#how they kept looking to each other since the first day!

[cj-the-random-artist]

Hey y'all I'm trying to cure my perfectionism and refresh my brain to make stuff generally so have some mid quality Leshycat doodles because I was thinking about them this week I also have some bonus thoughts about these two but I'm gonna put it under the cut so that this post doesn't become too long:

I don't remember what I talked about in my last Leshycat post, but I've had some more thoughts about them that I want to throw out there. First and foremost, Annamer is technically in charge of both the farm and the medicinal garden (which are technically two different things in my AU, since Kallamar is very particular about that stuff), and though they are mostly just... in charge of keeping the farmers / gardeners on task, they also just really like being in the dirt and actually doing stuff so they do a lot of personally working in the farms. If we're getting technical, Leshy is arguably a better gardener, given he has a few thousand years more of experience, but he eventually took a bartending job over the farming job because he wanted something fresh to do. Also he and Annamer had to be separated after they first entered their romantic relationship cuz they kept sneaking off during the workday to... snuggle. Let's go with that. I also feel strongly that they can both pick each other up, just because I think it's funny.

I do think previously I mentioned both Leshy and Annamer being grey / demi aroaces, thus Leshy is completely blindsided by his crush on Annamer since it's been so long since he's had one, which is the vibe I wanted to give off with the teensy little mini comic there. Idk how well it comes across but that's what I was going for lol

Tbh most of what I ended up doing with these was trying to solidify Annamer's design, I've been thinking for a while that the jester costume just... doesn't really vibe with the way I imagine them in the AU? So I wanted to give him some warm weather farming clothes.

Also tangentially related I wanted to change up the way I've been doing lineart lately, I feel like it was... better a year ago, and I wanted to try going back to that thicker / chunkier and more varied lineart I was doing previously, and honestly I'm here for it, I think it looks more interesting than what I've been doing lately, and it just feels more fun to draw, too.

Anyways. Enjoy my rambles and these ridiculous silly strange doodles and have a good day <3

[wosospacegirl]

Little less hidden - Kika Nazareth

Summary: Little moments, quiet glances, and blurry Instagram stories—snippets of how Y/N and Kika slowly, accidentally, and tenderly became public.

Word count: 1.3k

This is part of my 1k comemoration blurb! <3

Masterlist

..

- The Media's Reaction:

To the media, nothing about Y/n and Kika's relationship stood out. The press loved to talk about how close the two were, but it was always framed in a strictly professional context. 

Y/n was just so serious. 

Whenever her relationship with Kika came up, she'd don her usual professional mask, her expression stiff, her tone even more so. 

“The team is doing everything it can to support Kika during this time,” she would say, her face a perfect picture of composure.

No one suspected anything more was going on. 

To them, Y/n was the definition of professional. A player who didn’t smile for the cameras, who had no time for distractions. 

She’d support Kika like she supported her teammates: with commitment, discipline, and a focus on performance.

But what the media didn’t see? The way Y/n carefully wrapped ice around Kika’s leg after a tough physio session or how she always made sure Kika had someone to sit with during a game, since she wasn’t allow to play yet.

- The Fans' Reaction:

The fans, on the other hand, had a completely different story. 

They noticed everything. 

The tiniest shift in Y/n’s demeanor, a hint of a smile when Kika came near, a moment of laughter they hadn’t heard before. 

And they were quick to catch on.

Y/n, who never showed emotion, was suddenly showing a softer side around Kika. Fans knew there had to be something more going on.

It all started when Y/n would show up to training a little earlier than usual. 

Not for the drills, but for the hope that she would  catch Kika trying to sneak a breakfast that was nothing short of chaotic. She knew it was bad for Kika, but it was endearing all the same. 

And then there were the gym sessions–where Y/n would complain endlessly about the songs Kika loved, pretending she hated them, but carefully logging every song title on her Spotify.

Then came the pitch.

When Kika wasn’t playing due to her injury, Y/n gave her all—not just for the win, but to somehow carry Kika’s presence on the field, feeling like she was playing for her.

The first moment it became undeniable? 

When Y/n hugged Kika after winning the Champions League semi-final. Kika, tears in her eyes, her face buried in Y/n's shoulder, her smile pure and radiant. 

And Y/n? She couldn’t help but smile too. 

It was all over Twitter. 

Fans flooded the comments with “What’s going on?” “Are they together?” and “Look at the way they look at each other!”

- The Quiet Realization:

After that moment, things only seemed to get more complicated for Y/n. 

She couldn’t deny it anymore. She could feel it–the shift in their relationship. 

What had started as support for a teammate, a friend, was turning into something more, something deeper. 

She didn't know exactly when it happened, but she was starting to fall for Kika.

Y/n’s default instinct was to compartmentalize, to suppress her feelings, but with every glance shared with Kika, it became harder. 

She kept it under wraps, of course–until one day, she couldn’t.

- Kika’s Bold Move:

Kika, on the other hand, wasn’t as cautious. 

She wanted to share their love with the world, to let it be known. But she understood Y/n’s hesitation. 

So, she respected the boundaries. No holding hands in public. No public displays of affection. Their relationship was strictly professional in the eyes of the world.

Still, Kika couldn’t help but want to share a cheeky post–a playful picture of the two of them. 

But Y/n wasn’t having it. She wasn’t ready to go public, not yet. “It’s too soon,” she said. “We’re not there yet.”

And so, Kika kept quiet. 

But their quiet little moments were telling in their own way. Kika would sneak her hand into the frame of a picture Y/n was taking, and Y/n would subtly hide Kika’s presence in her own minimalist shots.

- The Breakthrough:

Until one day, everything changed. 

Kika and Y/n were lying together in the hotel room, tired but content. They had just come back from a grueling match. 

Kika had her phone in hand, Y/n next to her. They took a mirror selfie, faces barely visible–Y/n’s face hidden behind the phone and Kika’s barely visible in the reflection. It wasn’t much, just a quiet moment captured.

Y/n didn’t think twice. She posted it on her Instagram stories. No words. No emojis. No hearts. Just the photo.

It was a subtle admission. The fans went wild. 

They knew what it meant, even if the rest of the world didn’t. It was a quiet declaration of their relationship, but it was a declaration nonetheless.

- What Comes Next

The media may not have known the full truth, but the fans? 

They had seen enough to know that something was up.

And though Kika and Y/n hadn’t officially told the world, they knew they were in it together. And in time, the rest of the world would catch up.

- Reactions 

The morning after Y/n’s post, she woke up to chaos.

Her phone buzzed nonstop. Mentions, tags, screenshots, blurry zoom-ins, fan theories. The story had already expired from her Instagram, but that didn’t stop fans from dissecting every pixel. 

