh. “I could say the same to you.” He steps in, jaw set, closing the door behind him. “You don’t even know him.”

You throw your hands up. “Oh, I’m sorry, are you my keeper now?”

He steps closer. “You’re flirting with some asshole who only cares that you look good in that dress.”

You turn slowly, leaning back against the sink. “So now you care?”

His eyes flicker. “I’ve always cared.”

You laugh, sharp and bitter. “Yeah, until it’s convenient to touch someone else.”

His jaw tenses. “You were letting some guy run his hand up your leg in the middle of the living room.”

“So what?” You raise your brows, daring him. “You didn’t like that?”

“No, I fucking hated it.”

“Right,” you laugh, bitter. “But you? You get to flirt with every warm body in a five-foot radius and I’m supposed to just smile?”

He shakes his head. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to act like you give a damn only when someone else looks at me.”

You scoff. “You think I’m acting?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then he adds, quieter, “I know why you did it.”

You go still.

“You wanted me to see.”

You scoff, look away. “You’re delusional.”

“Don’t do that,” he snaps. “Don’t pretend like we’re not both playing the same goddamn game.”

“I wasn’t playing,” you say, voice hard.

His laugh is humorless. “Bullshit.”

You push off the sink, stepping closer. “And what about you, Bucky? You think you’re innocent in all this?”

“I never claimed to be.” He moves in too, closer, crowding the space. “But at least I own how I feel. You? You keep running, then blaming me for chasing you.”

“I never asked you to chase me.”

“You didn’t have to.” His voice drops. “I want to.”

You stare at him, breathing heavy. Your chest tight, eyes burning, it's quiet, the kind that means too much has been said or not enough.

His hands find your face before you can stop him, thumb brushing under your jaw, eyes searching yours, like gravity, like you’re not even deciding, you kiss him.

It’s messy, desperate. His hands on your waist, your fingers in his hair, his mouth on yours like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your pain.

Your back hits the bathroom wall. His hands are in your hair, your hands gripping his shirt, pulling him closer. He kisses like he’s angry, like he’s trying to prove a point like he’s been holding it back for years.

You bite his bottom lip, he groans against your mouth. His hands slide down, grip your waist like he needs something to hold onto or he’ll fall apart.

You press into him like you’re trying to crawl under his skin. He lets you.

His fingers skim the hem of your dress and you gasp into his mouth and then you both pull back. Breathing like you’ve just run a mile. He rests his forehead against yours. You both say nothing because that’s the rule.

You kiss him like you’re drowning, he kisses you like he doesn’t care if he drowns with you.

But then you hear it.

“Yo! Y/N, you doing another one?!” Sam’s voice, faint from down the hall.

You pull back, breathless, lips swollen, and avoid his eyes as you fix your shirt. Bucky’s chest rises and falls, his hands still half on you.

You force a laugh, one that sounds like it might crack in the middle. “Guess I’m up.”

Bucky grabs your wrist, gently. “Don’t you think that’s enough for tonight?”

You pause. “You’ve never been in my head, Buck.” You try to keep it light, say it like a joke but it lands heavy. “You don’t get to tell me when enough’s enough.”

His eyes soften with hurt. He doesn’t fight you on it.

You stare at Bucky, still breathless from the kiss you weren’t supposed to want but always do. Your lips are swollen, your body still humming.

He steps back, barely. He won’t meet your eyes. His voice is low, unreadable. “Go first.”

You frown. “What?”

He nods toward the door. “Go. So it’s not… obvious.”

You let out a breathy, humorless laugh. “It already is.”

He flinches, just slightly. “Still.”

You linger for a second, but he doesn’t look up. So you leave.

You unlock the bathroom door, step into the hallway, and just like that? You’re back in the noise and the lights and the warmth of the party. You exhale. Fix your hair in the hallway mirror. You’re good at this. Pretending.

When you re-enter the living room, you make a beeline for Sam, who’s standing on a chair holding a funnel like a trophy. “You ready?” he grins.

You smirk and take your place beside him. “Let’s go.”

Bucky stays in the bathroom, staring at the door you just walked through.

He presses the heel of his palm into his chest like that’ll do anything. Like he can stop the familiar ache that’s been there for years, the one with your name carved into it.

He breathes in deep, hands braced against the sink. You’re poison and home all at once and he’d let you break his heart over and over and over again….If it meant he could keep even the smallest piece of you.

This is the part that always gets him, the in-between. The silence after your lips leave his and before you’re laughing with someone else.

The space where he remembers that he’s not yours, not officially, not fully. Not ever. He stares at the door for a long time. You’d live in purgatory forever with him if he let you. If he stayed and he always stays.

When he comes back out, the party’s louder, looser. The guy you were flirting with earlier is now talking to the girl he was talking to earlier, and Bucky actually chuckles at that. Inevitable.

He heads toward the kitchen where Steve and Sam are talking by the drinks.

“You alive?” Sam asks, handing him a beer.

“Barely,” Bucky mutters, taking a swig.

Steve raises a brow. “You good?”

“Great,” Bucky lies.

“You two playing or what?” Sam nods toward the beer pong table.

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “Me and her.”

Beer pong. Teams: You and Bucky vs. Sam and Steve.

You’re two drinks deep, flushed and laughing, heels long since ditched. Bucky stands behind you, guiding your arms. His hands are at your waist. They don’t move, you sink a shot. Turn and grin.

“Nice,” he murmurs, low in your ear.

You spin and wrap your arms around his neck, and he catches you without thinking. When you remove your hands from his beck they slither around his waist, your hand slips just under his shirt, thumb brushing the warmth of his stomach. You don’t even realize it until he tenses slightly. You don’t pull away and he doesn’t want you to.

You’re always like this. All over each other by the end of the night, but never too far and never far enough.

Sam just shakes his head. “Disgusting.”

Across the room, Wanda and Natasha are watching. Wanda takes a slow sip of her drink. “This is… normal?”

“Since we were kids,” Nat replies dryly. “You should’ve seen them at twenty, when we first moved here. Like magnets, messy ones.”

Wanda tilts her head. “So what’s the deal?”

Nat smirks. “There’s a bet.”

Wanda perks up. “A bet?”

“Been running almost ten years.”

Wanda laughs. “Who’s in?”

“Me, Steve, Sam. We all have different takes.”

Wanda glances back at you wrapped around Bucky’s back, squealing with laughter while he spins you through the living room. He’s smiling so big it almost hurts to look at.

“You want in?” Nat asks.

Wanda hums. “What’s the buy-in?”

Nat lifts a brow. “Fifty bucks.”

Wanda watches you a second longer. “Ask me in the morning.”

Nat clinks her glass against hers. “Smart girl.”

--------

You and Bucky vanish from the party somewhere around 2AM.

You’re both giggling, tipsy, bumping into doorframes as you stumble down the hall. You don’t even say goodnight to the others anymore. Everyone knows the drill.

You’re in your room first, slipping out of your dress and into one of Bucky’s old shirts. He knocks once, then opens the door and closes it behind him.

You crawl into bed, he follows. You lay there, back to chest. His arm finds your waist like gravity. Neither of you speaks, until he does.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever felt more like home than you do.”

You don’t breathe, you don’t say anything. You just find his hand under the blanket and hold it a little tighter.

-----------

You wake up slow.

The kind of slow that feels like safety. Like warmth, like something you don’t get to keep, but you can hold onto for a few more minutes if you stay very, very still.

Bucky’s arm is still wrapped around you, his body curled along your back, his breath warm against the side of your neck. His chest rises and falls steady, grounding. You shift just slightly and his grip tightens instinctively.

You don’t move again. You just… take him in.

The weight of his arm. The shape of his hand resting at your waist. The way your legs are tangled under the blankets like they always end up this way.

You shouldn’t feel this way about your best friend, but you do.

You know you love him. Not the way you’re supposed to love your best friend. Not the safe kind, not the platonic kind. The kind that could gut you if it ever turned the wrong way.

And that’s the problem because love, for you, has never been clean. It’s always been a little cruel. It showed up in raised voices. Slammed doors. Silence used like a weapon. It made promises it never kept. It came with strings. With people who said, I’m doing my best as an excuse for not doing better.

So somewhere along the line, you learned not to trust the word at all.

You learned to leave before you could be left. To withhold before anyone could take too much. To build your walls higher than your expectations. To call it strength when really, it was fear.

Bucky makes all of that harder to hold onto.

Because he doesn’t demand anything. Doesn’t rush you. Doesn’t punish you for the days you go quiet, or shut down, or need more space than anyone else would understand.

He just stays and somehow that’s more terrifying than all the people who left. Because you can trust Bucky with your life, you already do.

But trusting him with your heart? That’s something else entirely. That’s the kind of trust you’ve never been brave enough to give. Not because he doesn’t deserve it.

But because deep down, you’re scared that if he ever really saw the mess of you, the parts you hide, the sharp edges, the soft places turned hard from too many years of being let down he’d walk too and that would wreck you in a way nothing else ever has.

Because he’s not just anyone.

He’s Bucky.

He’s home.

You don’t know how to let yourself have something that feels like that. You only know how to ruin it before it can leave on its own.

So instead, you stay here. Pretending you’re not already in it deep, and fully, and hopelessly in love with someone you’ve spent your whole life calling a friend.

You close your eyes.

You try not to want too much.

He shifts behind you, breath catching, arm tightening just a little.

You feel him wake before he says a word.

Your fingers lift on their own, tracing lightly down the line of his cheek. He stirs, blinks. Opens his eyes. His voice is soft. Rough. “Hi.”

You smile. “Hi.”

He tightens his arm around you, pulling you a fraction closer. His thumb rubs a lazy circle into your side.

You just… look at each other. A long, quiet moment. Then your stomach growls, loud.

His lips twitch. “Hungry?”

You close your eyes and laugh into the pillow. “Apparently.”

He grins, voice still low. “All right. Let’s go yell at everyone to get up. Get some brunch.”

You nod. “Okay.”

He repeats it back. “Okay.”

He shifts onto his back, pulling you with him so you’re suddenly straddling him, and his hands land on your hips like muscle memory. His eyes rake over your face, your messy hair, his own t-shirt hanging loose on you.

“What a sight,” he says quietly, like he doesn’t mean for it to come out loud.

You blink once. Then lean down and kiss his cheek. “Yeah. What a sight.”

You climb off of him and he lets you go, head falling back against the pillow with a soft groan as you head into the bathroom.

You’re in the shower when you hear him move around your room. Hear the door shut quietly behind him a few minutes later. You close your eyes and lean your head against the tile, let the water rinse last night off your skin, but not out of your mind.

When you emerge, he’s already dressed, running a towel through his hair. You pass him on the way to your room, trade a glance and a small smile like you’re not both still spinning from whatever the hell you are.

The house is awake now. Loud, chaotic, full of movement and coffee and half-shouted plans.

Sam’s standing in the living room holding a speaker. “I swear to God if someone plays that sad indie playlist again—”

Natasha sips her coffee without looking up. “It’s Bucky’s playlist.”

