#but i still managed to get it wrong this time lol

[enemiestolovershoe]

Bandaged Hearts

Noah Sebastian x fem!reader

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

Words: 13.3k

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s where you came in.

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

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

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

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

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

The typing bubble popped up immediately.

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

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

You sat up a little straighter, heart kicking up.

You: uhh depends?? why?

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

You: wait WHAT??

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

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

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

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

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

And honestly? You needed it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laughed, already feeling strangely at ease with them.

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t get long to soak it in.

"Uh, nurse!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You rolled your eyes. "Debatable."

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

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

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

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

Matt winked. “Optimism, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May 4th, 2023. Greenwood Village, CO

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

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

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

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

But then you heard it.

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

"Noah, dude. Are you fucking bleeding?"

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

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

You rushed forward, your heart hammering against your ribs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Noah was quiet for a second.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No promises," he said.

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

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

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

Something steady.

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

May 6th, 2023. Atlantic City, NJ

Two days later, chaos found you again.

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

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

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

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

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

Your stomach dropped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This time, the mood shifted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Noah grinned wide, still unapologetic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May 12th, 2023. Oklahoma City, OK

It started subtly.

At first, you almost missed it.

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

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

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

So you started watching him. Closer.

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

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

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

You saw it happen once. Just once.

A missed cue.

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

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

You didn’t say anything then. Not yet.

Tonight wasn’t any different.

Noah hadn’t eaten a single thing all day.

You noticed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For the first time, Noah really looked at you.

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

But he didn’t say anything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something had to give.

You just hoped you noticed before it did.

May 17th, 2023. Birmingham, AL

The venue was pure chaos.

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

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

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

Too calm.

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

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

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

He shrugged, a hollow, almost resigned gesture.

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

Your stomach twisted sharply.

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

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

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

The admission hit you harder than you expected.

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

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

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

Noah didn’t even flinch.

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

He didn’t answer.

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

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

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

Then he lifted his gaze to yours.

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

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

"No," he said quietly.

And the honesty in that one word nearly broke you.

May 18th, 2023. Chattanooga, TN

The day was brutal.

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

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

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

Everyone except Noah.

He tore around the place like a man possessed.

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

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

You snapped.

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

Noah barely even slowed down.

He shot you a breathless grin over his shoulder.

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

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

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

You returned it with a sharp nod.

Jolly wasn’t stupid. He knew it too.

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

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

You needed to talk to Matt.

You wanted to talk to Matt.

You had tried, more than once.

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

A tech problem.

A schedule change.

Another fan emergency.

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

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

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

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

And so did he.

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

The next, he crumpled to the floor.

For a moment, everything else stopped.

The world narrowed to a single point.

Folio was the first to move.

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

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

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

Jolly didn’t hesitate, bolting toward the coolers.

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

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

You pressed your palm to his cheek and forehead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tonight proved it.

He wasn’t invincible.

May 19th, 2023. Asheville, NC

You couldn’t find Noah anywhere after the soundcheck.

It wasn’t like him to just vanish.

Not unless something was really wrong.

You asked around but no one had seen him.

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

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

Your heart dropped.

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

And there he was.

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

His hands were trembling visibly.

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

It looked like he wanted to disappear.

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

"Hey..." you said softly.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t lift his head.

Didn’t even flinch.

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

Still nothing.

The silence between you stretched long and thin.

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

He flinched but didn’t pull away.

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

"I don’t feel like me anymore."

Your chest ached so fiercely it hurt to breathe.

You squeezed his shoulder, grounding him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t deny it.

Didn’t make some sarcastic remark to deflect.

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

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

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

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

You didn’t say anything yet.

You just sat with him in the dark.

Letting him know he wasn’t alone.

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

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

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

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

His whole body was shaking.

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

But it was too much.

Finally, finally, the dam broke.

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

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

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

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

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

May 21st, 2023. Myrtle Beach, SC

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

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

You blinked at him.

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

"How bad?" Noah asked flatly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You turned your head toward him.

"Noah?" you whispered into the dark.

No answer.

Only the faintest sound of whimpering.

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

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

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

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

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

He blinked rapidly, trying to reorient himself.

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

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

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

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

He didn’t answer right away.

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

But then, voice rough and broken, he whispered,

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

You listened, heart breaking all over again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t speak again.

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

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

May 23rd, 2023. Raleigh, NC

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Nothing?" Matt asked, voice raw.

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

Everyone's head snapped toward the entrance.

Noah stood there.

Eyes glassy and distant.

Blood dripping from his hand.

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

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

He gave a crooked, exhausted smile.

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

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

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

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

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

Matt and Folio were right behind you.

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

In the elevator, the silence was heavy.

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

You squeezed his arm lightly, a silent reassurance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A whisper. Barely audible.

"I can't do this anymore."

Everything in the room froze.

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

You looked up at him, heart thudding.

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

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

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

Matt blinked at you, confused and tired.

"Notice what?"

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

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

As you spoke, Noah’s shoulders shook silently.

At first, none of you noticed.

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

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

You could feel the way he trembled under your touch.

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

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

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

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

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

Noah didn’t answer, just shook harder.

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

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

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

No one in a rush to move.

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

May 24th, 2023. Raleigh, NC

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Feels the same," he muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May 25th, 2023. Columbus, OH

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

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

"Pressure,"

"Unfair,"

"Fucking tired."

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

Then. A shift.

The curtains stirred, and there he was.

Noah.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then. Noises from the hallway.

Heavy footsteps. Voices calling out.

"Noah?"