They would zoomed in to confirm the mole on Y/n’s wrist, matched the bedsheets to a photo Kika had once posted, and compiled it into a 3-minute TikTok essay titled “Y/n and Kika: Soft Launch Confirmed.”

Kika’s response? A smug little grin across the breakfast table as she scrolled through the discourse, occasionally reading fan tweets aloud just to watch Y/n roll her eyes.

“‘They are the softest soft launch in Woso history,’” Kika quoted, eyes dancing. “Oh wait, here’s another: ‘This is how I want to be loved–quietly, gently, in the corner of an Instagram story.’” She giggled. “Poetic, no?”

Y/n groaned, hiding her face in her hoodie. “I didn’t even tag you.”

“Didn’t need to. You posted us. That’s louder than any tag.”

The team noticed the shift too, of course.

 For the first time, their teasing turned to quiet respect. Alexia, ever the observant captain, gave Y/n a look across the locker room–half proud, half knowing.

“You good?” she asked quietly one day.

Y/n didn’t say anything at first, just nodded. But her shoulders were more relaxed. Her face a little less guarded. 

She was starting to let herself have this.

Kika, for all her patience, was now daring a little more. 

Her hand would linger on Y/n’s back as they walked through the tunnel. 

They would sit closer during team meetings. There were still no overt declarations, no big PDA, but the change was there, undeniable and steady.

Fans continued to speculate, but the tone had changed. They weren’t just shipping anymore, they were rooting for them. 

And eventually, when the next season rolled in and Barça’s official photographer posted a candid of Y/n with her hand in Kika’s—unposed, natural, unmistakably theirs–it didn’t come as a surprise.

No captions were needed. No official statement. It was just them, as they always had been, now just a little less hidden.

They didn’t rush anything. Slowly and naturally, they let the world see more.

A blurry selfie in Kika’s story, with a barely visible smile pressed against her cheek.

Y/n in the background of a TikTok, wearing Kika’s hoodie.

A post-match hug that lingered a second longer than usual, and this time, Y/n didn’t look around first to check who was watching.

By the time they soft-launched again—this time with a post from Kika, a photo of them holding hands around Barcelona, it didn’t feel like news. It just felt like the world catching up to something that had been quietly blooming all along.

Y/n still wasn’t one for grand gestures, but she didn't flinch when fans recognized them at cafés, or when someone asked for a picture and Kika took her hand before posing.

She had Kika. And that, quietly, loudly, publicly or privately, was more than enough.

..

a/n: Hope you guys liked it <3

[itzpookiepooh]

Insomnia

You tossed and turned with your eyes closed, threw the blanket off, put it on, stuck one leg out yet you were still awake. You fluffed the pillows and still nothing. You were on the verge of tears because everything was overwhelming. You shot up throwing the blanket off to get some fresh air. You left Sylus to sleep soundly as you left the room.

You roamed the base mindlessly until you ended up outside. You took a few deep breaths before you spazzed out. You could always buy new pillows and maybe that would help. Maybe a walk would also help, a warm glass of milk? Rain sounds even. You just wanted to sleep you closed your eyes around 3 and woke up at 4, your body felt…frustrated.

A cloud of red and black essence appears in front of you. Sylus tilts his head at you clearly tired and concerned. You look up at him with exhaustion, you feel like you could rip your hair out. He pulls you into him and rubs your back slowly. He knew how hard it was to go to sleep most days especially if you both were apart.

“Come on, I’ll help you sleep.” He whispers to you as you both make your way back inside. He put in a record, no singing just low music. In bed you were still wide awake as he pulled you into him.

His fingers lightly traced patterns into your spine. At first it gave you goosebumps but after a while you felt your eyelids get heavy. Listening to the music mixed with Sylus’ heartbeat did the trick. He kissed you goodnight before falling asleep himself.

You were practically a fish out of water the way you were tossing and turning. You threw the blankets off angrily before storming out of the room still quiet enough not to wake Rafayel. You stood in the shower letting the hot water try and lull you to sleep, nothing. You tried making yourself tired with boring audiobooks, nothing. A list of trial and error, all for you still to be wide awake at 4am. You barely got a wink of sleep.

You took chance to try sitting on the beach, staring off into the sea. You wondered if you got in would it help you. Being swayed by the oceans current like a baby in a cradle. Too bad you were too scared of being in the ocean at night. The thought was still on the table though—at the very end.

You hear footsteps coming towards you. A disheveled Rafayel stood before you. His hair was a mess and he looked panicked and tired at the same time. He thought something happened to you until he had to remind himself of your insomnia. You looked at him sadly, you could feel your eye bags getting worse.

“You could’ve woke me up.” He informs you, sitting next to you. You shrug your shoulders putting your chin on your knee.

“You were sleeping so soundly.” You tell him with a small smile. He puts his head on your shoulder watching the ocean with you.

“You’re important to me and knowing you’re struggling makes me feel like I’m struggling.” He explains to you making you put your head on his.

Rafayel leads you to a hot bath mixed with lavender and melatonin oil. You and him soak in the bath in silence basking in each others presence. Sleep slowly poked at you, wanting to consume you. Rafayel leads you back to bed, morphing himself into you. Before you know it you both are fast asleep as the ocean waves sway in the background.

Zayne slept at a fairly reasonable hour since he was a doctor. Most times your insomnia kept you awake until he went to work and whatever amount of sleep you may have gotten was the sleep you’d deal with for the day. It was exhausting and repetitive, you couldn’t end the cycle. Tonight was no different as you wandered around the house looking for sleep aid.

You use to try sleep medication that was over the counter, eventually you’d have to wait a few days in between before taking them again. Your body would get use to it too quickly. You felt like you had tried everything even listening to any sounds on YouTube to aid sleep. You were desperate to find something, anything to calm your mind.

You were on the couch staring at the ceiling when you could hear Zayne’s padded footsteps. He rubbed his eyes when he finally found you. He knew you struggled to sleep and tried his best to help you. He knew for sure that you would need to have a sleep study done in order to find the issue. That wasn’t happening now though so he needed a solution.

“Come with me. I have something that will help.” His soft voice luring you into the kitchen where he makes you a cup of sleepy time tea. It relaxes your body of course but you needed a bigger push.

Zayne brought you back into the bedroom before he began prepping the room. He sprayed something lavender scented onto the pillows and blankets. He fluffed the pillows and motioned you over. You both got comfortable in each other’s arms, ready for bed. Zayne tells you a sleep inducing story making your eyes grow heavier. When you’re breathing evens out he smiles giving you a good night kiss. He follows right after you and goes to sleep.

Xavier was the sleepiest person you’ve ever met. You were jealous that he could sleep absolutely anywhere. You were staring blankly at the tv, flipping through channels waiting to pass out when you heard him enter the living room. His eyes were droopy and filled with exhaustion. You waved at him and he returns the gesture before standing in front of you.