Steve enters with his phone out. “I found two good spots. One’s a walk, the other has bottomless mimosas.”

You grab a hoodie and slide it on. “Lead the way, Stevie.”

Steve groans, “I told you I’m too close to 30 for that nickname.”

You smirk. “Okay, yeah sure Stevie.”

He rolls his eyes.

Outside, the air is cool and bright.

The six of you fall into formation like you always do. You and Sam walking up front, shoulders bumping, laughing about something dumb. You’ve got your own rhythm, your own jokes, your own language. He sees you in ways the others don’t, and he doesn’t ask about the night before.

You love him for that.

Behind you, Bucky and Steve are deep in some low conversation probably about sports or politics or something overly philosophical because it’s them.

At the back, Wanda’s walking with Natasha, watching all of you like she’s watching a sitcom unfold in real time.

Wanda glances between you and Bucky, her brow creased in quiet disbelief. “So it's a regular thing?” she asks.

Natasha links arms with her. “You’ll get used to it, my friend.”

Wanda shakes her head, stunned. “They sleep in the same bed.”

Nat shrugs. “Mmhm.”

“They kiss.”

“Mmhm.”

“They act like a couple.”

“Exactly.”

Wanda frowns. “So… what are they?”

Natasha sighs. “Stupid.”

Wanda laughs.

Natasha goes on. “So the bet started ever since we all moved here when we were twenty. Steve thinks they’ll figure it out before thirty. I think they’re gonna marry other people first.”

Wanda blinks. “That’s… dark.”

“I’m not wrong.” Natasha shrugs. “Sam said before 25 but that's gone and past, so he had to buy in again but double the price to place a new bet, he now says before 32.”

Wanda hums. “I give it a year.”

Nat nearly chokes on her coffee. “Excuse me?”

“I give it a year.”

Nat raises an eyebrow. “You wanna bet?”

Wanda reaches into her pocket, pulls out a crumpled fifty, and slaps it into Nat’s hand.

Nat grins, holds it up like a flag. Steve and Sam are now walking together, glance back, see the money, and groan.

“Really?” Steve mutters.

Sam just laughs. “They’ll never know.”

But neither of you notice.

You’re too busy jumping on Bucky’s back, laughing in his ear, while he hoists you up with zero effort and carries you the rest of the way to brunch.

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sp1d3rzz · 5 months ago

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How about Shikamaru x reader who is possessive/jealous? Other characters would be great too if you feel up to it!

WARNING !! : Fluff, Kiba being a little shit. Lemme know if I missed anything!!

Featuring : Shikamaru Nara, and Kiba Inuzuka.

A/N : Most definitely, anon! Here ya go (*´꒳`*)

Shikamaru isn't one to monitor other people's lives and meddle in their business. In fact, he finds it annoying enough that his own duties take up most of his free time. So it makes no sense for him to keep close watch on you when he wouldn't bother to do the same for his other friends.

He spends the time he has off sparring with you—never bothering to ask since you somehow always beat him to it. Secretly, the favoritism you show towards him only makes his possession of you grow stronger. It especially doesn't help when you throw yourself onto him and shower praises of how generous he is for helping you, thanking him over and over again until he's forced to pry you off. He'll give you an unbothered shrug and claim it's the least he can do for someone so kind.

It doesn't take long for him to realize this small favor he commits to isn't just because you're an acquaintance of his, but rather he finds you special compared to the others. There's something about you that keeps him wondering when the next time he might be able to see you will be. Sure, it's a daily routine where you come and ask a favor, saying he's the only one you trust to help since he always gets the job done right. What is there to worry when he knows you'll come to him every time with no hesitation?

Wrong.

He waits all day for a knock at his door, your shy voice behind it as you ask him to let you in. Perhaps if he went on a walk through the village with a bored frown plastered on his face, you'd magically appear and give him a reason to turn it upside down. Though time passes by quickly, and he realizes that you wont be coming around after all. It hurts more than he believed it would, overwhelming himself with endless questions on why you hadn't showed up like you normally do.

Days go by where he doesn't see or hear from you, and thats when panic settles in. Have you found someone else to take care of you and keep you company? Or pick another guy to be one of your favorites? He grinds his teeth together at the thought of some loser stealing his place as your number one choice. Embarrassingly, he grows slightly insecure the longer about the matter. Had he not been enough to maintain your attention and satisfy you?

Finally, he decides to go search for you himself, not wasting a second before he's running out the house and all over the village. He checks all your favorite restaurants to eat at, all your preferred stores, and even at your own apartment. Each stop is just another block of worry building up in his body, leading him to go practically crazy.

Then suddenly it clicks in his brain that you must be at your usual training spot. Why hadn't he thought of that before? There isn't a moment where he doesn't have over 100 options mapped out in his head, especially when it comes to you. But pushing that aside, he jumps from tree to tree, scanning all over the forest to catch glimpse of you.

It's not until he reaches your reserved training spot does he hear the giggle he's memorized in his mind more times than he count. Though to his surprise you're not alone, because he makes out another figure beside you. He groans at the recognizable hair, never expecting his best friend Choji, to be there.

He jumps down from the leaf covered branch of a tree, landing steadily on his feet. The look on your face when you notice his presence is full of guilt. You seem scared that he's finally caught you, pressing your lips together and stiffening your body. It'd be cute if what he'd come across wasn't so aggravating.

"This where you've been everyday?" Shikamaru says nonchalantly, though his eyes tell a different story. Choji immediately turns toward him at his words, revealing stained teeth with a welcoming smile. It's clear his best friend has no clue of tension stringing between you and him with how normal he's acting. After all, he'd hate to ruin a friendship over a girl that may not even feel the same way he does.

He knows Choji means no harm because for as long as they've been friends, there'd been a strong sense of understanding. And with that being said, how could someone like him ever compete with someone 10 times better? With all due respect, of course. "Oh, Shikamaru! Hey man, how've you—" But the sentence is cut short by a now annoyed voice.

"Could you leave us for a moment? There's something we need to talk about." His eyes don't blink not once, rather remained glued to yours. Choji mumbles a small 'okay' and disappears into the forest, leaving you and him alone at last. Slight breezes of wind brush past your hair, lifting pieces up with it.

Aside from gentle gusts, it's quiet. An uncomfortable silence as you both stand still in waiting of the other to speak. "You didn't answer my question earlier." He mumbles, folding his arms against his chest. His eyes watch you swallow down nothing but air, probably out of nervousness. "Look— I haven't been avoiding you I've just been... well, busy." The look on your face screams bullshit, but he knows you've never been a good liar anyways.

"Busy running off and not bothering to show up and let me know you're okay? How considerate of you." He lets his arms fall to his sides as he slowly approaches you. His footsteps are meant to taunt you, to rush you for an actual honest answer. And of course it works, making you not so discreetly tap a finger against your pants while coming up with a choice.

He's gets closer and closer, fighting back a small smirk that twitches his lip upwards. The awkward silence coming from you doesn't seem to help that much either. "Okay fine." You clench your fist and face him head on, suddenly with bravery. "I didn't want to annoy you with my constant nagging for your help. You just come off as annoyed and uninterested, so I figured i'd give you some space."

Shikamaru had considered that being one of the possibilities, but it didn't make sense to him at the moment. Once he comes close enough to your body, it's easy to notice the way you flinch away. In spite of that, he reaches his arms out to pull you close into a tight hug. He can hear the little gasp that leaves your lips from how close you are to him.

"Yet I still do everything you ask of me anyways." He squeezes tighter. "I'd do anything you told me to. Don't ever try and avoid me again, alright?" Pressing a small peck to your forehead, you blush. He can't see it, but he can surely imagine. And deep down he hopes you never go as far as ditching him for another guy ever again, or next time he won't be as nice.

From the very beginning of your friendship, Kiba had always been overprotective over you. Staring down every boy who so much as dared to look your direction, picking a fight with sore losers that tried to make a pass at you, and plenty more. He'd always been territorial over the things he valued, so why would you be any different?

You'd been so nice to him, as well as everyone or anything. A part of him liked to believe he was special to you, someone who you could trust and turn to in any given situation. In fact, he'd say he was all you needed in life. He could keep you safe and happy, loving you with everything he had to offer.

Though after a while of his delusions, he soon began to realize he wasn't the only important person in your life. He realized this the day he took you out to eat at Ichiraku Ramen, excited that the two of you were basically on a date, despite you not knowing. But what he never expected was for someone to come in and ruin his evening alone with you.

Shino, his close friend decided on stealing the attention away from him and making it his own. You had welcomed him to sit next to you, insisting the three of you could enjoy time together as a group. And sure enough, the bug lover apathetically accepted and took the seat right of yours.

The whole time was essentially torture for Kiba, having to sit there and watch you giggle with the audacity of letting someone other than him entertain you. He swears a vein would pop out of his forehead every time you so sweetly smiled at another's words. It wouldn't help the anger flowing throw him when he'd make a snarky comment against his friend, only to be gently scolded by you.

"C'mon, be nice today. I just want to peacefully eat a meal without any problems." You'd sigh, picking up more noodles with your chopsticks to slurp up. The words left him frustrated, yet for the sake of you he managed to stay respectful the rest of the time. But how could you recognize his dislikes and still push it aside with no sympathy? The thought puzzled his mind.

A couple hours passed as you kept conversation with Shino, and he was beginning to grow impatient. How could someone so plain be getting this much attention from someone like you? And last time he checked, the two of you were never close before. It made no sense how a weirdo like his friend could ever pull someone like you, perfect in every way possible.

When you finally finish your meal and call in quits for the night, he slaps yours and his fee onto the counter and says his thanks to the old man, grabbing your wrist to drag you from the booth and away from Shino. "Wait— Kiba! Why are you rushing me out of there? I didn't even get to say bye!" He holds back a growl at your shouts, ignoring the people who stare and whisper at the scene. All that mattered was getting you far away from that ramen shop so he could at last spend one-on-one time with you.

"Let me go!" With a tug of your arm, his grip is released and you stumble backward. This time a noise does escape him, quickly turning around to bark out a complaint, but you beat him to it. "What's going on with you? This whole day it's like you've been so–" You stumble for words, rubbing the reddened mark on your wrist.

Kiba rolls his eyes and shoves his hands into his pockets, avoiding your gaze. "Annoyed?" He mumbles, finishing your sentence. You nod your head, keeping silent to await his much needed explanation. He resists at first, but shortly realizes your stubbornness wouldn't be that simple to overcome.

"Fine. It just..." A breath rolls into his lungs, is held, and then is released. "It pisses me off seeing you all friendly with another guy. Makes it worse with him being my friend too." The words aren't easy to admit, given the blushed tint that paints his cheeks with embarrassment.

He watches your furrowed brows relax and eyes soften, but he doesn't expect you to tilt your head to the side and giggle. Had he said something stupid? Is that why you were now tenderly laughing in front of his face? "What's so funny?" He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Y'know if you're gonna laugh at me like this every time I open up, then–"

His words are abruptly interrupted due to your arms being slung around him. You pull him closer to you in an attempt to soothe his frustrations, nuzzling your head right below his chin. His body stiffens up and heat travels up his neck, flustered from the sudden contact.