"Bro, where are you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For a beat, nobody moved.

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

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

"I’m sorry," he muttered.

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

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

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

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

They all held on a little tighter at that.

May 26th, 2023. Grand Rapids, MI

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May 27th, 2023. St. Louis, MO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peace.

Safety.

Home.

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

May 28th, 2023. Fort Wayne, IN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You bit your lip, emotions swelling under your ribs.

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

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

"Deal," you said, voice lighter now.

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

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

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

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

The band didn’t just rely on Noah.

They were starting to rely on you, too.

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

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

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

Not if you could help it.

May 30th, 2023. Des Moines, IA

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

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

You didn’t hear Noah approach at first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The touch startled something warm and aching in your chest.

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

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

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

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

You tightened your hand around his, steady and sure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wasn’t going anywhere.

Neither were you.

June 1st, 2023. Omaha, NE

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Of course," you said. "What's up?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He inhaled shakily.

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath caught audibly in your throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was only Noah.

Only you.

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

June 2nd, 2023. Kansas City, MO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Of course."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was a family.

And you had never been more at home.

June 3rd, 2023. Memphis, TN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes, dark and uncertain, searched yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

June 4th, 2023. Wichita, KS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hesitated, breathing heavy, forehead pressed to yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Noah sucked in a breath, eyes devouring you.

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

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

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

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

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

He gave the softest nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn't make you beg twice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He kissed you again, smiling against your lips.

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

The future didn't feel so scary anymore.

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

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[calebs-spouse]

Spilled Milk — Caleb

Summary: A cutie SFW barista coworkers!au with a surprise (: (im well aware it’s a little cliché LOL)

Word Count: 1.2K

A/N: This is my first oneshot back after not writing for about 4 years! I hope you enjoy it! <3

————————————————

“Hey Caleb!”

You called out with a smile, looping your apron around your neck as you made your way behind the all-too-familiar counter. Your hands found the ties and wrapped them behind your back, scooting butt first towards the friendly brunette with a “Tie me?”

Caleb turned around, perfect teeth on display as he let out a huff of a laugh, violet eyes sending an ‘I’m over you’ kind of roll in your direction. “Well look who finally decided to show up.” He replied, hands replacing yours on the ties. He tugged, crossing one over the other and looping them together in a bow. “Too tight?”

“No that’s perfect. Thanks! You’re the best!” A laugh sounded as you went to join in the rush of fulfilling coffee orders. Sure, you had shown up late, but you knew how to get right into it. Maybe if you were lucky, your boss won’t say a thing about it.

…. Or Caleb would cover you.

…. Like he always did.

You grabbed a mug, filling it up with some dark roast. You never fully understood how people took their coffee so plain, on your breaks you always snuck in an overly fancy drink for yourself. This order was a bit odd, but not unreasonable. Latte art on a black coffee? Well, you suppose you could do that. Not a huge deal.

The cold metal of the milk container met your hand, tapping it on the counter a couple of times to level everything out for better pouring. And just when you had started, all concentrated with pursed lips--

“Caleb!!”

The brunette had hip-checked you. Hard. Sending the milk out of the container and onto your hand, dripping down your arm and onto the floor. And the asshole was giggling about it.

“I’m so sick of you! Oh my God. You asshole!!”

You turned towards him, arms held up at your sides with your mouth agape as you stared down at the mess your ex-favorite coworker had caused. He was still chuckling a bit as he grabbed a nearby towel, cleaning up the counter space and grabbing your arm to wipe off both that and your hand.

“You can’t hate me and you know it. I’ll help make a new one. You just looked too concentrated to let it slide.”

Your hand lifted, giving a hard smack to his chest. A small yelp left his mouth as you stole the towel from his hands, twisting it and aiming at his ass, whipping it at him.

“Ah! Pip! That hurts!” He managed to speak through heavy laughter, the two of you now running frantically around the counters in a cartoon-style chase.

Apparently the noise was enough to alert your boss, who came barreling around the corner. His voice was raised, shooting you a stern glare with a pointed finger.

“You two! What is going on here? First you were late to your shift and now this? My office. Now.“

You skirted to a halt, feet together and hands at your sides. An embarrassed blush spread across your face, followed by a sheepish expression at being yelled at. It was hard to speak, not knowing what to say, especially in front of the couple of customers that had just entered the shop, having witnessed what just occurred.

“I-”

But before you could say anything, Caleb interrupted, stepping between you and your boss and acting as a protective barrier. A humiliation shield. Of sorts..

“It was my fault. All of it. They had texted me earlier asking what time our shift was supposed to start. I gave them the wrong time, and didn’t let them know when I realized.” He lied.

“And the chasing thing. I had bumped into them on purpose while they were making a coffee. I started it.” Well, at least that part was truthful.

There was a silence that was entirely too long. It felt like years, when in reality it only lasted a few seconds. Your boss huffed, crossing his arms and staring the two of you down, head slightly tilted in thought. It seemed like Caleb’s confession had thrown him off. Like he didn’t know what to do now.

“Fine then. The two of you get to stay behind tonight and close while your other coworkers get to go home early.”

You breathed out a secret sigh, your body relaxing a bit as you recognized that your punishment could be worse. It has happened a couple of times before, you and Caleb caught in the midst of antics and forced to be the end of the night’s cleanup detail. At least this way your boss didn’t have to be around. And being with Caleb was always nice.

… Incredibly nice.

Even if he was a little shit.

As your boss turned to go back to the small office, Caleb had turned, gesturing a tiny smirk at you ended with a wink. Maybe he knew exactly what he was doing. Actually, it was blatantly obvious he did. You couldn’t help but smile back, stance becoming a bit shy as you returned to work.