Xavier may be able to sleep anywhere but not without you. You knew that but you didn’t want to wake him after the day he had. You were yawning but you weren’t tired and you refused to wake him up to help you. You felt it was rude to do so. Xavier on the other hand has told you many times to do so because he doesn’t want you to suffer.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks holding his hand out to yours which you gladly take.

“Nah. You?” He chuckled at the fact you were worried about him at all.

“Not without you.” He tells you. He gets you to sit with him under the stars. He asks you to count them and you slowly begin to get sleepier.

He tells you stories of the planets and stars before you fall asleep on his shoulder. The stories were too good to not listen to and you would ask him about them tomorrow. He chuckles rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. He carries you back to bed and crawls in beside you. He holds you tight as sleep takes over his body and he falls back to sleep.

Not sleeping was driving you up a wall! You tried fake scenarios, counting sheep, focusing on the silence around you but nothing worked! You almost wanted to chop Caleb in his throat for sleeping so well. It wasn’t his fault though, you just couldn’t sleep and felt like you could run a marathon. You left the room and Caleb rose like a bloodhound.

He immediately went to search for you in his groggy state. He found you about to go for a walk to which he stopped you. He felt it was too dangerous to be out there on your own. He knew if you were tired enough you’d sleep anywhere so he came up with a better solution. He sang you a lullaby, specifically the one he made up when you would be scared of the dark when you guys were kids. You felt your eyes get heavy as he rocks you back and forth on the bed.

You blink slowly at him as he smiles down at you. By the time the lullaby is over you’re fast asleep. He rocks you for a few more minutes before he gets you both comfortable to sleep. He smiles at you once more before kissing your nose.

“Mission accomplished.” He whispered before going back to sleep.

I am jealous of those of you that can just go to sleep I wish to not be at war with the sandman.

[classjezter]

I CAN JUST IMAGINE HOW THE BOTS ARE FEELING RN 😭

Not well! they're trying their best though

I wrote a bit for this scene, you can read it down here🔽

It had been a few days since they lost him.

Her room was now a wreck. Jagged holes peppered the walls, one of the chairs had been kicked clear across the room, and a table lay overturned, half-broken. Elita sat hunched over on the edge of her berth, arms resting on her knees, head bowed low. Her frame was tight, tense, like if she moved wrong she might snap in half.

The door swished open.

B-127 hesitated in the doorway, peeking inside with wide optics. He shifted awkwardly, glancing at the battered walls before his gaze landed on Elita. She hadn’t moved. She just sat there, so still it was almost frightening.

"...Hey," he said, voice small in the tense silence.

Elita didn't look up. She just gave a low grunt of acknowledgment, still seething silently. The tension in the room was thick, heavy, he could feel it like a physical weight on him.

Bee hovered awkwardly by the door for a moment before finally walking over and sitting in the berth a little ways from her.

He hated seeing her like this, it was wrong. Elita was supposed to be strong. Unshakable. Seeing her this broken felt worse than anything. This was one of the few times he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to make her feel better.

Finally, her voice broke the silence, rough and low. "I let him down”

Bee blinked. "Elita-“

"I let him down” she said again, louder this time. She finally looked up at him, and the sheer pain in her optics made him flinch. "He trusted me. All of us. And I couldn’t even keep him safe when it mattered”

He thought back to the security footage Prowl had shown them. He thought of a tiny sparkling, awkwardly climbing out of his crib, determined to follow after Elita and B-127 when they’d left to defend their base from the Decepticons. He remembered how nobody had even realized Optimus wasn’t asleep anymore, how they’d been too caught up in all the chaos. Their leader turned-sparkling always did this, wandered off when he shouldn’t, curious and full of energy. They knew he did this, they should have been more careful, they should have-

"I should've been paying attention” Elita muttered, unknowingly voicing B-127 thoughts, her voice low and rough. "I should’ve noticed he was following us... I should’ve noticed something”

B-127’s mouth opened to argue, but the words caught in his throat. How could he tell her it wasn’t her fault when he was carrying that same guilt? When he kept replaying that moment in his processor, running through the halls, hearing the faint sound of Skywarp’s teleporting signature “vop”, and knowing -knowing- he was too late?

He should say something now, he’s being too quiet.

"All I can think about is the last time I saw him. He was trying to follow me. Trying to keep up. And I didn’t even notice. I didn’t even look back” She leaned forward, burying her face in her hands. "Primus... I left him behind” 

B-127 scooted closer to her, they were almost touching now “You didn’t leave him," he said after a moment. "None of us did. He just... he got caught in the crossfire. It- it wasn’t supposed to happen. None of this was…”

Elita laughed bitterly into her hands “‘Supposed to happen’ doesn’t mean anything now”

Bee stared at the floor. "Yeah” another beat of silence.

He couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

He looked away from her, guilt twisting in his spark. "I... I’m sorry”

Elita frowned, confused. "What?"

"I’m sorry!” Bee blurted again, louder this time. Turning to look at her, his words stumbled over each other in a rush. "When we realized he was missing, you trusted me to find him, to get him back and keep him safe. I was supposed to find him. I was supposed to get to him first. But I- I didn’t. I wasn’t fast enough. I tried, I swear I did, but Skywarp- he was faster. And I couldn’t get to him in time!"

He squeezed his optics shut, fists clenching in his lap. "I should’ve been faster. I should’ve protected him. It’s my fault too”

Elita sat in stunned silence for a few moments, processing Bee’s rushed confession, the guilt thick in his voice. She had been so buried in her own anger and grief, she hadn’t even thought about how hard this was for the others, how hard it was for him. But hearing Bee’s voice crack like that, hearing the guilt he carried just as heavy as hers, she felt something break inside her.

Her optics softened, and she shifted, scooting a little closer to where he was sitting stiffly beside her so that their sides were touching.

“B…” she said quietly, almost a whisper. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

B-127 blinked, startled by the rawness in her voice. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, he was never good at hiding things. Never good at keeping quiet long enough to keep a secret. That had always been something about him. If something bothered him, everyone knew within five minutes.

But this? This he found hard to talk about.

He shrugged, staring down at his servos. "I... didn’t wanna make it worse," he mumbled. "Everyone already felt bad. You, Wheeljack, Ratchet, all of 'em. I figured if I started dumping my mess on you too... it’d just- y��know. Hurt more."

Elita’s spark ached. He had been hurting this whole time, trying to carry it by himself so that none of them would hurt more. Trying to protect them from his own guilt, when he was just a kid himself.

Without thinking, she reached out and pulled him into a rough, awkward hug, one arm slinging around his shoulders and dragging him close. He stiffened at first, then sagged against her like a tight cord finally snapping.