The two of you keep quiet to bask in the moment until he can't take the feeling of you pressed against him much longer. Clearing his throat to give you a hint, you pick up on it but hesitate. "I'm sorry I made you feel like that. Next time, i'll be more aware." you whisper into his chest, giving one last squeeze before pulling away.

Kiba remains standing stiffly, face redder than a strawberry. If he had a tail, it'd be wagging right about now.

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ttdamian · 21 days ago

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I apologize for erm not updating for like 2 weeks... i've been very unmotivated to write and even thought of quitting (´∀｀；) but hello hi i wont do that... as apology please take this little snippet of the next chapter i just started working on. Thank you so much for all the support as well, it has really been the reason why i keep writing.

It had been two weeks.

Fourteen days of waking up in sheets that didn’t feel like yours.

Fourteen nights of lying awake in a bed too big, too stiff, too quiet.

The silence here wasn’t peace. It was something else. Something heavier.

The kind that pressed on your chest when the lights went out.

The kind that made you flinch at every creak in the floorboards—because even the house itself seemed to sigh in disappointment when you moved.

Wayne Manor wasn’t a home. It was a museum of people who used to matter. Every hallway whispered someone else’s name. Every photo on the wall looked like it had been taken just to be seen by the world, not remembered by a family.

You weren’t part of the curation. You were something left in the margins. A misprint in an otherwise perfect collection.

And nothing had changed.

Bruce still hadn’t looked at you.

Not directly.

Not once.

You’d memorized the angles of his avoidance.

The way his eyes would land just past your shoulder.

The way his footsteps would speed up when he heard yours down the hall.

The way he spoke only when he had to, and never in words meant for you.

He was the kind of absent that didn’t need distance.

And Alfred… Alfred tried.

You saw it in the soft way he said your name. In the tea left outside your door that was always still warm. In the way he didn’t flinch when you asked the question you already knew the answer to.

“Why won’t he talk to me?”

Alfred’s pause was long. Weighted. Then, in a voice full of gentle regret:

“He’s grieving, Miss. He sees… her. When he sees you.”

Her.

Your mother.

The ghost you wore on your face.

In your laugh. Your smile. The slope of your nose.

Maybe that was why Bruce couldn’t bear to look at you. Because you weren’t just a reminder of what he lost. You were living proof that she’d been here, once—and that she was never coming back.

So, you tried. You really, truly tried.

Tried to stay quiet.

Tried to make yourself small enough not to bother him.

Tried to be good—whatever that meant in a house that didn’t know what to do with you.

But the thought still came, uninvited, gnawing at the edge of your mind.

‘He could still grieve… and love me.’

It repeated like a heartbeat. Soft. Steady. Inevitable.

You hated yourself for thinking it.

Hated the way it made you feel—needy, demanding, like a child too greedy for affection.

Selfish.

You were being selfish.

That’s what you told yourself.

That’s what your mother would’ve said, wouldn’t she?

She raised you to be reasonable. To be patient. To understand that people were made of hurts you couldn’t always see.

She raised you to make room for other people’s pain.

But still…

Still you wondered why no one seemed willing to make room for yours.

Some nights you cried into the pillow just to feel something warm. Some mornings you looked in the mirror and tried to smile, just to see if you still could. The reflection didn’t feel like you anymore. You didn’t recognize the girl with the tired eyes and the hope she kept crushing down like it was dangerous.

The girl who had stopped expecting good things a long time ago.

The girl who was trying so hard not to ask for anything, just in case the answer was silence.

At first, it hurt—like ripping out something soft and fragile from your own chest.

But then came the numbness.

The slow settling of silence in your bones.

The quiet understanding that maybe some things just weren’t meant for you.

You started telling yourself it was fine. That you didn’t need him to say your name.

Didn’t need him to see you.

Didn’t need to be loved by someone who’d already chosen to forget you existed.

And maybe—if you said it enough times—you’d start to believe it.

Because what other choice did you have? The longer the silence lasted, the more it started to feel like a kind of answer. Like absence was just another way of saying no.

No, he wouldn’t come around.

No, you weren’t part of this family.

No, he didn’t want you.

Not here.

Not now.

Maybe not ever.

So, you stopped waiting.

And instead, you began to move through the house like a ghost. Quiet. Careful. Always out of the way. You learned which floorboards to avoid. Which rooms were safest to cry in. Which corners let you disappear just enough.

The walls never stopped groaning when you passed. Like even they were tired of your footsteps.

Like even they knew:

You didn’t belong here.

And maybe—just maybe—you were starting to believe it too.

taglist : @cssammyyarts @wendee-go @sadeem575 @c4xcocoa @time-shardz @whaaaaaaaaat111 @noone1233nobody @justanerd1 @bbmgirll @bakuraloverr @myjumper @cupid73 @lordbugs @cheappremingerfromdelululand @lovebug-apple @justafank @chemicalwindexbottle @welpthisisboring @totallynotacat13 @nininehaaa @yuyuzi-ling @yarn-mony @eyeless-kun

#🪞. dc #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #yandere!batfam #batfam x reader

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mysteriousl0ser · 1 year ago

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FUCK IT, TADC EP 2 THOUGHTS MAJOR SPOILERS!! BE WARNED

LETS GO!! Pomni is still pretty screwed up over her first day here, I mean this is all fresh and new to her so like DUH. everyone else here is somewhat or entirely adjusted and kind of just cope with the fact that theyre here I dont think pomni has really processed how long theyve been here?? In the pilot she seems SO bothered by how okay they are with this and willingness to do caines fuckass adventures

i dont blame her, anywho pomni in her nightmare-induced state starts to abstract, she had to face an abstraction early on in her days here which like have to be pretty truamatizing (duh) and cried out to ANYONE, but where she called for help literally no one helped her “oh well” they though

Pomni doesn't feel like anybody else cares, shes the only one whos still going through an adjustment phase and freaking the fuck out while everyone else is just going along with the adventure, something she still thinks is kinda pointless and doesn't get why anybody would waste their time here doing when they COULD be looking for a way out, why is she the only one who seems to still be distressed here? To feel lost? At least from her perspective, it seems that way. Unfortunately, these people have already been here for a while.

Pomski then meets someone whos just like her, their whole reality was shattered and they don't belong anywhere, mirroring how pomni feels at the moment, even if she still has some sort of grip now vs when she first got here

And she finds comfort in that!!! Why is it that this NPC feels more real than the ACTUAL REAL PEOPLE trapped here with her??? Whatever the reason, its something to hold onto. Something to LATCH onto. Hes Real. or at least he feels real, and maybe she feels like she belongs with him because at least he knows the feeling, something shes not really felt w anyone else before

This comfort and solidarity she has with gumigoo is shortlived however as she gets brutally reminded that he wasnt real. The anchor she had vanished and there's quite literally nobody to catch her fall.

And i feel like ragatha trying to comfort her the way she did didnt help AT ALL. it was kinda a sore reminder that gumigoo is easily replaceable, and GOD thats so frustrating?? This thing felt so real to her and nobody seems to care that he just vanished!! If they could be so apathetic to this whos to say they wont just treat her demise just the same as she thought they would???

But then something important happens. They have a funeral for Kaufmo, someone whos been established to be their friend way before Pomni ever came here. And maybe it didn't ever settle in before that kaufmo was a real person! Literally!! And he was real to them. Just like gumigoo though less directly they relate to being in pain and kind of in shock of losing someone who they cared about and who was a real person to care about to them AND LIKE YOU CAN SEE WHERE IT CLICKS IN HER FACIAL EXPRESSION HERE, THE CHANGE IN HER EYES AND THE WAY HER EXPRESSION LOSENS AT THIS IDK IT DRIVES ME CRAZY GOD THE ANIMATORS WENT OFF W THIS EP VS THE PILOT IM IM IM

anyways anyways They have their funeral service, theres quite literally no reason for anyone to just lie and go along with whatever bs caines got going on, this also quite literally has nothing to do with him. This is kind of their own little way of keeping some sort of human traditions and respect for the human persons that get stuck here because they care. HELL you can even see pomni feel a little guilty here when ragatha says that his funeral was disrupted cause she arrived here

anyways thats exactly it!! They fucking car!! This whole time pomni thought that they just didnt care and were kind of apathetic or downright patronizing her over all this and mocking her or whatnot, like in her dream sequence. But no, they all talk respectively about their memories and experiences with kaufmo, the things they shared together and the feelings they had. EVERYBODY was grieving. Ragatha who always tried to put on some cheerful and kind of irritating (to pomni at least) everythings fine facade (which also kind of feels less real to her at least i think so but i don't think she figured it to be a coping mechanism) to just straight up start crying and breaking up a bit, even mentioning how this does not ever get any easier and how shes had to deal with this plenty of times before.

Zooble the usually apathetic and kind of asshole who keeps to themselves and gives off i don't care energy and probably gave off the impression that they didn't care about anyone here and just treated the people stuck here as an unfortunate fact and nothing more actually being vulnerable and probably doing the same as ragatha talking about their memories with kaufmo

Kingers ALWAYS kind of zoned out or not really taking anything seriously and just being there completely lost in space, but here hes grounded, and even earlier in the episode when ragatha needed it most he remained grounded then too (tho pomni didnt see that i just wanted to mention it). Just like the others he grieves and lives in the unfortunate moment

more of the kinger being grounded when the thought counts

GANGLE- dude even if its for just a moment she smiles here despite having her tragedy mask and like her whole shtick is being of whatever mood or emotion her mask is allegedly wether she wants to or not, but no here shes more than just that, she smiles for a bit when reminiscing her moments with kaufmo only to go back into crying, and man shes always crying with her tragedy mask but its beyond as far as anyone can tell wether or not its really her or just because of her mask, but here? its really her, no matter what the mask on her face shows!! shes genuinely smiling despite having her comedy mask and shes genuinely crying which is very blatantly obviously different to the usual mask cry etc etc

heres something about all this, it hits pomni in a way. These people ARE real, and they care. They care about her, they have nothing else but eachother and THATS something to latch onto. Thats something to hold her down, even if they just met pomni