The rest of the shift consisted of the two of you stealing glances at each other and attempting to hold back giggles. Thank god you two could communicate with looks too and not just words. And more importantly, no more spilled art milk.

True to his word, your boss shuffled everyone else out of the shop at the end of the night except for you two, leaving the keys on the counter. You grabbed the mop. Caleb turned on the music. Some oldies, like Frank Sinatra. It was pleasant.

And if you two danced a bit on the clock? Well, who was really there to see it?

The tag team you made was very efficient. 30 minutes for actual work-related things. 30 minutes for goofing off. Really, where else did you have to go after this anyway?

Once your closing checklist was complete, Caleb lifted himself up onto the counter, seated and staring at you with a mischievous smile. You sighed, a grin of your own forming as you rolled your eyes.

“What is that look for?” You questioned, staring him down with a raised brow.

“I have a confession to make.”

“What did you do?” A laugh, a bit of a confused tone.

“I planned this.”

Your brows furrowed, blinking a couple of times while you processed what he said. “What do you mean you planned this?”

He chuckled, tossing a leftover sugar packet wrapper into the bin next to the counter. “I knew bumping you would set you off. I also knew that ‘big guy’ would make us close together. Here, one second.”

He got up, hopping off the counter and walking into the employee lounge where the storage lockers were. You could hear him opening and shutting his locker, his returning footsteps squeaking slightly against the freshly mopped floor.

When he reappeared, he was holding a single flower. A pink rose.

“I wanted some time alone so I could ask you before leaving.” He paused, moving to stand in front of you while he held the rose out.

“Do you have any plans this Valentine’s Day?”

You giggled, looking down at the floor bashfully before you glanced back up, eyes meeting his with a happy sparkle to them. Your fingers pinched the stem of the rose, taking it from his hands and responding playfully.

“I do now.”

[oddballwriter]

Hello! I have a vague idea for something, hope that's alright! I've seen other people write and it got me thinking about more and it got me thinking about more scenarios and possibilities and I started thinking about dbbq!ena x reader where the reader gets hurt and ena freaks out cause she doesn't know how to help or handle it cause she doesn't know how human or organic?? bodies work since her world and the entities there are so different from ours. Could be a smaller injury (deep cut that's just bleeding a lot but not enough to cause major problems or something) or could be a major injury (losing a limb, long deep cut, idk dawg can't think of examples, sorry) and she again, freaks out. It'd be completely up to you on what the injury is and how severe, doest matter to me. Writing this also made me wonder on whether or not an injury could get infected in her world. Is bacteria the same there? Or would it just not get infected? Also, sorry my examples aren't great and I didn't give many, I tried and my mind went blank like I'm taking a test, lol. You absolutely don't have to write this if you don't want!

Anyways, I love your writing and your doing great! Have a great day <3

Small Mishap of Personal Property

Dream BBQ ENA’s reaction to her partner getting injured

Warning: Gender neutral reader (pronouns and gender never mentioned or used). Reader getting injured (minor cut on the hand), bleeding, and pain. Implications that ENA is having a trauma-based response towards reader’s injury.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

You were trying to make a jump right behind ENA. She managed to make it fine, but you’re foot tripping on the ledge of the platform. You were set to land perfectly fine on the ground, but the knowledge that your jump went a bit wrong triggered your instincts to brace yourself for the fall or to catch yourself. The momentum made you slide just a little on your extended hands and you felt a sharp pain on one of them in particular. When you get up and check yourself for any scraps and then look to your hand, you realize that you’ve cut yourself on something and that’s what the sharp pain was.

It looks a bit deep and it’s actively bleeding, and of course stings with pain, but it’s not that bad. You’d probably just need to wash the wound and wrap it with something

But you hear the sound of ENA glitching, with bother her voices making noise. You look up at her and she’s already lunging to you and taking your hand

You can see it on her face that she’s panicking and worried

Her salesperson side is jabbering about “critical work ethic violation” and “liability to precious cargo” to which her meanie side comes and starts looking genuinely panicked rather than scolding you

She’s really freaking out, you can’t fully understand why. Maybe she’s so worried because she still doesn’t fully understand how injuries work for you and knows that avoiding pain and injuries is a thing “programmed into your squishy code source (your brain)”, and thinks that all injuries are bad for you. Or a response that she has that comes from a more… troubling time.

Either way, you make an effort to reassure her that you’re fine and just need to clean and bandage it

She looks at you confused. Like you just said a concept that is alien to her.

…maybe it is? Maybe people don’t get injured the same way you do as a human. Maybe when people here get hurt they just regenerate or something. Maybe this is the first time ENA’s ever heard of having to clean and dress a wound. Do you even need to clean it? Do infections exist here? Like bacteria? What the hell would you even clean it with? There’s nothing here like actual water. Or anything that can be a bandage

You set for ripping off a piece of your clothes that would work

ENA watches you intensely, like she’s watching you do surgery as you wrap your hand and tie it to keep it from slipping off

You show your hand to her and say “See? All better.”

She visibly calms down and her salesperson side pipes up, commenting “Fascinating. Have we mitigated the collateral damage of our form?”

You tell her yes, through you might have to take the safer route next time till it your hand heals and avoid getting another one and possibly freak her out again

She agrees and vows to “take less business risks when in the possession of highly valuable properties of my admirations.”