Words were never really her thing, that was always Optimus' job. Somehow, he could just... pull the right things out of the air, say them so confidently and perfect it made you believe him. Elita? She was better at actions than words.

But Bee needed something right now, and unfortunately, no amount of punching was going to fix this.

"Listen to me Bee, and pay attention because this is important” she paused for a second, waiting for his tiny nod to continue “You aren’t supposed to keep that slag bottled up. You're not a one-bot army” she muttered into his helm. "You don’t have to protect us from that, You don’t have to protect me”

Bee made a small, almost choked noise, but didn’t pull away. His servos clutched at the back of her frame like he was scared to let go.

"You’re not supposed to carry it all by yourself” she said, a little sharper now, voice rough. "You screwed up, fine. So did I. So has every bot in this rusted war. It doesn’t mean you gotta sit there and eat yourself alive over it”

She leaned back a bit and grabbed B-127’s helm so she could look him properly in the optics "You’re not- never were on your own, Bee. You hear me? You’re ours. Mine. And that means you don’t have to shoulder this like it’s your fault, because it isn’t kid”

Bee just blinked up at her, optics huge.

A second passed, and then without warning, B-127 threw himself at her, tackle-hugging her so hard they both nearly toppled sideways where they sat.

"Whoa- hey!" Elita barked, catching him on instinct, arms locking around him tight. Properly hugging him back once the surprise had passed and she could stabilize them.

They stayed like that for a moment, Bee just clinging to her like he did whenever he was feeling too much, like whoever he was hugging would just disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough. 

"You know," he murmured against her chasis, voice full of mischievous affection, "Optimus is better at speeches”

Elita threw a flat look at the top of his helm. “Yeah, well, Optimus isn’t here right now, so you’re stuck with me, brat” Bee just laughed and leaned more into her.

They sat there holding onto each other for a little while longer, finally getting the comfort they both so desperately needed, the room quiet except for the low hum of the base around them. Elita was about to suggest they finally get up, maybe punch another wall or two just for good measure, when Bee spoke up again, voice softer.

"Hey Elita?" he mumbled into her armor "you're being kinda stupid too”

Elita froze “…Come again?"

Bee pulled back in a panic, just enough to look up at her and wave his arms in denial “No! Not like- I don’t mean you’re stupid! I meant that, well, it’s stupid that you keep blaming yourself. For what happened. For losing Optimus”

Elita opened her mouth, ready to bark something back, but B just kept going.

"It wasn’t just you," he said more firmly, voice now filling with confidence “It was all of us. I didn’t look back and see him follow, I wasn’t fast enough to get him. Ratchet and Wheeljack didn’t notice him wandering off. The others weren’t there to catch him either. We all messed up. You’re not the only one who lost him” 

Elita stiffened, jaw tight, but Bee wasn’t backing down. He even poked her chassis with a finger.

“We all lost him, Elita. If I’m not alone in this, you’re not either. Just because you’re in charge doesn’t mean you gotta carry all the burden by yourself”

He crossed his arms after that, glaring up at her like he dared her to argue.

Elita stared at him, stunned. For a second, she seriously considered shoving him over just to shut him up, but then the weight of what he said really hit her.

Slag. He was right.

She let out a rough sigh and dropped her helm forward, resting it lightly against his. "You're lucky you're right” she muttered, voice low “and cute, you little punk” she added in a more lighthearted tone.

B-127’s smile finally returned, grin wide and bright, the way it was supposed to be. “It’s part of my natural charm”

Elita snorted, grabbed him by the helm, and ruffled it roughly until he yelped and squirmed.  

After a few seconds of torture, he finally got himself free and turned to fully face her "So, what do we do now?" 

Elita leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. Her gaze was sharp, but there was a kind of calm to it now, a certainty that hadn’t been there earlier.

"Now” she said, voice low but steady, "we get Optimus back”

B-127 looked at her, searching, like he needed to be sure she meant it.

She met his optics without flinching. "We're not leaving him. No matter how long it takes, no matter what we have to do. He's ours”

B let out a shaky little laugh, almost disbelieving. "You really think we can?"

Elita let the smallest, rough-edged smile pull at her mouth. "I don't think, Bee. I know”

She reached out, ruffling his helm with a heavy, affectionate shove. "We’re bringing him home. And if Megatron tries to stand in my way-“ she shrugged, casual, almost lazy in the way she said it, "-I'm putting him six feet under myself”

Bee snorted, the sound small but real, the first genuine one in days. He leaned against her side a little, bumping shoulders.

Elita shifted, reaching out and putting her arm across his shoulders. They didn’t have a plan yet. They didn’t have all the answers. But they had each other, and they had the unwavering love they felt for the little sparkling they’d lost, a love that would drive them forward, no matter the odds.

Finally, with an air of confidence, Elita pushed herself up, offering a servo to B-127.

"Come on. Let’s tell the others. It’s time we start putting together a plan”

Bee grabbed her servo, pulling himself up with a determined nod. 

This wasn’t over. They would tear the sky apart if they had to, but they were going to bring Optimus home.

[possesseddesiress]

The Midnight Ritual (Part One)

CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes.

If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.

The Midnight Ritual, part one (English Version)

Don't ask me how this all started, because even I don't know.

Jacob and I were friends since high school, approximately. He was almost my best friend, we used to do everything together, and we were very trusting of each other, something that causes me even more guilt about everything that ended up happening...

I had bought a magical contraption from an esoteric store, I didn't think it would work but as the days went by, the more curious I became to try it out.

And I thought Jacob was the best way to corroborate such a thing.

Jacob's body was big, strong, charismatic and nice. He used to go to the gym a lot, was popular in high school and very friendly.

I wasn't as popular, but I wasn't invisible either. I was well known although my physique was not very above average, somewhat average. Sometimes I went out with other guys but almost never got serious, I guess my insecurity influenced a lot when it came to dating.

That magic object was supposed to give me the trust of another person, as long as he agreed.

I talked to him, nervous that he would tell me I was ridiculous or foolish. But on the contrary, he gladly agreed. 《Whatever you need, buddy》 - and we began the ritual.

Apparently nothing happened, until the first full moon came after that.

I was sleeping when I felt a strange force pull me from my body, until I was thrown into what felt like nothingness, I panicked until I breathed again, opened my eyes in fear.

I sat up in bed, breathing heavily, and I sat there for a while, trying to calm down until I felt heavier. More... Thicker?

I looked down, finding huge pecs. Thick and juicy, it was hard for me not to gasp, instead I just kept groping myself like crazy. I squeezed my new muscles, flexed my arms not believing how big they were.

Everything was so new, so strange... I didn't even notice what room I was in. I lifted my shirt, revealing a formidable six-pack, flexed my biceps again, feeling the strength and power they seemed to emanate, and without being able to control it, the relief on my pants began to rise.