SPEAKING OF JUST MEETING POMNI she literally expressed how she didnt wanna just LEAVE gumigoo there by himself because she believes no one should just be left there

the circus peeps just met pomni and just like how she felt a real connection to gumigoo in this digital hell she feels a sort of connection with these people too. Theyre gonna have her back all the same, maybe she wont feel so out of place and alone. BONUS THING!! The literal only times she genuinely smiles is when she feels this real connection to what feels real to her and has a genuine and sincere moment with these people whether it be an npc or a trapped member. Idk it just means something to me how significant both these moments are tipped off with a genuine smile a REAL SMIE!! (id add pictures but tumblr has a 30 image limit) OH ALSO BONUS BONUS THING THE DIFFERENCE IN OUTRO MUSIC IS SO IS SO ITS SO the outro song for the pilot kinda feels so ethereal and out of the moment at least to me it kinda feels like it you're slipping through the cracks and just, existing within yourself as the rest of the world around you kind of shatters into glass or melts into water or something i dont think ANY of that made any sense but its loud and its blaring and its so out of reach in a way, mad disassociation vibes but the outro song for the 2nd ep is a lot quieter yet its right there, at first it starts really small, lonely even. trapped by yourself but as the music gets louder and more instruments join in on the song it kind of has a comforting feel? bittersweet? even? its grounding ina way which is much different from how the first one felt at least to me lmao and the comforting feel kinda only emphasizes what I was talking about earlier- the comfort in having that anchor of reality with having a real moment with these people and making that connection yk? and like as i was saying at first the song starts off with just one instrument, at the start of the episode pomni feels utter alone and out of place even if these people here with here are stuck in the same situation as her, together alone. but as the other instruments join. in it kinda uplifts the song a bit, its not one sole instrument anymore like how in the end pomni feels that connection with everyone else, not so alone anymore idk jackshit about music theory so this is entirely a feelies talk instead of like- music lore? so don't take anything i say as like- idk some professional speak im just a nerd nerding about silly digital fixations ANYWAYS THATS ALL FOR NOW I AVE MORE TO SAY BUT THIS IS LONG ENOUGH LOL if you actually read all the way down this far thank you for listening!!! i really really appreciate it :]

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mythalism · 3 months ago

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at this point im just ranting bc im on my period have been cooped up at home for 4 days as a result and havent taken my adderall today so theres a lot happening in my noggin

idk for some reason settling on the word "palatable" just now for solas's writing in veilguard but also the game as a whole just really struck me powerfully because i think it also really encapsulates why it pisses me the fuck off so bad on a personal level. because i literally hate shit like that LOL. growing up a girl with audhd i have spent my life being the one of LEAST palatable people in the room at all times and constantly being told i should be more palatable, dont talk so loud, dont talk so much, dont say things like that! people would like you better if you werent so harsh, you're an acquired taste, you're a tough pill to swallow. you're too political. etc etc ETC and i literally have become more palatable with age but also WITH GREAT EFFORT bc it was so clear to me my whole life that i would continue to (unintentionally) upset and make people uncomfortable with my honesty and intensity just by being myself around them. and you maybe wondering wtf this has to do with dragon age and media in general but i think its because as a result, I LOVE UN-PALATABLE THINGS!!!! BECAUSE I AM ALSO UNPALATABLE. and i think anyone who has experienced this will know what im talking about and if you dont well this post isnt for u. but i want stories to be like a punch to the fucking face. i want INTENSITY!!! i even took that quiz that went around recently and got the one that was like "you read books that challenge your worldview" YEAH!!!!! even things that i disagree with or dislike i will always respect if they pack a fucking punch.

like i hate passivity. i hate in both in people and in media. this isnt a personal drag or attack if u are the kind of person i am talking about. but see how i felt the compulsive need to disclaim that? hm. i hate it because it has never been something that came naturally to me and has always been forced upon me. i hate when people wont speak the fuck up. i hate capitulation. i hate indecisiveness. i hate when people shy away from conflict. these are all things that have repeatedly been the source of interpersonal conflict for me throughout my entire life. and like obviously im a grown adult and i have learned a LOT and am able to handle myself with sensitivity and maturity. i can recognize time and place and appropriateness and be passive and unobtrusive when necessary or when in my or someone else's best interest. i can understand and empathize with people who are the opposite of me and are passive, and avoidant, and afraid of conflict, and quiet. and i have plenty of wonderful relationships in my life and practice healthy conflict resolution regularly like fr dont worry about me. however there is always going to be a little girl inside me who resents that i will always have to tone myself down to meet the standard of easy-enough-to-swallow woman because thats what our world values rather than anyone else ever bothering to meet me at the level of intensity i naturally operate on or even just allowing me to be bonkers in peace.

and all of this absolutely manifests in what stories and art resonates with me. i prefer visual art that is bright, colorful, and intense. all of my favorite stories since i was a child and couldnt even recognize these patterns are unapologetic, emotionally powerful, and loudly political. there are a lot great shows movies games books etc. that i am sure are great and well done, but if they do not have a level of rocking my SHIT, i am simply not going to be a super fan. I LOVED DRAGON AGE FOR ROCKING MY SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!! its probably why da2 is my favorite because it is all of these things that people have been telling me to tamp down on since i was a kid. unapologetic, intense, punch to the face, insane emotional rollercoaster. i love that it challenged the player. its probably why i love tragedy too, and the solavellan romance because its literally painful. also definitely why i love cyberpunk so much and why i fell in love with it so fast, because if there is a game that punches you in the face, its cyberpunk 2077. like johnny literally punches you in the face. anyway ive already written abt this in another post so ill move on now but WOW. PLESAE!!!!! DRAGON AGE PLEASE PUNCH ME IN THE FACE!!!! MAKE ME FEEL SOMETHING!!!! MATCH MY FREAK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SAY SOMETHING!!!! SAY SOMETHING SO I DONT FEEL LIKE THE ONLY PERSON OUT THERE WHOS SAYING SOMETHING!!!!!! i love seeing people be as opinionated and unapologetic as i feel even if i dont let it out. EVEN WHEN I DISAGREE!!!!!!!! this is why you dont see me arguing with posts i disagree with of rancid bad takes on this website. BC I RESPECT THAT SOMEONE HAD THE BALLS TO POST THEIR NONSENSE IN THE FIRST PLACE. UR WRONG BUT GO OFF!!!!!!! there is just something so valuable to me in seeing people express themselves and be loud and unashamed. maybe sometimes they should be ashamed but the inner child in me is happy that they are even given the space to be wrong. doesnt mean i wont disagree equally loudly on my own page, but i just HAAAAATE not speaking up. and i especially hate when being quiet and passive is portrayed as the "right" thing to do, more mature, and superior.

AND THATS VEILGUARD. literally take all of this and apply it to video game form. thats veilguard. safe, passive, palatable. we went from blowing up churches to enabling regicide to....... book club? thats a completely unfair and poor example, im aware, but this isnt a real essay its just a rant, and i know you know what i mean. and to be fair, inquisition was already step in this direction, but boy was veilguard a LEAP. olympic long-jump, even. inquisition is toned down compared to the fucking insanity of da2 and origins, but it still has moments enough to keep me feeling like it has a backbone and something to SAY, that it was brave enough to ask me to think, that it wasnt mass produced soylent green slop manufactured for easy digestion.

but veilguard is. the central message is passivity. the central message is DO. NOTHING. dont try to change things. dont speak up for what you believe in. you might mess up the world!!!!! do you understand how this is a video game manifestation of a sentiment that has smothered me my entire life. do you understand why it is so frustrating to see a series that once asked me to think for myself, to choose, to take action, to DO SOMETHING, go from asking for my opinion in judgement on a character's crimes to telling me not to think too hard at all? to go from allowing me to interrogate every character for their opinions and life story and pick their brains, to not even allowing for a real conversation? to put two choices in front of me and say PICK ONE!!!! AND LIVE WITH THE CONSEQUENCES!!!! TO PUNCH ME IN THE FACE WITH A DEVASTATING STORY THAT HAS SOMETHING TO SAY ABOUT THE WORLD?!??!?!!? EVEN IF THE STATEMENT IS SOME CANADIAN NEOLIB BULLSHIT THAT I DISAGREE WITH????? AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ahem. veilguard genuinely honest to fucking god encourages me as the player to do the very fucking thing that my evil elementary school music teacher wanted from me when i talked too much in class or when my mom told me people would like me more if i wasnt so "intense". shut up, do not ask questions, do not have an opinion, do not express that opinion loudly or in a way that others cannot handle, do not get too excited, dont try to change anything, do not take action, do not get angry. and join the fucking book club. or don't actually, because rook cant even do that. someone is probably going to read this and be like "wow its not that deep" and ur right its not that deep. but i am analyzing why i have such a visceral reaction to this dumbass fucking game and i have figured it out so if you dont like it you can leave. and if you love that veilguard is relaxing and chill and "COZY" that is great for you truly cheers. the world needs people that are passive and diplomatic and quiet and dont rock the boat and quiet and i am 100% dead serious. i know its gonna sound like im being a backhanded bitch because as aforementioned i have chronic bitch syndrome but i am dead serious that all of those traits ARE VALUABLE and have a place in this world and we need games that are relaxing and unobtrusive and P A L A T A B L E just like we need people that can be that way but that is not ME and that was NOT DRAGON AGE and to LOSE DRAGON AGE TO THAT PRESSURE HITS TOO CLOSE TO HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU TOOK MY MEAN MESSY UGLY LOUD FUCKED UP BABY AND GAVE IT A FUCKING TIK TOK FILTER AND CHANGED THE TEXT FROM "KILL" TO "UNALIVE"!!!!!!!! GIVE HER BACK!!!!!!!!!!!! GIVE HER BACK THAT MEAN MESSY UGLY LOUD FUCKED UP BABY WAS MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

feel free to respond in the replies if you relate or resonate with this i know this is very personal but i would love to discuss further with people if you understand what im saying . however if u are an asshole prepare to feel the full force of my wrath because as i said above i hold back a lot but i am simply not in the mood today xoxo kisses

#this is WILD prepare urself for a ride if u open it #i had fun tho and i feel a weight off my shoulders......#personal

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spider-ghoul · 8 months ago

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𝑫𝒊𝒆𝒕 𝑴𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝑫𝒆𝒘

𝑳𝒖𝒌𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝑮𝒏!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝐶𝑤: 𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠, 𝑝𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑐 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑎𝑐𝑘, 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡, 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 ℎ𝑎ℎ𝑎

𝐼 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑟𝑒��𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑘 (𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑚) 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑜 𝑖 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑏𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑐𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑖𝑐

"do you think we'll be in love forever?"

I still remember that day, sitting underneath the big pine tree, looking up at the stars, his arm wrapped around me.

The question settled in the air, filling my lungs with a million feelings I don't think i could name even now.

"Mm... I'd like to think so." I said, closing my eyes and sinking deeper into his chest. I shivered with the autumn breeze and he held me closer.

He hummed, leaning his head against mine, he kissed my hair, "Me too."

Then fall turned to winter and the weather started to get...worse. Storms and thunder and not even the camp barriers could keep it out.

Despite long days locked inside, things stayed almost normal. Tensions were high and the older campers had heard rumors of something stolen, but I still had Luke.

Things only started to change when Percy Jackson showed up.

Bloody, carrying Grover, he showed up to camp. And Luke knew he was different. The child that just killed the Minotaur- of course Luke was right.

The day Percy Jackson was claimed, I didn't see luke for hours. he'd vanished until the middle of the night when i was woken by Luke Castellan knocked on my window.

My fate was sealed when i followed him to Thalia's pine that night.

The air was cool despite it being the middle of summer, and the wind made me regret not bringing a hoodie.

He sat down on the base of the tree, "Everything is going to be different now."

I slide down beside him, placing my head on his neck just like we always did, "Nothing can change this. I'll be with you, always."