[misskingshit]

So close yet so far

summary: They both want it with all their might, they need it. But how difficult can it be to face their own fears just to be together?

note: I really hope nobody notices how much I fcking love Bucky lol. xoxo

chapter I - chapter II - chapter III - chapter IV

Trouble in a T-Shirt

The kitchen was quiet at dawn, the world outside still dark with the faintest hint of morning creeping across the horizon. A soft orange glow bled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the sleek, modern kitchen. The quiet hum of the coffee machine filled the space, its soft hiss cutting through the otherwise serene morning.

A half-eaten bowl of cereal rested on the counter, forgotten. The spoon lay abandoned beside it, coated in sticky milk. The kitchen had the calm of someone just waking up. But then, you walked in.

Barefoot, hair slightly tousled from sleep, and wrapped in an oversized MIT T-shirt that belonged to your dad. It sagged off one shoulder, hanging loosely, practically falling off your frame. The shirt dipped low enough to show a delicate curve of collarbone, skin just barely exposed. Your carefree demeanor and the simplicity of your presence had an almost magnetic effect on Bucky.

He stood at the counter, a water bottle loosely gripped in his hand, the other bracing himself against the cold marble. His breath had just started to even out after his morning run, his muscles still warm from the exertion. But that was all forgotten as he caught sight of you.

His breath caught in his chest, and for a split second, he forgot how to breathe. He looked at you from the corner of his eye, watching the way the fabric of the shirt shifted as you moved, teasing him without even trying. You didn’t seem to notice—at least, not immediately.

You made your way over to the fridge, opening it with a small yawn as the hem of your shirt slid just a little higher, exposing the tops of your thighs.

Maybe you noticed him staring. Maybe you didn’t.

“Morning, soldier,” you called over your shoulder, voice still thick with sleep, teasing, but warm. Your smile was slow, lazy, and the kind that made his pulse skip.

Bucky froze, his hand still gripping the counter. The sound of the coffee machine seemed too loud now, and every muscle in his body tightened as his gaze trailed from your exposed skin up to your face. A silent war raged within him.

“You should put on something decent,” he grumbled after a beat, his words feeling heavy in the air. He grabbed a mug, more to distract himself than to get the coffee.

You didn’t answer right away, but instead tilted your head to the side, letting the shirt rise just a little higher as you crossed your arms beneath your chest. You knew exactly what you were doing.

“Decent?” You feigned shock, a little laugh escaping your lips as you turned toward him, raising an eyebrow. “I live here, Barnes. Should I wear a ball gown to get orange juice?”

“You should wear something that doesn’t make me a war criminal,” he muttered, his voice quieter this time, as though the very thought of seeing you like this was making him crack.

You couldn’t help it. You laughed—light, but full of mischief. “Funny. I didn’t know you were still so easily flustered, grandpa.”

Bucky stiffened at the nickname, his jaw tightening. “You’re twenty. And Tony Stark’s daughter.”

You leaned into the fridge, the sound of the juice bottle being lifted almost too loud in the silence between you. You sipped slowly, eyes locked on him the whole time, unblinking.

“And you’re a hundred and six, and still manage to look criminal in black tactical gear,” you shot back, a dangerous, teasing smile tugging at your lips. “What’s your point?”

Bucky cleared his throat, his hand gripping the mug so tightly it almost seemed like it would crack. His gaze flickered away, unable to hold your gaze for too long. “My point is… you need to stop messing around before someone gets the wrong idea.”

You sauntered past him, close enough that your arm brushed his as you walked by. It was almost as if you were daring him to react.

“I think the wrong idea would be assuming I don’t know what I’m doing,” you murmured, your voice low and knowing as you passed him.

His breath hitched, his pulse pounding in his ears. He was frozen in place, watching your retreating figure, his mind racing.

For a moment, he could hardly remember how to breathe.

You didn’t wait for him to respond. Instead, you walked out of the kitchen, a slight sway to your hips, and that same grin tugging at your lips.

Behind you, Bucky stood still, eyes narrowed in frustration, his coffee forgotten, the mug still gripped tightly in his hand. He swallowed, trying to collect his thoughts. “God help me,” he muttered to himself.

Turbulence (And Not the Flight Kind)

The Quinjet hummed in the air, its engines cutting through the clouds somewhere over Eastern Europe. The interior was cool, sterile, with the faintest buzz of the air conditioning keeping things just tolerable. Still, the air inside felt heavier than it should. Stale, laden with unspoken tension.

You sat across from him, as casual as ever. Your sunglasses were perched low on your nose, and you lazily twirled a red lollipop between your fingers. The stick clicked against your teeth as you sucked on it, all the while knowing exactly what it was doing to Bucky.

He hadn’t looked at you directly since takeoff. But he was still aware of you—always aware of you.

You weren’t even trying to bait him, not really. But you enjoyed the way his gaze kept flickering to the corner of your frame. You could almost feel his eyes on you, like a phantom presence.

You made a show of leaning back in your seat, stretching your arms high above your head. It was a deliberate motion, designed to shift the hem of your tank top just enough to expose a teasing sliver of skin.

The way his gaze snapped toward you—barely a fraction of a second—told you everything you needed to know.

His fingers tightened on the armrest.

“You know,” you said slowly, voice languid as you popped the lollipop into your mouth, “for someone who’s supposed to be a trained assassin, you really don’t hide your reactions very well.”

His jaw tightened. “You’re bored.”

You tilted your head, meeting his eyes from beneath your lashes. “I’m entertained, actually,” you said, drawing out the words like you had all the time in the world. “Watching you try not to look at me is better than in-flight movies.”

“Cut it out.”