Eagerly I pulled my clothes down, wrapping my hand around my new shaft. I stroked it slowly, at first, but the more I began to move it, the more anxious I began to become. My toes tensed as I gasped loudly, I was sloppy with the movements, erratic. Just stamping my hand up and down.

I was absorbed in my thoughts, blinded by pleasure, clumsy and foolish, with a fuzzy smile. Then I looked ahead, noticing the pattern of the room? Why did it look familiar? I let out a confused grunt but kept moving my hand. It wasn't until I saw the ceiling that I realized where I was, though it was too late.

I let out a choked gasp, feeling my nectar dripping down the sheets with force, some of it even ending up on my face. I took a bit to put it in my mouth, smiling at the taste.

When the euphoria subsided, I realized what was happening. I noticed more of my body, observing the reliefs until I noticed a bracelet on my right arm. It was identical to one I had given Jacob some time ago, and he never took it off.

Shit, shit, shit.

I stood up suddenly, turned on the light to reveal my friend's room, then stood in front of the mirror, noticing that I was now inside his body. I flexed my arms in confusion, it was all so... strange, but it still felt good. I felt powerful, strong; I flexed my arms more, enjoying the sensation of my muscles widening, I even noticed a slight scent of sweat, so I raised my arm a little more to free my access to the armpit, and inhaled with pleasure.

- Mfhh... Jeez dude, you smell good - I let out a slight chuckle, sniffing again with need.

I think that's where it all went down. Since that was seven months ago, I discovered that Jacob wasn't aware of that whole effect, he was falling asleep somewhere in his unconscious, though everything he did in his body, seemed to have repercussions for his psyche. Staying recorded as a common and ordinary habit, it was strange and a little unhinged (because I could do nothing but watch), to see him sniffing and flexing his arms like the most common thing in the world.

And what about my body? It seemed to go into an automatic mode, my "mind" was not aware that I was inside Jacob, so it treated me like him. I wasn't even aware of the magic object, it was as if only I knew that after such a ritual, I could stay in my best friend's body for a few hours, initially, I could only access it during full moons. But all of a sudden, I started to be able to do it every weekend.

It wasn't even because I wanted it or asked for it (though I certainly wasn't complaining), but I would end up in Jacob's body once one or the other fell asleep.

It was uncomfortable, as I had no control over it. One day during class, I was in chemistry class when I felt that invisible force pull me out of my body to throw me into Jacob who just fell asleep in history class.

I always tried to respect Jacob's body, to leave no trace of my presence. No mark that could affect him, living as close as I could to his initial style. But it was hard to keep my composure in such a... tempting body.

For the first few months I managed it well, but as the months progressed, the mission fell apart. The clothes my friend used to wear to work out were quite modest, loose and baggy, although one day I just couldn't take it anymore.

I put on short shorts, which showed off my new legs and my new bulge, I liked the feel of the fabric, even how others seemed to look at me. Even that day I became more exaggerated with my movements, as if I wanted to highlight more my butt in each squat, or my biceps when lifting each weight. Gosh, my chest from just walking.

And there was another change for Jacob, his closet changed drastically, now he only wore fitted clothes, tight fitting compression shirts and tiny lycra shorts that highlighted his bulge and his fat buttocks.

I was almost ogling him every day, what was I doing?!

It was as if I was transforming my friend to my most primitive desires, I was afraid to erase all traces of him. But at the same time... How could I control myself? It was automatic, I couldn't do anything; in his body things felt different, they smelled different, they even treated me differently, and that was the other point that fucked the whole thing up even more.

I had ended up at a party that Jacob was invited to, he had taken a nap and in less than five minutes I was in the driver's seat.

I dressed up to attend, wearing nothing but a blue tank top, if Jacob was already an exhibitionist, it wouldn't affect much, would it?

From the first moment I walked into the party, the vibe felt... different.

How people greeted me, the discreet touches and squeezes as I moved through the crowd. I didn't even know where to go, I was so lost that when I least expected it, I was in the middle of the room with a bottle steeped in my mouth.

- Drink, drink, drink! - what seemed to be at least 60 people were shouting in unison with excitement, apparently Jacob's body had a good stamina or a deep throat because he seemed to finish at least half of the bottle in mere seconds.

Although I started to feel dizzy - and to make matters worse, more uninhibited - I moved with some difficulty around the house until I ended up in a somewhat far corner, having a drink.

- Hey, hi.

A guy came up to me, smiling and winking. Holy shit.

I had always been gay, I knew that and everyone who knew me, I know Jacob was straight, so I tried not to do anything gay on his body, mainly so I wouldn't change that trait about him.

- Hey, how are you?

I felt a strange tingle of security, I stood in front of him, casually flexed my arm, which seemed to charm him. I didn't know if I was slurring my words but the feeling was... Strange, I don't know how to describe it exactly but it felt different than all those times I tried to flirt with someone else. It felt... Good.

In less time than I expected, we ended up kissing intensely in one of the rooms of the party, with him anxiously trying to unhook my shirt, I knew it was all wrong. I had kissed a man on Jacob's body, I was about to have something that would only close this thing I had done by accident, but the more I tried to think, the more softly that boy kissed me on my neck.

- Easy, big guy... - he murmured feeling my muscles, enjoying the volume - let me take care of it.

And then Jacob started having homosexual tendencies.

- I just don't get it, man. I mean, I don't have anything against gays, it's just... Well, it's not something that's ever happened to me, you know? I experimented before, I tried things before but I didn't feel anything, now it's like out of nowhere... I feel that urge.

- Maybe it's because you're older now and you're still discovering yourself, don't you think? - I lied shamelessly.

- Yeah, yeah... I think so, man.

Jacob became quite the casanova with the guys, I didn't know if it was because of my acting at that party or if it was just my orientation mixed with his natural charisma, but there he was... Having as many guys at his feet as he wanted, it seemed there wasn't a trace left of his former interest in women.

And that made me jealous, while, I loved the attention I was getting from the guys and the great fact that I no longer had to modulate for that part being Jacob, at the same time... It was impossible for him to notice me on his own. He only saw me as his friend, almost a brother, he couldn't even see me with those eyes if he wanted to.

At that point I guess I lost all my reasoning... But wouldn't you have done the same?

To be continued.

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I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, don't forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it.

I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages. See you in the next story... Who knows what body you will occupy this time?

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[blade-dressed-in-red]

» [FUCK, I’M LONELY] «

0:00 〇────── 1:22

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paring: noah sebastian x f!reader

content warnings: MDNI, oral sex (male receiving), protected sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool). if you believe i missed anything please let me know! i never want to make anyone uncomfortable :)

word count: 6.1k

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. While inspired by real individuals, the characters and events depicted are entirely fictional and should not be considered as factual representations of any real persons. This story is solely for entertainment purposes only and is not intended to be taken as truth or to cause any harm or offense.