I was so stupid.

Luke Castellan cried in my arms that night. He said he was so sorry. I held his hands to stop him from scratching at the scar that covered his eye.

"You promise forever?" His voice shook so bad.

"I promise."

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

"What the fuck are you doing-?!" I pushed Percy behind me. luke held his sword out, stopping me from getting any closer.

There was a flash of something that i could almost recognize as fear on Luke's face as i stood in front of the son of Poseidon. My own sword was raised in defense, we both know i couldn't win against him.

"Percy, go get Chiron." My voice shook slightly, but i held it together as I felt Percy leave my side. Leaving me alone with him.

"Y/n, listen-"

"Listen to what-?" I spit, daring to step closer, "Raising Kronos- are you serious? What is wrong with you-"

"It's for us! It's for all of us!" He took a step back, "What good have the gods ever done for us? I'm not trying to hurt you- this will be better for us. For all of us!"

"Stop talking like that!" I just need him to stay here for another moment, just for Percy to get Chiron. Just so someone else can talk him into staying. "Use your head, please, this will only hurt people."

"A few sacrifices will be worth it!" The anger in his voice almost made me flinch, "come with me."

"...what?"

"Come with me. You wont have to fight me, I'll keep you safe and when we win you'll be right beside me! Forever. We promised forever."

I looked at him for a long moment. I shook my head, "Luke..."

His face hardened.

The next thing i remember was a sudden pain on my left eye.

------

I woke up a day later, half blind.

I couldn't decide what was worse: losing him, or seeing his scar everytime i looked in the mirror.

#pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan drabble #luke castellan headcanons #luke castellan fic #luke castellan #luke castellan angst #sorry about this

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the-s1lly-corner · 4 months ago

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Hello hi hey can I please request the DCA x Reader who gets overwhelmed easily and tends to shut down/lash out when it becomes too much?

DCA x reader who gets overwhelmed easily

I still need to check out help wanted 2... and help wanted 1...

Notes: gn reader, human reader, you work as an assistant and handler for the dca, sun moon and Eclipse are present, in eclipses part they're whole/au where sun and moon never split, they/them pronouns for Eclipse, short and written on puter, using my own experiences for this and I am not universal, pre virus moon

CWs: none? Maybe? If this needs to be edited let me know

SUN

i love him... you love him. lots of people love him. but unfortunately he can sometimes be a little overstimulating on some days- especially if youre already a little worked in from something else

he really does try to tone it done- even more so when he sees youre already having a rough time. but he feels so compelled to check in on you to make sure youre doing alright that he might just make it worse... he gives you space and lets you sit behind the desk while he handles the kids for the day

he does try to find a way for you to express your frustrations without lashing out at yourself or others- stress toys, breathing, venting in a more healthy manner, things like that. he even makes a more personal corner dedicated to you in the daycare so you have a space to hide away for a few minutes to recuperate before getting back to work... and you dont haaaave to rush- hes worked without a handler before and hes confident he can handle a day without you!

MOON

hes a lot more tolerable compared to his daytime counterpart- hes quieter, and doesnt move around as much... still moves of course but hes not bouncing all over the place! come lay down for a while with him during nap time- youre not going to miss anything and you look like you need a moment to reel yourself back in

sun is patient when you hit a breaking point but he tries to let you get that energy out before calming you... moon tries to quiet you as soon as possible. both for a need to help you but also to keep the children from being woken up- he takes you to the side and talks you through it

he focuses more so on checking on you quietly when hes out as well as picking up some extra work to take some of your load off your back- doing some extra cleaning around the daycare before naptime is over, setting things out for you and sun to use for the next activity, things like that

ECLIPSE

a balance of their counterparts- they let you feel your frustration but they work through it so you dont crash before your shift is over- as well as keeping it away from the children... sometimes seeing an adult in such a state can scare a kid and thats the last thing they want

headphones, warm drinks, have a spare blanket and settle down to the side for a few minutes and theyll be right back to you as soon as the kids are distracted enough for a few minutes-- you wont have all of their attention in that moment but theyre definitely trying to make sure youre okay between their work

not just on your bad days- in general- they will set things out and prepare as much as they can much like moon does so its less work for you. they dont really mind doing it + it gives them something to do before opening and your arrival

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reticent-writer · 1 month ago

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Hello my friend, I hope that you are having a good day! 😊 Well, For my first request, I wanted to see if you could do a headcanon with Demon Slayer AU x short black!reader (Short meaning like 5’2 in height and who’s ended up in Japan but has Trinidad and Tobago Caribbean roots/culture which includes the accent,food and of course Soca Carnival) who they date, want to marry and have children with in the future? ( You can choose how many kids each of them should have!) @lelewright1234

Hello I couldn't decide who to do but If you want to pick one have me make a fic I wont mind.😁

This is a bit rushed I'm sorry

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿

You met Rengoku when you were introduced as a new hashira

He couldn't keep his eyes off you

You carried yourself with such confidence that it made him fall for you.

You asked for him to help you move into your new home, and he agreed

It didn't take long the both of you to move everything and after you were done you had asked him to stay so you could make him something as a thank you

You made him Chicken and rice (enough for him to take make to his family)

From then on he helped you with anything you wanted and constantly asked you about your home

I can see you and him having 2-3 kids (all boys of course) with then rengoku features and beautful dark skin (Your genes were fighting for it😭)

Rengoku loves it

»»————>

You trained under Tengen during the training arc

other than your looks you didn't stand out to him until it was time to eat

You offered to help cook, you had a cook book and everything

It took days for him to let you help but when you did he noticed that the moral of everyone changed

everyone was happier and he was too

Your food was amazing (Y'all should go to Trinidad for a trip, you'll see)

Even when he passed you on to train under someone else he kept in touch

He learned more about you and your personal life

After he retired he joked about going to Trinidad and you took him seriously

»»————>

Gyomei knows how it feels to be discriminated against, especially when it comes to look

Obviously, he can't see but he hears about your looks through whispered conversations

After a while, he was able to have a conversation with you and he found out something so simple

You were just a person, living life

He learned about so much about your culture through conversation and things that you brough with you

Ngl I can't see him having kids for many reasons

»»————>

Giyuu liked you from the moment you went out of your way to be around him

You never forced him to talk, and instead would tell him about your day or missions that you had been on

Over time, he opened up and told you about his past

You did too. You told him stories about your home

He could tell that you missed home, he could also tell how connected to it you were

It took him a long time before he was able to convey his feelings and once you reciprocated he never let go

I can see him having 1-2 kids with you

I saw on tiktok that Giyuu had curly hair and I think that perfect

»»————>

Muzan saw you on the verge of death and turned you into a demon

He left you on your own until he noticed you quickly climbing the ranks

You ended up being a lower moon and got his attention

Through your thoughts, he learned about you

You quickly gained his favor but not in a Akaza type of way

You gained his eye

Your curly hair, your melanated skin

He couldn't get enough 😩 but he would never act on it

So he settled on watching you from afar

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿

#demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #giyuu x reader #tengen x reader #rengoku x reader #sanemi x reader #gyomei x reader #obanai x reader #shinobu x reader #mitsuri x reader #gn reader #black reader #reticent writer #reticent writes

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otiksimr · 3 months ago

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Hello hello hello I have returned once again, this time to ask for:

The name pronunciations!

Xerxees, would it sound like Zerzees? Zurksees? Kserksees? Would Ebrietas be Eh-brī-uh-tuhs, Eh-bree-eh-tuhs, something else? How would you even pronounce Rahuul and Yhtraah? Just all of them.

Also, if Abyss Children would be really interested in humans, how often do they actually come down to Earth? You said they're worshipped, so at least once, but do they ever just pop up looking somewhat non-human and just hang out?

Speaking of looking somewhat non-human, does anyone ever question Bob [Bob Beloved] about, like, his general lack of face? Or the fact that, in their eyes, he would seemingly never age? And was Bob [Bob Beloved] ever depicted in like, insanely old murals or anything? Could archeologists in Otiksimr lore find Bob [Bob Beloved] cave paintings?

And if Abyss Children "latch onto" whatever helped them, the ones that were pulled out I mean, does that mean there's even more creatures? And how would a creature help an Abyss Child out in the first place?

Also, when I asked about World Eater relations to other species, you mentioned B A T S that have to do with another character 👀 I am now curious about that as well

Ehem. Anyway. That was my daily question. (More like an interrogation atp but either way)

Tytytytyty

Also this is awesome. Anyway-

Yipe! Questions!

Whenever I pronounce names… I don’t have a real way of doing it. It’s more or less just pronounce it how it looked. Xerxees is Zurk-sees. Ebrietas is Eh-bree-eh-tahs. Rahuul is Rah-ool. For Yhtraah the ‘t’ is silent. So it’d be Yuh-Kraa. That’s the most odd the pronunciation gets though. Don’ worry about it for the most part.

Abyss Children aren’t big wanderers, if they find a place they like they just settle down there. There are two kinds, ones that just wander space (typically young ones who’ve yet to find a role model or older ones who do not take on a form), and ones that stay rooted to a live planet (like Earth). They just stay there, lol. For the most part, just for ease, they can all look relatively human if they want to. Just a majority of them don’t. (Ones who do present themselves as mainly human are Haruna, Yoru, and Zynath but they also interact with humans the most out of all of them).

They have their own territories in the planets they choose to reside in. And those territories are heavily affected by their presence (for example if one of them was Winter Incarnate then the area they mainly reside would be under a constant blizzard :]). Their interaction with humans is based on if people ever wander into their territory knowingly or not. Just I mainly talk about the oddballs (The babysitters and sister twins) so that may not be very apparent. Lol.

Bob has a face. He can look like a completely normal person. I just never draw him as such because I don’t want to. That’s my fault. And Bob is good at making sure he didn’t get caught while he’s a worm (Correction, Rahuul is very good at making sure Bob isn’t seen at all when he’s worm). So you wont be seeing any ancient murals of Bobby worm. Sad.

There are a lot of critters. That I have in concept. Just none of them I give names because I am bad with names and I know I wont remember them so theres no point to it. I make it sound like Abyss Child ‘births’ are a very frequent thing. It isn’t. Maybe like. Once a million years on average, and that’s just how often it happens not how successful it is. (Success rating I’d say a solid 1% make it). And the chances that another being is around to notice it let alone do anything about it is very slim. I made a lil’ diagram to help show it, since it’s really hard to explain. Lol.

Alright! The bats! They’re relevant to a character because of his [L O R E]. Woo, spooky. So, you know how oarfish are also known as ‘doomsday fish’ because they surface during earthquakes? The bats are like that! But they are are way more specific, scarily so even! They sense disaster (just think of Absol the pokemon), and a week or so before the disaster actually strikes they all scatter and relocate in massive hoards, and after the disaster strikes they go back to their original home. (For example, a flood or forest fire. One flock will leave, a few days past, another flock will leave, and eventually the entire hoard is gone.)