“Cut what out?” you asked, voice sweet with mock innocence. “You mean sitting here quietly? Or existing?”

“You’re Tony’s daughter.”

You groaned, leaning back in your seat with a dramatic roll of your eyes. “God, is that going to be your excuse forever?”

“It’s not an excuse. It’s a fact.”

You uncrossed your legs slowly, deliberately, sliding a little forward in your seat until your knee brushed his. You didn’t pull away, and neither did he.

Instead, his voice was quieter, laced with frustration. “You like messing with me.”

You leaned forward, your lips curling into a wicked smile. “I like getting a reaction out of you.”

His breath hitched. He was so close to snapping, but his control was still there, just barely.

His lips parted, like he was about to say something—something that could change everything. But he didn’t. Instead, he turned away, his eyes fixed on the window.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he muttered, a low growl in his voice.

You smiled slowly. “Don’t I?”

And for the next ten minutes, neither of you spoke. But the air between you hummed with tension. Want, unspoken, undeniable.

When the Quinjet finally landed, you stood first, taking your time as you made your way past him. As you did, you leaned down slightly, your hand brushing his shoulder with a subtle grace. Your breath ghosted against his jaw, a whisper of something far too close.

“I think you like the chase,” you murmured, voice light, teasing.

His eyes darkened in a way that made your heart beat a little faster. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep pretending.

“I think you should be careful,” he murmured back, his voice raw.

You smiled, that same infuriating smirk tugging at your lips. “Where’s the fun in that?”

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, struggling to breathe.

part 2 posted!

[kokii-omii]

The Sharkblings are cooked.

WARNING IT'S EXTREMELY LONG, ALMOST 11K SYMBOLS LONG.

DISCLAIMER BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE ADDING ONE: this thing might(And most likely is) out of character. Most likely insanely out of character. Also warning, a lot of text. A lot. I did not lied when i said that i love overdetailing. I LOVE OVERDETAILING.

Also none of this is serious, i just think way too much, you can treat it as a silly fanon, or you can make it canon, i don't really care :3/positive/silly

Also the entire thing is 100% Platonic of course, i might be weird, but im not THAT weird😭

Okay first some really small Soshark context that you need to have to understand the headcanons. Soshark is a shark merfolk with extreme obsession with Performances and Showtime. His signature spell allows him to summon fish skeletons and control them. Thats all you need, you have the context, i think.

Ok lets start the intense Headcanons. Here you go have a Sharkblings art that i definitely will not overuse in other pictures in this ask lol/foreshadowing. Also sorry if i drew him wrong im sorry i didn't saw the full colour merman art of him so i just based it off his chibi/silly

P.s. i only realised that their mouths look weird, i headcannoned Sharks having gigantic ass mouths and forgot that it's not canon, elp

- I think some sharks would use sunken ships as homes and live in them, because "haha those silly fish go see a ship but it's actually shark". a silly hc that barely matters, but i wanted to add some context

- That doesn't really have much thought to it, but i think their parents weren't paying enough attention to them, which tbh is a wild thing to say, but hear me out on this one, it will allow some of other headcanons to happen later. These 2 are random neighbourhood kids with no adult supervision that just do random goofies.

-I think Soshark and Leo might not be the only siblings, maybe there was like 8 of them, but most of them got eaten, lol. I think these 2 were the troublemaker brothers.

-I think they would barely pay attention to eachother until at some point Soshark discovered his signature spell (he got it at like 9 because plot point) and one of the first big skeletons he managed to add into his collection was a shark skeleton, that was just laying somewhere at the bottom of the sea. As he was trying to learn how to control it properly, Leo might've noticed it. I feel like Soshark might've agreed to build a shark skeleton armour around Leo to make him into an even bigger shark. They end up going to the playground where ALL THE KID FISH START SCREAMING RUNNING CRYING because of how big, sharky, boney and scary SkeLeo looks, Teachers notice that and kick them out((

-After that they probably would start talk more, probably in one of lame middle school classes they would get bored and would sneak out of the class and run away. I bet Soshark would beg for him to go on a criminal plan with him "LEO LEO LEO LEO WHAT IF WE STEAL THE TEACHER'S KEYS AND OPEN THE NERD'S LOCKER TO STEAL THEIR NOTES!!!!" "no bro thats stupid" but after some whining he agrees, immediately regretting it after they get caught and added into a "local school criminals" board or something. Soshark is gigging because he feels like "We are one of those troublemakers from shows that get in some weird shenanigans all the time, but audience loves them because they are silly!" and Leo is so done "I hate you". But they still end up going on like 10 more criminal plans in the next school year.

-These bros were not raised properly and it shows, i think they would start a bet over who can steal a stone from a big white whale's cave and not anger it, but eventually they both end up awakening it and they swim away screaming trying to not get eaten. Their parents are sitting at the top of their sunken ship house smoking a cigar and giggling like those rich men playing golf. Except they are random ass sharks drinking fish blood or something

"-Honey i thinm our kids are being eaten alive"

*AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!*

"-Let kids be kids darling, they are having fun, aren't they?"

*HELP US HELP US HELP HELP PLEASE!!!!"

"-Ha💥ha💥ha💥ha💥"

"-Ha💥ha💥ha💥ha💥"

i am sorry but this joke feels so much funnier when it's absurdly big and fancy, it takes a lot of space, but it's worth it💔

-They are lowkey the "Extremely talented superstar and their roomate, who is absolutely sick of hearing their ass sing everyday and would move out if the rent wasnt cheap asf and they weren't broke" dynamic that ive just made up, but i really like it.