A/N: fluffier chapter, hope you enjoy :) also this is my first time writing actual smut so apologize in advance if it sucks lmao

taglist

Reader’s POV

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| But I still think about you all the time

When Tessa and I returned to my apartment the night of Ian’s party, I relayed the time I spent with Noah to her, including the dance floor incident which resulted in her almost yelling “You did what?” in response. Noah and I had kept in contact since that night a couple weeks ago, but both of us had been too busy to actually meet up until today. We actually texted quite frequently, him giving me his number the morning after Ian’s party. We had finally found a good day and time to see each other again, our schedules starting to clear up a bit. I made my way into my apartment after a meeting with a newly recruited band at the record label. I debated on grabbing a snack, but didn’t want to ruin my appetite for the “date” with Noah later. We thought about going back to Ernie’s, but we decided on grabbing some food and coffee, neither of us really being in the mood for getting drinks. I mentioned to him there was a cute cafe down the road from my apartment, so we settled on meeting there at three o’clock. 

I started getting ready for the outing, stepping into the shower to wash the work day off of me. Deciding on an “everything shower” to look and feel my best. I washed my hair with a shampoo that I was less than comfortable admitting the price of, only using it for special occasions (this counts, right?). After applying a hair mask and throwing my hair in a claw clip and exfoliating my whole body, I shaved my legs, underarms, and bikini line. After rinsing out the hair mask, I finished off by cleansing my whole body with some vanilla scented body wash, which lingered on my skin as I stepped out of the shower. I started my elaborate after-shower routine, applying vanilla body lotion to my whole body, focusing on the areas that tended to get a little drier than the rest. I did my skincare, making sure to fully moisturize my face so my makeup could apply as best as it could. Finishing off by rolling on some deodorant and spritzing the same vanilla perfume as that night onto my pulse points. 

As I made my way out of the bathroom to my vanity to start doing my makeup, I glanced at my phone to check the time, 2:13pm. I also noticed Noah has texted me..

“I’m about to head out, can’t wait to see you :)”

The message caused nervous butterflies to flutter in my stomach. I’ve gone on numerous dates with other attractive men, I even enjoyed their company, but something about each one of them made me question the possibility of a second date, whether it be how they didn’t understand my jokes or the way they would stare at me as if I was a piece of meat and they were a starved wolf. The memories made me cringe as I sat down to get started on my makeup. There was something about Noah that made me feel completely different to his company than anyone I had ever met. Ever since Ian’s party, I craved to be back in his embrace. I spent the rest of my time getting ready with an excited nervousness slowly building up in my body. Once finishing my makeup, I checked the time again, 2:39pm. Shit, I need to leave soon. It takes about fifteen minutes to walk over there, and driving there would be almost pointless for the distance. I quickly got dressed. My outfit consisting of a cropped black tank top, black jeans that had rips in the knees, a black and white flannel, and my Docs. I put in some small hoop earrings and adorned my neck with the same chunky silver chain from that night. I grabbed my bag, headed out the door, locking it behind me and made my down my apartment’s stairwell onto the sidewalk. 

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| I don’t know how I’m gonna make it out

The bell over my head rang as I entered the cafe. I immediately noticed Noah sitting at a table with two chairs as he was scrolling on his phone. I checked the time on my phone to see if I was late, it read 2:57pm. Not only was I on time, Noah was early, seeing as he already had a drink of sorts for himself. He was wearing black joggers and a black hoodie with various red and orange designs on it, realizing it was one of his band’s merch pieces as I approached, I noticed I could still only see the same tattoos as last time. As I reached the table to meet him, his eyes immediately averted from his phone onto me, making the butterflies in my stomach start swarming around even quicker.

“Hey! Long time no see, huh?” I half-jokingly greeted while setting my bag on the back of the chair while Noah stood up to give me a small hug. God, I didn’t even realize how much I missed his scent until now. 

“Yeah, it’s been a minute. I’m sorry about that, the band and I have just been so busy these past couple weeks.” He promptly responded before continuing,

“But how have you been?”

“I’ve been pretty good, it hasn’t only been you that’s been busy.” I said with a light laugh,

“Ephemera just signed a new band, so I've been spending a lot of time in meetings and helping organize their recruitment to make it as seamless as possible.” He nodded while giving a small smile in response. Fuck, he’s so pretty. His eyes quickly lit up in realization,

“Did you wanna go order something?” he asked while shifting in his seat to lean his elbows on the table.

“I mean, that’s why we’re here isn’t it?” I quipped while grabbing my purse to head over to the register, him following behind me. I didn’t question it, assuming he was going to order some food for himself since he already had a drink. 

When it was my turn to order, the cashier greeting me as I approached, Noah following behind me.

“Hi, I’ll have a medium dirty chai latte please. Could I get that with vanilla syrup as well?” The cashier confirmed my choice before I continued ordering,

“I’ll also have a caprese panini please.” The cashier typed my order into the register, Noah joined in on ordering which confused me, and also slightly annoyed me. I had no problem paying for him since he covered my bar tab, but he could’ve at least asked first. 

“I’ll just have a garden salad please.” 

The cashier relayed the order to us, confirming it. As I was about to pay with my card, Noah pushed my hand out of the way while handing over his card instead. I tried protesting since he already paid for my bar tab, but he insisted and I didn’t want to cause a scene in the cafe over a bill. I was quickly handed over my drink before Noah and I made our way back over to our table. We made small talk about what we’ve been up to, I told him a little bit about the band we had just signed, he talked about the production of some of the songs he’s been working on with the guys. Our food arrived soon after, us still making idle chatter while eating. Once we finished, he took our plates to the shelf above the trash for the workers to clean up later. When he came back, he began questioning me,

“So.. I heard you met Folio after we.. hung out at Ian’s party.” He smirked at me, with a glint of something in his eyes I couldn’t quite place. 

“Oh yeah, he’s super cool. When I introduced myself to him he kissed my hand as if I were a princess. Oh and when we were doing final shots with Ian he downed his whole glass of whiskey,” I recalled while letting out a small giggle at the memory. 

“Yep, that’s Folio for you,” he replied matter of factly while pressing his lips together. I decided to tempt fate to see how he’d react,

“Kind of unfortunate I met you first, I could’ve totally seen myself being on the dance floor with him that night.” I humorously stated, I knew I was lying. Sure, Folio was pretty attractive, super funny, and a sweetheart, but I knew the second Noah sat next to me that night, I was done for. Something within Noah’s eyes shifted at my remark, something darker, but he tried hiding it with a dry laugh. 