Thus people who live on this [specific island] that the bats are only located on build their residents near the areas that the bats are native to. As they are an extremely accurate forewarning. Basically, when the bats start leaving you gotta pack up and MOVE. When the hoard is gone ya gotta book it out of there fella! Heh heh. They got a long ass name that I don’t feel like repeating here, but yeah :). I think it was Yan Hyra or something like that. Don’t ask what it means because it ain’t mean shit. That’s just the naming system, ha.

Very glad to add to your brain eating amoebas! And brain worms ! ! :]

Please… my mice… ask about my characters… I must infect the rest of you as well.

#kos speaks #[lore]#me when my worms #long post

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vulpixisananimal · 5 months ago

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[A:4 C:67]

(Odile)

(A few months ago, you would never have guessed that Houses of Change had secret hidden libraries. Then again a few months ago you would have said wish craft was just a fairytale and that mind craft was, at most, usable as a cheap carnival trick.)

(You were here with Asterion. A few weeks ago when you first looked through this library, you found books written in a language that gave you a headache to read. It took you a second, but you remembered to get Siffrin for it. And Siffrin referred to, of all people, Asterion. Well, Asterion with Rosmarinus helping. Right now, he was sitting nearby with a pile of books, attempting to translate and transcribe the contents. In the meantime, you looked for more of those books.)

(You’re sure to transcribe every book here; it would take months, if not years. So really, Asterion was just transcribing enough to get a general idea.)

(. . . Maybe, once all this has wrapped up and all of you can actually settle down, you could help them transcribe more of these books. . . Enough musing, Odile. You searched this section, off to the next one.)

(What were you searching for, really? While yes it was to check the forgotten books, but what were you searching for inside them? Some notes on wish craft? Some hints to the origin of sadness? Gems you did not know, but you will keep searching, as you always have. You walk to the next section.)

(There was someone here already, but no matter. This was the histories section, and considering that the Monets lived here, it was surprisingly small. You walk to one of the shelves and begin searching through it. . .)

(. . . A history book on the island would be invaluable. . . Gems, if you’re lucky, you might finally find that book Percival wrote on his own family! “The Monet Family; When ego overtakes devotion.” A stunning title, even still. Where would you. . .)

“Looking for something?” (The stranger speaks to you. She sounds young, and familiar. You turn around.)

(And you freeze.)

(Your eyes glazed over the stranger at first, like she was just background noise. But now, you see her in a crystal clear view. The cap, the bag, and, most revealing of all, the eye wrapped around said cap. You, you remember this. Those with eyes, that’s, t-that’s--)

“おはようございます [Ohayou-gozaimasu]” (You quickly bow your head.) “[You- a-are you-]”

“[I am~]” (The stranger bowed back.) “[Ohayou-gozaimasu, Madame Odile. It’s good to finally to meet you.]”

(The words, like everything else about this situation, left you stunned and confused.) “[M-meet, me? But, why would you want to meet me? There are certainly others-]”

“[Oh stop it.]” (She held up a hand.) “[Please, let me introduce myself before we engage in your theological crisis. The name I’ve chosen for now is Rimae, and I am the Expression of Search.]”

“[G-gems alive.]” (It’s hard to breathe, your hands wont stop shaking.) “[I-it, it is, wonderful to meet you, Rimae-sama, an honor, even.]”

“[Oh no need to be so formal, Odile-hakase.]” (The God giggled behind a hand, walking over to you. She reached up and tilted your head to the side.) “[. . . You’ve aged well for someone almost in her sixties.]”

“[. . .]” (You weren’t sure how to respond. You are talking to one of your expressions, arguably the one you have been praying to for the longest of them all.) “[. . . It hasn’t been easy.]”

“[Ha! Oh it never is!]” (She let go of your chin and patted your shoulder.) “[How have you been?]”

“[I. . . I have been, stressed as of late.]” (Does Rimae not know? Oh, no no you remember Loop telling you about this; it’s just manners.) “[Between saving Vaugarde, making sure these children do not hurt themselves, and now those cutting Monets to deal with- a-ah, excuse my language-]”

“[HA!! Hahaaaa no by all means!]” (The god turned back to the bookshelf and traced a finger along it.) “[I have no quarrel with the Monets, they are nothing to me. This isn’t an insult, it is a state of fact. You, however, mean much more than they ever could, and thus the Monets are on the ah, shit list, excuse my language~]”

“[. . Pffaha!]” (That made you crack into a smile. Gems, you were feeling younger by the second.) “[Thank you, again, but. . . Why? Why me?]”

“[Isn’t it obvious.]” (Rimae stops tracing her finger down the books, and pulls one out.) “[We never expect those in Ka-Bue to stay loyal to one Expression, if anything, it is opposed. But you, you were not loyal, but passionate. Ever since you were young you would pray for my assistance, and search for what you needed most. Many a time, all I needed to do was nudge you in the right direction, and watch you discover yourself all by yourself.]”

“[The search for your many lost possessions, the search for your mother when she left, the search for your education, and of course the search to change.]” (The God winked, and continued.) “[And then, the search for family, for help, for people, for this country, for everything. You have always been a soul driven by missing puzzle pieces; you have never given up, not even once, that is admirable, Madame Odile.]”

“[But, I. . .]” (Rimae holds the book out to you. You take it. Its cover reads “The Monet Family; When ego overtakes devotion.” You look between her and the book.) “[. . . . I did give up. I let my sadness consume me.]”

“[As would any mortal.]” (Rimae retorts.) “[It was because you were searching for answer, it nearly killed you, yes, but that search led you to learn more, did it not?]”

“[. . . . I. . . . I suppose.]” (You hold the book close to your chest, and look away.)

“[. . . Odile Look at me.]” (You, hesitantly look down at the God. That eye of hers was looking right at you.) “[Do not listen to your inner demons, you searched hard for your family. You love them, they love you. You could do anything, and they would love you. This I know.]”

“[I. . . .]” (You take a moment to breathe carefully, so you don’t cry.) “[. . . T-thank you. . .]”

“[It’s my pleasure.]” (She pinches your nose.) “[How do you feel now?]”

“[Better. Much better.]” (You rub your eyes with your free hand.) “[. . . Although, while I understand why you are here, I want to ask why you are here looking as you do?]”

“[What, like some delinquent student?]” (She laughed again.) “[Ha! It’s becoming quite the trend, you see. In fact I believe it was a good friend of the Change God who started it.]”

“[You mean the Universe]” (You raise an eyebrow.)

“[Ah yes! That is the name, thank you. I probably won’t be the last God to take a step in your shoes. And I chose to look like this because what else embodies searching more than a rebellious university student! Ha!]”

“M-madame Odile?” (You turn at hearing Asterion's voice. He’s standing at the far end of the history section.) “You were ah, taking more time than usual. So I wanted to make sure that. . .”

“Asterion and Rosmarinus, yes?” (Rimae chimes in, speaking perfect Vaugardian.) “Where would I search for the Big Dipper tonight?”

“O-oh!” (You could see the gears turning in his head almost automatically.) “. . . Directly north of here, about 7 degrees from the horizon, what-”

“And the star Hamal?”

“Due. . . Due east, nearly straight above us.”

“Very well done.” (Rimae turned back to you, a toothy smile on her face.) “またね, [Mata ne], Odile-hakase, feel free to call any time.”

“. . . M-mata ne, Rimae-sama.” (You respond after a moment.) “And, I hope you enjoy your time in Vaugarde.”

“Oh I’m sure I will~” (She giggled, then turned to leave. On her way out, she paused as she passed by Asterion. She looked down at him, then patted his head.) “And it’s good to meet you all, Asterion-kun, Rosmarinus-kun.”

(With that and a confused look from Asterion, Rimae turned the corner, and was gone.)

#HI I did a bit of research to make sure I'm using the terms correctly and yes it's google translated japanese SO I HOPE THIS WORKS #i also know the honorifics are for the last names. not first names. but i didn't come up with last names for rimae and odile #isat #in stars and time #isat au #siffrin system au #sifstem #isat spoilers #isat odile #isat asterion #isat rimae #isat expressions #isat fanfic

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runningincircl3s · 3 months ago

Text

Blood Sport

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Chapter Eight

chapter warnings: brief mention of a joint, a lot of arguing...

i feel like this is really the turning point in this fic and i'm kinda nervous to finally put it out there... anyways happy friday!! next weeks post might be a little late as i'm going to paris for the week with my best friend!! so i wont be so active :)

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“Noah.” You swallowed, forcing down the lump in your throat. “Go after her. She never deserved to be sucked into our mess. If Amy ever meant anything to you, you’d go after her right now. You'd go after her and you’d apologise. For everything. Please, Noah."

But he didn’t move.

And then Amy’s voice echoed in your head, full of heartbreak.

“He’s yours, y/n. He was always yours.”

Noah's eyes stayed focused on you, and you couldn't bring yourself to meet them, knowing you'd give in, knowing how easy it'd be. You stared out the window instead, watching Folio and Bryan talk, pretending this wasn't making you feel sick.

"Y/n? Look at me..." He spoke, his voice voice vulnerable, and you feared you knew where this was going to go.

But you didn't reply, you shook your head, your gaze still focused outside.

And finally, with a sigh and a shake of his head, he walked away, towards the front door.

Only when you watched the door shut behind him, did you let out the breath you were holding, along with a choked sob.

For a moment, you didn't think he was going to do it. You didn't think he was going to go after her, and you were afraid of how that made you feel.

...

Noah took a slow breath as he climbed the stairs, each step heavier than the last. The soft glow of light spilled out from beneath his bedroom door. She was here.

But he already knew that. He could hear her quiet sobs.

His fingers curled around the handle, and he slowly pushed it open.

“Amy…”

She didn’t look up. She was by the closet, tossing her clothes into her suitcase which sat open on Noah's bed, already hall full.

“Ames-”

“Don’t,” she cut him off, voice sharp but trembling. “Don’t apologise, don't bother trying to fix this. I’m doing what I should've done weeks ago- months, even.”

Noah stepped into the room, hesitant, like a stranger in his own home.

“I can’t keep giving my love to people who don’t give it back,” she said, her back still to him. “It’s exhausting, Noah.”

He sat down slowly on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight like a sigh.

“I am sorry,” he said softly. “I never thought I’d see her again. I told myself I was over it, that it was done, I don't know why-”

She turned, eyes flashing, her pain flaring into fury.

“Don’t,” she said again, voice cracking. “Don’t insult me with that... You never loved me in the first place, did you?”

Noah didn’t answer, he couldn't. He wanted to lie, to say yes, but she deserved better.

She deserved the truth.

“I never ever wanted to hurt you,” he said. “God, Amy, I tried. The trips, the late nights, the dinners, everything... I kept hoping one day it would all feel real. That I’d wake up and realise I didn’t miss her anymore, and that I'd love you. That I’d look at you and forget what it felt like to love someone else. But that’s not how love works. Not the real kind.”

Amy exhaled sharply, her expression unreadable. She blinked back tears, but they were already falling.

“Then why did you let me stay?” she asked, her voice quieter now. “Why let me fall deeper, knowing you didn't feel it back, when you were still broken over her? Why let me believe we had something, that we were building something?”