-I think part of the reason why they would work as a siblings is because Soshark is small ass shark who definitely got laughed at, especially considering how weird and nerdy he can be, and a giant(at least until he goes on land..) shark that hates him, but he can't be assed to tell him to fuck off. And the skeletons are fire.

-Soshark definitely starts fake crying, whining, screaming, the second someone starts annoying him. Like "Soshark lol you look like a nerd" "WAAAAAAA UEUEUEUUEUE THEY ARE ATTACKING ME!!!!!!" until Leo gets so fucking pissed of hearing him yell and he comes and scares the bullies away. Most of the time people are not even bullying him, he just loves seeing how they run away scared when they see a big shark, and he is a good actor. Leo probably would say "GRRR STOP DOING THIS SHI IT'S ANNOYING" but he enjoys scaring people with his big fish looks, so it's actually a an equal exchange

-They lowkey feel like that a seagull that randomly decided to steal your bread one morning from your window. You are pissed asf, but next day it comes to your window again, it stares at you and you give it a small piece of bread out of pity. But at some point the seagull comes to your window every single day, you hate it, but you keep giving it bread and you genuinely feel worried when the seagull skips a day and feel relieved when it comes back even if you absolutely hate the annoying ass seagull. Sharkblings fr

-I think both of them are the type who would watch a horror movie together with their siblings and wait for the ugliest Eldrich monster to come out just to scream "IT'S YOU IT LOOKS LIKE YOU!!!" at the sibling pointing at the monster. Leo feels like the type to do that, and Soshark is just enjoying the chaos of sillies.

-Considering Leo being a fish of rage and Soshark being a showman, i think we can see where it goes.. or no? They will start an illegal underwater middle school boxing ring where people bring fish skeletons and use them as valuables to gamble on. That was definitely Soshark's idea after he saw someone who was putting bets on who will win in a school fight. Leo is being dragged into this for being Soshark's friend and brother, but he doesn't really mind because i think he would enjoy beating small fish's faces

ignore the quality of this thing. i did it at the last moment, i ran out of stamina okay.

Why i made Leo look nothing like Leo, what was I smoking. Whatever, slay cool fish guy or something😭🙏

-The illegal school ring was closed after one of the audience members didn't reported it to the teachers, around 30% of Soshark's current skeleton fish collection came from this ring. Azul would be so proud.

-Leo IS getting dragged into Soshark's theatre performances, his consent is not required. No ass in this lame ses wants to play the Damsel in Distress in his dramatic musical, time to put on a dress! ..Leo is definitely traumatised from that.

Remember when i said that there will be alternative universes? i did not lied. Alternative universe time.

Okay so, you might think that if both Soshark and Leo are in Octavinelle then they would just share a dorm? nah.

Errrm actually🤓☝️ having them in one dorm affects the plot and might even ruin a few story plot moments. Like Soshark's "being a performer in mostro lounge" arc actually would get damaged if we include Leo in it. Same as potential Leo lore can also get fucked by Soshark being in the same dorm/school.🤓☝️

I have a solution, Alternative Universes

ignore the way ive drew human Leo here, i need for it all to fit into one style okay

So since having both of them ruins the lore, instead the universe will have a fork based on who will get the NRC letter. I basically explained the thing on the pic, but basically:

-if Soshark gets the letter, then average Soshark lore happens, but with Leo being somewhere in Coral Sea

-Leo au is the opposite, where the average Leo lore happens, but with Soshark in Coral Sea.

Also these universes have small differences because i think they are interesting or funny. It would be hilarious if Leo actually gets a fitting big human form in every single universe, except the ones where he is in NRC. Thats so goofy, bro is not only shrinked, but also is the only AU Leo variant who does that, it's hilarious 😭

Also Soshark's hair colour, but whatever, this is not about him, he can wait until i write a post explaining his entire lore later.

Also a Silly bonus AU where Soshark and Leo do live in Octavinelle together, but the lore is fucked and this universe can exist solely for memes.

i need to separate the chapters of this rant somehow, i ran out of pictures, i gotta pull out my memes

Headcanon continuation, but they are now older because previous ones were Kidsharkblings, now they are Oldsharkblings. i love the Sharkblings, thats a silly word

-As they grew up and Soshark finally got some other friends, they definitely stopped being friendenemyblings, instead they are enemiblings now.

-It does have an explanation tho, in AUs where Soshark goes into the NRC with or without Leo, he does get friends and get popular, because of which they grow distant, Leo is happy of that, he had better things to do rather than sticking next to a random theatre kid who just happens to come from the same spawner as him.

-if they were to live in Octavinelle together, they would definitely ignore eachother's existence and pretend they don't know eachother. But secretly they both wish for the right moment to let out all their sibling's dirty secrets and ruin their reputation! uhh, at least Soshark does, he loves thinking of himself as the popular high school musical girl. He better pull out some of the "Leo once bit his own tongue and ended up walking with a bandage over it for the next month"-aah lore and make some drama.

-if Soshark sees shrunken Leo he starts actively laughing and playing to be his babysitter. Absolutely dies of laughter the more angry Leo gets, but the next time two of them get in water and Leo gets his form back, Soshark will get absolutely cooked, probably will be force trapped inside of some random ass barrel as Leo kicks him around laughing. Pretty equal, i guess.