“Well I guess it’s fortunate for me I got to you first, huh?” he quipped, his eyes still hiding something behind them. This was exactly the sign I needed from him. I brushed off his reaction and decided to talk about the other guys I met that night. I found out Matt is obsessed with raccoons and one time Folio had to play a show with food poisoning while on a boat, I almost heaved at the thought. I also learned a bit more about their bassist, Nick. He was a tattoo artist and lived with the rest of the guys. The conversation between us flowed freely, as if we’d known each other for years. 

It was nearing five o’clock, the time the cafe was supposed to close. Noah and I didn’t even realize we were sitting in there for almost two hours until a worker flipped the open sign to close, which we took at our cue to leave the establishment. As we headed out, my heart sank at our time together coming to an end. Before I could wallow in it longer, Noah spoke,

“I have to meet the guys for something in a bit. Let me walk you to your car.” I could tell he wanted to stick around longer, but his work came first and I wasn’t going to be put in the way of that.

“Oh I actually walked here, my apartment is just around the corner.” He looked surprised for some reason, probably taken aback I chose to walk in a city that prioritized transportation via car. 

“Well in that case let me give you a ride home.” He had the same look in his eyes that he had when offering to order me a drink at the bar; hope. But I knew he had somewhere to be soon and didn’t want to impose.

“It’s no big deal really, it’s just around the corner.” I tried assuring him.

“Even more of a reason for me to drive you, come on let’s go.” He grabbed my hand to walk me to his car, the warmth enveloping my permanently cold hand. Once we got to his car, he walked me over to the passenger side and opened the door for me.

“Wow, what a gentleman.” I joked to him, Noah went along with the bit by bowing like a prince before shutting the car door, making me giggle more. Once he got into the driver's seat, I directed him to my apartment’s parking lot, telling him to turn at a corner store to get to my street. He pulled up to the curb, put his hazards on and quickly got out of the car and ran over to the passenger side, determined to open my door for me. As he opened it, he bowed once again while gesturing with his hand,

“M’lady,” resulting in me going into a fit of laughter. If there’s one thing Noah is, it’s preservant. He grabbed my hand as I stepped out and he closed the car door behind me. We stood in front of each other for a few beats in a comfortable silence, just staring into each other's eyes. Wow, his irises looked like tapioca pearls. He softly raised his hand up to the side of my face, grazing his thumb over my cheekbone. The butterflies immediately came back, fluttering faster than ever. I could tell what he was about to ask, but I felt his nerves course through his veins through his hand on my cheek. I decided to take the words out of his mouth,

“Can I kiss you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. His eyes widened at my proposal, eagerly nodding his head once the words sank in. I grabbed the front of his hoodie and pulled him down for our lips to meet, his other hand going up to hold my face. The kiss was soft and tender, nothing like the kisses he planted on my throat the night we met. He held me as if I was the most precious object he’s ever found and if he held me too tight, I’d break under his touch. The kiss slowly came to an end, our foreheads pressed together. Noah broke the comfortable silence first,

“I had a really nice time with you today,” he said while staring into my eyes.

“Me too, we should do it again sometime,” I responded while planting a kiss on his cheek. We stayed in each other's embrace for a few moments longer, neither of us wanting to pull away but we knew we had to. Finally, I got the courage to let him leave and join the guys for whatever they needed to do. I gave him one last peck to his lips, said my goodbyes, and made my way up the stairwell as Noah leaned against his car and watched me get inside safely.

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| Fuck, I’m lonely. Fuck, come hold me

It’s been a week since Noah and I went to the cafe. I didn’t want to be too overbearing, but the second I stepped foot back into my apartment it took everything inside of me to not ask him to come back whenever he was done with his obligation with the guys. I tried keeping myself busy with work to get my mind off of him, but anytime I received a text from him my heart soared in my chest. I couldn’t wait to see him again. 

He brought up the idea of getting dinner together, nothing too fancy. We settled on going to a small Italian restaurant about a twenty minute drive from my place. I debated on driving there myself, but the thought of possibly dealing with traffic on top of the anxiety of seeing Noah again didn’t sound too fun, so I ordered an uber. Since it wasn’t anything fancy, I wore casual clothes. I settled on a black knit sweater, loose-fitting blue jeans, and my Docs (of course). I got the notification that the uber would be arriving soon, so I quickly left my apartment. I made my way to the curb and waited for the uber, which didn’t take too long. After confirming with the driver, I got inside and let Noah know I was on my way. The ride was mostly silent, which I wasn’t sure if I was thankful for or not. The nervousness was slowly building up in my stomach, so I just scrolled on my phone as a distraction until I arrived at the restaurant. 

Noah let me know he had arrived about five minutes before I got there, keeping up with his punctual track record. I quickly found my way to the booth he was sitting at, water and bread already at the table. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt, black slacks, and his usual white slip on Vans. He stood up as I approached the table, engulfing me in a hug as he mumbled “I missed you” into my hair. I could feel my face heat up at the sudden display and words of affection, his face matching my own. We made ourselves comfortable in the booth, asking each other how our week has been since we last saw each other. I gave him updates on the band we had signed the week prior, the production side of things working on a new single. He told me a story of him and Jesse, one of his housemates, attempting to clean their pool which resulted in Noah falling in when he lost his footing on the edge. The idea made me tear up in laughter. Soon, we ordered our food, both of us deciding to stick to water for the night. I ordered chicken alfredo and Noah got toscana soup. We continued talking over dinner, making jokes to one another. At one point, I thought it’d be funny to play footsie with him under the table, at first he paused all movements but quickly leaned into the bit, gently kicking my leg in response as a blush creeped onto his face. Eventually, we finished our dinner, the waiter offering us dessert options we politely declined to. As the waiter came with our check, I quickly handed him my card so I could pay this time since Noah paid twice now, and I was determined to make it up to him. As the waiter walked away, Noah spoke, a surge of random confidence entering his voice,

“You know, I told you you could make it up to me in other ways.” Which I playfully rolled my eyes at, the waiter coming back with my copy of the receipt. Noah and I got up to leave, and as I was about to place the order for my uber, an idea came to mind. As we exited the restaurant, I asked,

“Would you like to come over?” As the words left my mouth, I knew he knew what I was probably insinuating. The memory of him making me climax with just his hand on the dance floor flooded my head, causing my face to heat up. He blinked down at me a few times with a slightly shocked expression written on his face.

“I.. I’d love to,” he said with a soft smile.

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| Spent all night just trying to get closer

We repeated the actions from the previous week, him opening the passenger door for me, then darting over to the driver’s side to join me in the car. I instructed him on how to get to my apartment complex from where we were at, but he remembered most of the way once we were in my neighborhood. 