“Because I saw you trying,” Noah said. “Because I wanted it to be enough. I wanted to want you and not her! I hated myself for not being able to give you the same in return. I kept thinking maybe if we just kept going, one day I’d catch up.”

Her laugh was hollow, bitter.

“So you just settled for me because you couldn't have her?”

“No,” he said quickly. “You were never a distraction. You weren’t a replacement. I didn’t kiss you and picture her, Amy. I didn’t sleep beside you and pretend. That would’ve made me a monster, and I’m not that.”

“But you didn’t love me,” she said, her voice cracking like glass. “You were trying to love me. There’s a difference.”

Noah sighed as he stood up, running a hand through his hair as he thought about how to word what he wanted to say.

“I'm sorry, Amy. I'm sorry I couldn't be the man you wanted. You deserved someone who didn’t flinch every time her name came up. Someone who didn’t pause before saying ‘I love you.’ Someone who didn’t carry someone else’s ghost into every fucking room.”

Amy turned away, wiping her eyes quickly, almost angrily.

“You’re right,” she whispered. “You’re absolutely right.”

There was a long pause. Then she looked back at him, and her voice dropped to something almost gentle, almost sad.

“And the worst part is, I still can’t hate you.”

That cut deeper than anything else she couldve said.

“I want to. I want to scream at you and throw shit and burn everything we had to the ground, but I can’t. Because you were still good to me. Because I know you didn’t mean to do this. And that’s what makes it so fucking hard to walk away... Because you're all I ever wanted, Noah.”

Noah moved toward her, slowly, as if afraid she’d break if he got too close.

He wanted her to stay, he wanted to say they could make it work, but he didn't want to lie to her. He may not have been in love with her, but he loved her enough to know she deserved better.

“I never wanted to do this to you,” he said. “I’m sorry, Amy. I’m so sorry.”

He reached for her and pulled her into his arms as she started to sob again.

“I loved being with you,” she said into his chest. “Even if it wasn’t forever. I did love you, Noah.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I know you did. And I would've done anything to be able to give you that love back, but you deserve better. And I know the right guy is out there somewhere, just waiting for you to come into his life and change it forever.”

She pulled back after a moment, her eyes swollen and red, but still somehow soft.

“I need to go. Please don’t follow me, don't call, don't text. My friends will be over to get the rest of my stuff in the week. Just… let me have this goodbye.”

He nodded.

She wheeled her suitcase toward the door, pausing just once to glance back.

“I hope you figure it out with her. I really do. And I hope she realises how lucky she is to have you.”

“Amy, wait,” he called out, voice hoarse. “Thank you. For everything, for loving me when I couldn’t love myself. Thank you for not making this harder than it should be.”

She gave a small, broken smile.

“What does fighting even fix?” She murmured.

And then she left.

He heard when the front door clicked shut behind her, and Noah stood frozen in place, the sound echoing through the house like a final nail in the coffin. He stared at the dent her suitcase wheels had left in the hallway carpet.

Amy was gone.

And he let her go.

She didn't deserve to be burdened by him any longer.

He dragged a hand down his face, his breathing uneven, like his body hadn’t caught up to the moment yet. He should’ve chased her. Should’ve said something more. Fought. But what was the point? She was right. Every word. Every tear.

He slumped down on the floor in the hallway, back against the wall, staring blankly at the opposite wall like it might offer him an answer.

Amy had picked him up when he was at his lowest.

When he couldn’t sleep without nightmares, she was there to hold him and calm him down.

When he thought about quitting the band, she talked sense into him and made him realise he was overreacting.

When he had convinced himself that love was something he wasn't worthy of, she loved him anyway.

She held his hand through panic attacks. She made him breakfast when he couldn’t leave bed. She put him back together after you had torn him to pieces.

And still… he couldn't love her back.

Because all it took was you walking back into his life for everything he built (or tried) with Amy to unravel.

He slammed his fist against the floorboard, the thud dull but final. He hated that he was angry. He shouldn't be angry. Amy was the innocent one in all this. She gave him everything. But the truth was bitter and ugly and loud in his head,

If you hadn’t come back, he might have been okay.

He might’ve convinced himself he could love Amy enough.

He might’ve built a new life, one that didn’t include you.

But now?

Now he was sitting in a cold, quiet, empty house, and all he could see was your face. The way you looked at him when you first saw him again. Like you didn’t expect him to still hurt.

Like you didn’t know he was still in love with you.

He stood up and stormed into the kitchen, yanking open a cupboard and reaching for a glass. In the past, this is when he would've turned to alcohol. He didn't pretend the thought didn't briefly cross his mind, but refused to let you be the one to break him again. So instead, he poured a glass of juice, letting out a humourless chuckle as he stared at it.

...

A couple days later, you left with Folio to go back to the studio at Noah’s house. You wouldn't admit it, but you wanted to see how he was holding up, you wanted to know whether he took your advice or not.

But judging by the atmosphere in the room, you could've guessed what happened.

The guys were supposed to be deep in their work, aiming to finish the album in the next few days, but it was clear the vibe was off. The creative energy they needed? Nowhere to be found.

They were all struggling, getting distracted, except for Noah, who was in the zone. He hadn’t spoken a word since you all got here, and the only sound that filled the room was the click of his mouse, rewinding and replaying the same track over and over again.

After an hour of suffocating silence, Noah finally broke. He sat up in his chair, his fingers twitching at the keyboard as if hoping to make the song sound right by sheer willpower.

“Something still doesn’t sound right,” he muttered under his breath. “I just can’t fucking tell.”

"Maybe it's your voice." You said under your breath, smirking as your eyes stayed focused on your phone.

He groaned, shoving the headphones off his head, dropping them to the desk. The sudden motion startled everyone, but it was his tone of voice that made everyone freeze.

“I can’t fucking breathe in here.”

Noah stood abruptly, his chair scraping across the floor in protest, and without another word, he stormed out of the room, the door slamming behind him with a force that rattled the walls.

The silence that followed was too loud. You could feel the tension thick in the air, as if the whole room was holding its breath.

Nobody moved a muscle.

You stared at the door Noah had just stormed out of, brows furrowing. You could feel the weight of the moment.

He was spiralling, and it was obvious.

“Aren’t one of you gonna follow him?” You asked, your voice cutting through the stillness. But there was no answer at first, jsut a lot of uncomfortable shifting and a few hesitant glances exchanged between the guys.

They were all too scared to go after him.

You raised an eyebrow and sighed, irritation creeping up your spine.

“Fine,” you muttered, pushing yourself out of your seat. “If you're all being pussies I guess I’ll go! I've been his emotional punching bag for long enough."

The rest of the band remained seated, the air thick with reluctance. You didn’t blame them. Nobody wanted to get involved in Noah’s mess, but you couldn’t just sit there while he fell apart. You were sure you were partly behind the reason he was like this, after all.

You made your way through the hall and up the stairs, your footsteps echoing louder than they should’ve in the quiet house.

You paused at the door to his bedroom. You heard a thud, like the sound of something being thrown, probably his phone. It was followed by a long exhale, full of frustration and pain.

You knocked lightly.

“Noah?” Your voice cracked around his name.

“Go away.” He snarled, but you refused to back down, pushing the door open anyway.

“No. You’re not doing this.” You stepped inside, closing it carefully behind you like the room might shatter if you moved too fast. Noah was hunched over on the edge of his bed, his face buried in his hands. You didn’t move closer right away, but you kept your distance, trying to find the right words. “No one else came to check on you. I just… I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

He didn’t look up.

“Everyone else respects me enough to leave me the fuck alone.” His voice was bitter, thick with anger and pain. “And drop the ‘caring’ act, y/n. You don’t fool me.”

You winced at the coldness in his words, but still didn’t back down.

“I do care.” You lowered your voice, choosing your words carefully as you sat down beside him, just far enough to give him space but close enough to show you weren’t going anywhere. “You’ve been quieter than usual. You’ve seemed distant… Did something happen that night?... Is it Amy?”

He looked up slowly, his eyes bloodshot and wild with anger and frustration.

“Yeah.” His voice shook. “I came back to find her packing her shit. And I couldn't let her stay and hurt her anymore, so I just let her go. I’ve done enough damage. She deserves someone better, and I... I could never be that guy.”

You felt the weight of his words, a knot forming in your throat.

“I’m sorry, Noah.” You frowned, your voice softening. “For the part I played in it. I feel terrible. If I never came back-”

He let out a bitter laugh, a sharp sound that hit you harder than anything he’d said yet.

“You think this was that simple?” He shook his head, his eyes flashing with a mix of disbelief and pain. “God, you’re so fucking naive.”

“What do you mean?” You felt the crack in your voice before you could even mask it.

He stood abruptly, pacing now, fingers digging into his scalp like he was trying to rip out the thoughts that plagued him.

“It made no difference whether you came back or not, 'cause this time it's my fault, okay?” He exhaled sharply, his voice trembling with frustration. “I knew it from the beginning... It wasn’t real. She was just a goddamn distraction. A warm body to hold on to while the person I actually wanted was out of reach… I never meant for it to be anything serious but I needed something to make my mind off other things.”

Your heart stopped.

“What do you m-” You didn’t even get the chance to finish the question before he turned on you.

“I mean you!” He roared, the rawness of his voice breaking through the anger. “Amy never stood a chance, did she?”

You swallowed hard, wanting to say something but he just continued.

“I tried.” His voice cracked. “I tried so fucking hard to love her like she deserved, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t love her, not really. She deserves someone who can, someone whose mind isn't always somewhere else, someone who doesn't need to convince himself that this was what he wanted.” He sank back onto the bed, face buried in his hands again. “I was broken, I was hurting, and she was there. She helped put me back together after the mess you made.”

You blinked, nodding slowly, everything in you turning cold.

“Oh… so now it is my fault.”

He shot you a look, furious and defensive.

“I never fucking said that.”

You stood up, the frustration boiling over.

“No, I get it now. Instead of healing, instead of dealing with your own shit, you dragged this innocent girl into your life. You gave her false hope and fucked her over just to keep your mind off of me?!”

His eyes darkened.

“Well if you didn't lie to me, go behind my back, sleep with another guy for months, none of this would've ever happened.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling the sting of his words.

“You really think you’re the only one who got hurt? You left that night without a word. I called and I texted and I got nothing, so I got the message loud and clear- you wanted nothing more to do with me. Do you know how much that hurt me? I loved you, Noah, and yes I know I hurt you, we hurt each other, and I don’t how many times I can apologise but I’m sick of us going in circles. What else can I do?”

Noah turned away, shoulders tense with frustration, but you could see the hesitation in his movements.

“Leave,” he muttered, his voice low. “That’ll fix everything.”

“No!” You snapped, a fire lighting in your chest. “Running solves nothing, Noah. Haven’t we learned that already? Look, whether you admit it or not, we both know there’s still something here. I don’t know what the hell it is, but I want us to at least get along for our friends, and then maybe… one day, we could explore whatever the hell this is between us. Because I still care about you. More than I probably should. And I don’t want to watch you keep hurting people just because you refuse to face the truth about what’s going on. So no, I'm not leaving.”