-In Leo AU during the music festival that Vil overblotted in(i forgot the name don't look at me), he will probably be forced to summon Soshark for a visit into the Octavinelle from the Coral Sea just so he can help [insert name] with their performance. A typical kid show trope happens with "Oh no, no one remembers Leo when his cool autistic brother is around!", but he just lures Soshark into the water and transforms into a big fish, takes him and YEEETS him into the unknown with his shark muscles. He gets yeeted like Team R and never comes back again/hj. Leo tells the dorm that Soshark had an emergency and had to go into the sea again(he is probably laying in a pile of seaweed somewhere 50km away passed out where no one will find his body/j).

I have more silly hcs, but this thing is like SO LONG??? I will spare you and leave like 5 more headcanons for the black friday, this poor Ask will not survive being any longer 😭🙏

i do have 6 more memes tho(finally, the foreshadowing of overusing the mershark art from earlier is paid off!...)

Chat i think i might be completely out of character and absolutely off everything that can be off. But it's okay at least if i will see this in 50 years i can think of how weird it was.

I remember i said i will make a family tree, and i did make it, but i reached the limit of images per ask. But i have it, probably will send it in reposts to this one if I won't forget(i probably will)

Also the family tree lowkey makes no sense so whatever, not a big loss.

Thats funny to look at yourself and be like "Dude... did this guy just randomly made a 5362 paragraph long list of headcanons of his and some random person's ocs being siblings..." and like omg, this guy is weird asf. Wait thats me omg. That actually looks really weird with no context, but trust, i overdetail every Soshark detail like that, i am not a scary person obsessed with Leo, he just looked silly and i liked him he is super goofy silly little shork.

Thank you for reading my new book called "i love overdetailing characters". Thank you Koki for allowing me to throw this gigantic Whatever this even is at this point. And thanks for creating your silly ocs so one day i found one of them and made a giant list of headcanons of them

this thing hits so hard, giant wall of purple text.

p.s. i actually accidentally closed my Tumblr tab while writing and recovered the text back from the screenshots i was taking. This hing was done yesterday, but this thing made me go late on deadlines for this thing(there was no deadline)😭😭😭

i like how youre honestly just as insane as me when it comes to rambling about oc lore

the stuff you said sounds funny so this is definitely Omi approved, and you're actually really close with Leo's shark form

you've said so much that i honestly don't know what else to say other than i think this is really funny especially the textposts😭😭

[aeymii]

Sometimes, you just gotta sit back and draw this a-hole✨

[laserbread]

I have bunch of art I should post here at some point, but for now have these formers I scribbled from memory with the default ms paint palette

[ssreeder]

Chapters: 23/32 Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Aang/Katara (Avatar), others to be tagged later - Relationship Characters: Sokka (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar), Aang (Avatar), Katara (Avatar), Toph Beifong, Jet (Avatar), Suki (Avatar), Kyoshi Warriors (Avatar), Iroh (Avatar), Jee (Avatar), Hakoda (Avatar), Bato (Avatar), A bunch of OCs, Long Feng, Joo Dee (Avatar), Azula (Avatar), Mai (Avatar), Ty Lee (Avatar), Ozai (Avatar), General Fong (Avatar) Additional Tags: Violence, Blood and Injury, War, Minor Character Death, Rape/Non-con Elements, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Attempted Sexual Assault, Major Character Injury, Amputation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, possible major character death, themes similar to the first two books, Sexism, Racism (like has already been written in first two books), dark themes, Human Trafficking, Slavery, Just a lot of dark war-like themes, there will be a battle, Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Injury Recovery, Healing, Underage Sex - Freeform, Underage Drinking, Animal Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Warnings each chapter, Hopefully some healing for Zuko finally, no promises, but that’s the goal, Reunions, hopefully a happy ending, Sokka gets some healing too, Non-Consensual Drug Use Series: Part 3 of Leaving It All Behind Summary:

-This is the last book of the series LIAB, please go read the other two books before this, or you will be very confused-

Zuko has been taken by the Earth Kingdom army to who-knows-where, and Sokka is determined to get him back.

But he can’t do it alone.

With Suki and the Kyoshi Warriors by his side, Sokka is headed to Ba Sing Se to find Katara and Aang so they can go rescue his fire bender.

Things aren’t as easy as he had hoped. Corruption, lies, and unknown horrors await them inside the city’s walls. None of this is helping Sokka’s mental well-being.

Hakoda and his men face a problem of their own as Azula approaches with the intentions of making it rain fire.

Sokka and Zuko will both find themselves having to reintegrate back into a life they thought they left behind, with people they hardly remember. It isn’t easy for anyone, especially when they don’t recognize the person standing in front of them.

[zdechlyryba]

an edek themed collage 🪲

[busterbby]

— they accidentally brush hands.

fluff. gn!reader. ichiro, jiro, saburo, ghost!ichiro, ghost!jiro, ghost!saburo.

Note : somethin’ (somewhat) short and sweet! Absolutely not my idea as I saw it while reading some hcs and thought, ‘hey, this is so cute.’ So voila lol. It’s my first time (properly) writing for the ghost versions!! Obvi they didn’t introduce ghost jiro or sabu yet, and ghost ichi barely had any screen time lmao, but I tried my best to portray them with what I think they’d be like in my mind! So they’re ofc ooc, but regardless, I hope you guys enjoy!!

Ichiro is a sweetheart. He flusters at the slightest touch, though he tries to act unfazed, as if he didn’t even notice; it’s only an accident, of course — nothing much else to it. But, for the slightest of moments, you can see his ‘cool’ and ‘calm’ demeanor waver. The slight pink on his cheeks, the mirage of his gaze, even the flutter of his heart.

Reliable and dependable big bro, oh so strong and who you’ve never seen falter — a pure mess at one touch. somehow, it’s cute. His knuckles are brash and rough, yet now they’re oh so delicate and fragile, as if he’d broken the bones in there once more.