He shot you a look, his anger flaring again.

“Well, I’m not gonna fuck you now that she’s gone, if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

The words hit you like a ton of bricks. Your chest tightened, and for a moment, the air left your lungs.

Something inside you snapped. You straightened, the cold edge of your voice slicing through the space between you.

“Wow. Fuck you, Noah.” He stared at you, his expression hardening, but you didn’t care. “You really think so little of me? After everything, you think I came here for that?... God, you make me sick.”

You didn’t wait for a reply. You grabbed the door handle with white-knuckled force, slamming it open as you stormed out of the room.

…

The air in the studio a few hours later was tense. Noah spent most of his time in the booth recording vocals, which you were thankful for as you were too afraid to open your mouth around him, knowing he’d just twist whatever you said and throw it back in your face.

You’d told Bryan and Folio about the argument you'd had- tear-streaked and shaking when you returned, you couldn't not tell them. They were the only ones in the room at the time, and both agreed Noah had crossed a line, even for someone hurting.

“Can I hear that back?” Noah asked, walking over to where Jolly was seated, listening to the playback.

“What song are you guys-” You began, wanting to join the conversation, to show a little interest in what they were working on.

“Can you shut up for two seconds? I’m trying to listen to this.” Noah snapped, cutting you off without even looking at you.

“Noah,” Matt warned, shooting him a pointed look.

Noah just rolled his eyes.

“Still doesn’t sound right,” he muttered, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“Try a lower tone, maybe?” Jolly offered gently. “We can do a few takes and layer some background vocals.”

Noah gave a stiff nod and returned to the booth.

“You guys are really grinding today, huh?” You said with a small smile, trying to shake off the sting of his words.

“Yeah,” Matt replied with a nod. “We want to wrap the album by the end of the week. Got a show this weekend, so we’re pushing hard to finish before that.”

“You do?” you blinked.

“Yep,” Ruffilo said. “Playing our first festival of the year, so we set that as our deadline.”

“You guys are playing a festival and didn’t think to tell me?” you laughed, trying to keep it light.

“Course we didn’t,” Noah’s voice snarled as he walked back out of the booth. “It’s none of your business.”

You blinked, thrown.

“Well… you guys are my friends, so it kind of is my business.”

“And this is my band. And it’s none of your fucking business.”

“Noah, what’s-” you started, but he cut you off again, voice rising.

“No! I don’t fucking get it! You’re not in the band, but since you came back you’ve been here every day we’ve been recording. Why? What does any of this have to do with you?”

You stared at him in disbelief, heart racing.

“Maybe I wanted to support you,” you snapped, standing up now. “Maybe I wanted to spend time with my friends. I don’t know, Noah- maybe I care!” You grabbed your bag and shoved your things into it, hands trembling. “But I’m tired of this, I can see I’m not welcome here. So screw you.”

“Y/n, no,” Matt said, standing too. “Don’t listen to him.”

“No, he’s right,” You said, turning to face Noah one last time, your voice shaking with anger. “I’m not part of the band!”

You took a breath and let it all out.

“You are a selfish, cold-hearted bastard. Amy’s better off without you, and I hope you stay sad and alone for the rest of your life, because no one should ever have to put up with your shit the way I have!”

Noah didn’t flinch. He just looked at you, expression unreadable, and said coldly.

“Yeah? And I wonder who made me this way.”

You shook your head.

The door slammed behind you with a force that rattled the frame, leaving a heavy silence in your wake.

Noah didn’t move.

“Dude,” Bryan said, his voice low with disbelief. “What the fuck was that?”

Noah shrugged, still staring at the door like he was waiting for it to swing back open.

“She shouldn’t have been here.”

“Oh come on,” Folio snapped, standing up. “That was brutal, even for you.”

“She’s not part of the band,” Noah said defensively. “I’m sick of her hovering around, acting like she belongs here.”

“She does belong here,” Jolly chimed in, pulling off his headphones. “And you know it.”

“C’mon, man, she comes here to show she cares and shows an interest and you just humiliated her in front of all of us.”

Noah exhaled, jaw clenched.

“You don’t get it.”

“Then help us get it,” Bryan said. “Because right now it just looks like you’re taking your shit out on the wrong person.”

“She’s not innocent.” Noah muttered, almost to himself.

“Even if she’s not,” Bryan said firmly, “You didn’t have to go off like that. You made her cry, again. That’s not who you are, man. She’s been my best friend for longer than I’ve known you and I am not going to watch you hurt her again.”

Noah sat down, staring at the ground, silent.

Matt exchanged a look with Folio, then leaned forward, rubbing his hands together like he was trying to shake the tension off.

“I have an idea. If Folio’s cool with it, why don’t we go back to their place once we’re done here? I think we all need a break, and you can talk to her there.”

Folio nodded.

“That’s cool with me. What do you think?”

Noah let out a slow breath.

“I’ll come, but I’m not promising I’ll talk to her.”

Matt shook his head, exasperated.

“Do you know how fucking childish you sound, man?”

Noah narrowed his eyes but didn’t argue.

“You’re making this harder than it has to be, on both of you,” Matt continued. “Yeah, maybe she put you through hell, maybe you’ve got every reason to be pissed, but never once has she given up on you. Even earlier when you stormed off, nobody else got up to check on you- but she did. If that doesn’t say what kind of person she is then I don’t know what does.”

Matt softened, just slightly, before adding,

“You need to make amends before it’s too late.”

…

You were curled up on the couch, a rerun of some old sitcom playing in the background as you absentmindedly scrolled through your phone, planning ideas for how you’d decorate the back yard. The front door creaked open, followed by a familiar mix of voices echoing through the hallway.

“Hey,” you smiled, lifting your head, “What are you guys doing here?”

“We needed a break from the studio,” Matt said, flopping down beside you on the couch. “Folio said we could come hang here for a bit.”

“Needed to get away from Noah?” you joked, chuckling- until the silence that followed hung heavy in the air.

“I’m here too, dumbass.”

Your smile faltered as your face flushed. You quickly turned back to the TV, noticing Matt struggling to hold back a laugh beside you.

“So… What you looking at?” Matt asked, glanicng over at your phone screen.

“I want to get into gardening and grow some plants, maybe have a little patch in the backyard.”

“Then Matt’s your guy.” Nicholas smiled, sitting down on the other side of you, “Gardener by day, sound tech by night.”

“Really?” You asked, and Matt nodded.

“I could help you out if you want?”

“That’d be great! Thank you,” you grinned, before yawning, checking the time on your phone, “It wouldn’t be rude of me to go to bed now, would it? Since you guys just got here.”

“Course not.” Ruff smiled.

“But uh… Noah has something to say to you before you turn in.”

“I don’t care. He’s said enough.” You huffed, getting up from the couch, taking your glass out to the kitchen.

But there they were, standing outside by the backdoor, Folio had clearly lit a joint and they were sharing it on the patio, but when Bryan held it out to Noah, he shook his head, and caught a glimpse of you.

You turned your back to the door, rinsing your glass in the sink, hoping they’d all just stay outside. But before you could dry your hands, you heard the door creak open.

Careful footsteps moved behind you.

You didn’t have to look to know it was him.

“I’m not in the mood for another fight.” You said flatly, still facing the sink.

“I’m not here to fight,” Noah replied, his voice softer than you expected. “I just… I wanted to talk.”

You dried your hands slowly, bracing yourself.

“Then talk.”

There was a pause before he spoke again.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what I said. And how I acted.” His voice was strained, like it took effort to get the words out. “And I owe you an apology. A real one.”

You stayed quiet.

“I’ve been lashing out at you,” he continued, stepping a little closer, “Because it’s easier than actually dealing with my shit. I’ve blamed you, snapped at you, ignored you... and none of that was fair.”

Your fingers clenched around the dish towel as you turned slightly, catching a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye. He looked tired.

“I kept telling myself you could handle it,” he said, voice low. “That you were strong enough to take it. That you’d be fine..."

You swallowed hard, your throat beginning to ache.

“I’ve been unfair. And cruel, even. And I guess I just wanted to say I see it now,” he said. “I see the way I’ve made you feel. And I’m sorry. You’ve only ever tried to be there, to fix things, and I’ve been nothing but a dick.”

Your arms crossed tightly over your chest, but your defenses were already starting to crack.

“I thought maybe I deserved it,” you whispered, voice trembling. “This was me paying for what I did to you…”

Noah’s face shifted, the guilt visibly crashing down over him.

“No,” he said softly. “No, that isn't true. I was too hard on you, you didn’t deserve that…”

You blinked hard, but it was too late, the tears were already building, hot and sudden. You turned away, wiping at your face with the back of your hand.

“I’ve been holding that in for so long,” you said, your voice breaking. “Trying to act like I was okay with how things are now. Like I wasn’t constantly wondering when you’d look at me like a friend again. Or even just like someone you didn’t resent.”

He stepped forward again, slowly, like he didn’t want to startle you.

“I'm sorry, really. I don’t know if we can ever fix everything,” he said, “But I don’t want us to keep doing this, walking on eggshells, pretending like it doesn’t hurt.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks freely now, and you pressed your hands to your face, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.

And then he moved.

Without a word, Noah stepped in and wrapped his arms around you.

You froze, stunned by the warmth of him. The weight of him.

His arms. Around you.

You crumbled against him, burying your face into his chest as you cried. It wasn’t loud, but it was raw. Painful. Like letting out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding for too long.

Noah held you like he didn’t know how to do anything else. Like he’d wanted to do this for a long time but had been too stubborn to let himself.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words brushing against your hair. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You didn’t speak. You just let yourself fall apart for a minute, finally, safely, because for the first time in months, you didn’t feel alone in the mess.

When your crying seemingly came to an end, you slowly pulled back. He didn’t let you go right away, only loosening his hold enough so you could meet his eyes.

“I’m still hurt,” you said, voice hoarse. “And I’m still angry.”

“I know.” He nodded.

“But I don’t want to keep feeling like this. I don’t want to keep arguing every time we’re in the same space.”

He exhaled slowly, giving the smallest, almost grateful smile.

“Then let’s stop,” he said. “Let’s try to move forward. Not… destroy each other every time we speak.”

You gave a shaky laugh through your tears.

“That sounds exhausting.”

“Less exhausting than this.”

You nodded.

“Okay.”

It wasn’t a fix. It wasn’t even forgiveness, but it was a start.

“I’m gonna go to bed." You said softly.

“Alright.”

You paused in the doorway, your hand resting on the frame as you looked back at him.

“Goodnight, Noah.”

He gave a small nod, eyes meeting yours.

“Goodnight, y/n… Will you be coming with us this weekend?”

You blinked, surprised by the question.

“You want me to?”

His lips curved, just barely.

“I know you’d never say no to a festival.”

Your heart tugged at the quiet truth of it.

He knew you too well.

You smiled faintly.

“Then you already know my answer.”

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