He tries to clear his throat and move on — again, an accident; he’s only walking you home after hanging out after all, as friends. He’s a gentleman after all! But you notice how he seems to avoid your gaze the entire rest of the way.

(Oh. Ichiro can’t stop thinking about holding your hand now ; his fingers seem to ache for yours, his heart too. Ichiro sighs embarrassingly as he tosses the shoujo he was reading off to the side. He’s nothing short of a touch starved mess)

Jiro is quick to blush, cute. He, mindlessly, lets out a very puppish yelp (before burning an even brighter pink at how utterly embarrassing that noise was, coming out of his mouth) and is quick to cover himself with the brim of his cap. He can’t help but groan meek; that simple brush makes him weak.

There’s a chill that crawls up his spine and up to the very nerves of his fingertips — throughout his entire nervous system, in fact, an electric shock. And his heart gets all rewired too. It seems to beat to a different tune now.

He’s innocent when it comes to these sorta things; he has a big heart after all and falls hard. He likes you! a lot. So such little things affect him greatly. His knuckles seem to tingle and burn from where you’ve brushed — though, of course, it’s only in his mind. But it damn sure bothers him, Jiro groans.

He thinks about it the whole rest of the day. And his heart skips a damn beat each and every time.

Saburo is quick to pull his hand back. instinctively, that is. Even if his brows contort and lips frown, like he’s confused, grossed out? But make no mistake! He’s actually in shambles on the inside from that simple brush (oh God, he’s a fool). He’s a pure and utter mess, more so than both his brothers. His heart is actually nothing but a pile of mush now.

And even if he looks away from you the entire rest of the way he walks you home from school, even if he avoids you, it’s impossible not to the notice just how bright he burns. Steam may as well be coming out of his head. And his hand, annoyingly, burns hot too. like he just stupidly put it on a stove top.

No, no. There’s no possible way he likes you that much, Saburo groans. It should’ve just been a simply crush, nothing more nothing less. But.. getting this worked up over a simple, accidental brush of the hands? He’s the fool, through and through.

Ghost!Ichiro is surprised — he can’t hide it on his face. He’s usually so suave, so confident and charming; such accidental brushes should mean nothing to him. He’s the one that usually ends up stealing your heart in such little ways, and yet..

He’s not used to such tender touch or the skip of his heart. He’s not used to feeling so weak, in his chest and his knees. And hm, ghost Ichi wonders, why his hand burns warmer than his other.

But, he quite likes this. He likes you, and he likes the way you make him feel so strange and alive on the inside; is this what is meant by a bond? to protect the most precious to you? Ghost Ichi can’t help but grin.

Mira is a wonderous place after all.

(Next time, he probably has the audacity to actually hold your hand and fluster you instead)

Ghost!Jiro likes it. He won’t short — he wants to hold your hand. Ghost Jiro would love nothing more than to be yours. And when your knuckles ‘accidentally’ brush his, ghost Jiro can’t help but grin; I mean, you brushed your hand against his because you want to hold it, don’t you? It all makes sense in his mind.

He takes the initiative and would hold your hand right then and there; simple brushes won’t do, no no. His fingers take yours, and ghost Jiro intertwines your hand with his, giving them a squeeze and holding them tight. just like what a real couple would do. See? They interlock perfectly too, he can’t help but grin, perhaps a bit too confident and full.

He’s impulsive and quick, much more so, and ghost Jiro will let you know exactly how he feels. He may be code, but his heart is entirely real.

Ghost!Saburo is much too cute, much too shy. It’s easy to see just how much that small touch had such a big impact on him; you’d think he’s shaking a bit, at how overwhelmed his system seems to get. but it’s not written into his code! how to act when your heart starts pounding and you accidentally touch hands with your crush.

He holds his hand close to chest, right where his beating heart lay, and ghost Saburo blushes so bright that his circuits may overheat. But, truthfully, he’s happy — almost giddy. Ghost Sabu wonders if he’s even allowed to like you in this way; he knows he’s shouldn’t, but he can’t stop himself from getting too happy at that accidental touch. He can’t help but fall a little harder for you.

And, he hopes you’re fine with him imagining all sorts of scenarios in his mind after this. like, what it’d be to hold your hand and walk down the streets of mira ikebukuro, or to perhaps share an ice cream. Ghost Sabu knows he’s not the best guy around, but he really wants to be that sort of guy for you..

[puppppppppy]

for like 3 weeks i was wondering why i was sleeping so much and felt listless. and just now I managed to email 3 people and responded to a month old message in the span of an hour because I got back to TAKING MY FUCKIN MEDS..........

[organised-disaster]

Uhhhhhhhhh mandbela catalgoue correee

I spent a hot minute blending the ghost frequency into the music lol

[gifti3]

so yea running servers isnt like a cheap thing is what ive been learning these past couple weeks

[in-newjersey]

I know this is so inconsequential in the scheme of things but hey that's why I'm putting it on the one-fandom sideblog but I'll be honest, I'm rather disappointed about this

[youarentamaybeyoureayes]

still not over rina so i dug in my camera roll to find some of my s4 predictions from a year ago because i have nowhere else to post these lol (warning, most of these are pessimistic as hell because i had very little trust in tim and s4 kept me up at night until the very moment i pressed play)

[draconicace]

so many people try to start shit with me because they don't like that i wear a mask. like no sir i'm not doing to die of 'carbon dioxide poisoning' (???????) from a piece of cloth over my face