“Turn at the corner store,” I directed him.

“I remember, Y/N.” He said sardonically. 

As we arrived at my complex, I pointed to where the visitor parking was and he pulled into a spot, turning off the ignition. We sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, just softly staring at each other and enjoying each other’s presence. Figuring if we stayed there a little longer it’d turn awkward, I swiftly got out of the car and inhaled a deep breath to try and steady myself. Noah followed suit, meeting me behind his car in front of my building. He looked at me for further instruction, I grabbed his warm hand and made our way up the stairwell to outside my apartment. 

“Well, this is me.” I stated as I unlocked the door. 

My apartment wasn’t too big, but I made it cozy and comfortable for myself. The entryway flowed directly into the living room where I had a black couch with various pillows and blankets I got from Homegoods during Halloween time, with a black coffee table littered with remotes, an empty mug I forgot to put in the sink before leaving, and some random papers from work I hadn’t found a place for yet. The TV stand was on the opposite wall of the couch, adorned with various DVDs (physical media isn’t dead) and movie memorabilia. I had fairy lights surrounding the room to give off some ambience in the later hours of the day. My walls were covered with various movie and music posters, and even a couple vinyl records displayed above my record player between the living room and kitchen. As Noah entered, his expression softened, like he realized that welcoming him into my home was far more intimate than he originally thought it would be. I put my bag on the hook near the door and quickly untied my boots and took them off. Noah noticed my action and repeated it by kicking off his Vans. 

I walked over to the couch, Noah trailing behind me as I made myself comfortable in my corner. He sat a bit rigid, resting his hands on his knees while he looked over at me. 

“So.. Did you wanna watch something or are you just gonna stare at me the whole time?” I teased him. He quickly looked away as a blush crept onto his cheeks, not realizing he was staring. 

“Sure,” he quietly stated. Anxiety and awkwardness started seeping into me, so I handed him the remote as I got up.

“Put on anything you’d like. I’ll be right back, I’m gonna use the restroom.” I’m not sure why I was getting nervous, his fingers have literally been inside me. The memory of him licking his fingers replayed in my head on a loop, making my body heat up at the thought. When I stepped into the bathroom, I ran my hands under cool water, hoping it could literally and figuratively cool me down. After drying my hands, I gave myself a once-over in the mirror and fixed my hair. I realized I was a bit warmer than I preferred, so I stopped into my bedroom to switch into a black tank top and grey sweats. As I returned to the living room, I noticed Noah got himself more comfortable on the couch, removing his hoodie while I was out of the room. He had turned on an anime I hadn’t seen yet which piqued my interest. I realized just how heavily inked he was, tattoos littered up and down his arms and further down his chest from what I could see near the hem of his t-shirt. 

“I see you’ve made yourself at home.” I stated while sitting back in my spot on the couch.

“Well, I found a good show to watch and figured I might as well get as comfortable as possible.” He responded while nuzzling into a blanket he was using as a pillow. We sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, just watching the characters on the screen. After a bit, I felt his eyes on me again, which I looked over at him and met his gaze. 

“Come here,” I requested, wanting to be closer to him. He sat up from his spot, leaning closer into me. I placed my hand onto his cheek, admiring the pretty boy sat in front of me. I could feel how warm his face was becoming, his blush returning to his cheeks. He placed his hand on my thigh, longing to have any physical contact with me but not wanting to cross boundaries.

“I really wanna kiss you,” he whispered to me, his eyes flickering between my eyes and my lips.

“Then kiss me, idiot,” I grinned at him. He swiftly leaned down and our lips connected. It started off soft and tender, but quickly heated up. It was evident both of us were yearning to be in each other’s space again. Without breaking the kiss, I sat up and threw my leg over his thighs so I was straddling him. I felt his cock quickly growing through his sweats beneath me, making me let out a small moan against his mouth. His hands were placed on my hips, slightly rocking me back and forth against him. I broke from our kiss to trail kisses and bites down his neck, similar to what he did to me that night at the bar. I rested one of my hands against his arm and tangled the other in his hair. He was breathing heavily and let out small whimpers and groans whenever I sunk my teeth into his neck. I spent much of my time on one area between his neck and collarbone that seemed to be his sweet spot. I returned to his lips, the kiss was a mess of spit and teeth. I put my hands under his shirt, hinting at wanting it to be removed. He got the signal, and quickly took it off. I sat in awe at all the ink displayed over his chest and tummy. I traced my fingers over the various designs, but he quickly put one of his hands behind my head to bring our lips together again. Our tongues fought for dominance, a dance that went on for a few moments as I kept grinding against him, both of us letting out small whimpers into each other’s mouths. I finally pulled away to ask him.

“Did you wanna move this to the bedroom?” to which he nodded while putting my arms around his neck to secure me against him as he sat up to carry me into my bedroom. The action made me giggle, feeling like I was climbing on him like a tree. There weren’t many other rooms in my apartment so he quickly found my bedroom in the small hallway from the door being open with purple fairy lights on to brighten the room. He delicately placed me on my bed as he stood at the foot of it, admiring my bedroom. It was decorated similarly to the rest of my apartment with a few more personal touches added. I hooked my leg around his to pull him towards me, bringing his attention back to me. He leaned down between my legs and caged my head between his arms. We continued our kiss as I ran my hands up and down his lean arms up into his hair. He pulled away, leaning up a bit to bring his hands down to the hem of my shirt,

“Can I take this off?” He politely asked me, I quickly nodded, wanting to feel his skin against my own. I sat up a bit to assist him in removing the fabric, he threw it somewhere on the floor behind him. His eyes trailed all over my bare chest, making me feel both nervous but turned me on even more. I grabbed him by his arm to pull him down, to feel him against me. He rocked his hips into me as his hand ran up and down my torso, exploring the curvature of my body with a delicate touch. He grabbed one of my boobs in his hand, rubbing his thumb softly over my nipple. His other arm was next to my head to give him stability. I decided he had already tasted me, so now it was my turn. I quickly flipped us over so I could be on top of him again, bringing my lips to his neck, continuing to kiss and bite all over. I slowly made my way down, trailing wet kisses and soft bites down his chest and tummy. As I reached the top of his sweats, I looked at him through my lashes,

“May I?” I breathed out as I curled my fingers around the waistband. He eagerly nodded as he bucked his hips up, giving me access to remove his sweats and boxers, throwing them somewhere behind me on the floor with my shirt. His cock slapped against his stomach as I removed them, my eyes widening at how big he was. I knew he was going to have a big dick, but jesus christ. Before I could think anymore, I brought my hand around the base of his cock, licking a stripe from the bottom to the tip, slowly licking his head with my tongue. My teases resulted in low groans and whimpers from Noah’s throat. I looked up at the boy I wanted to unravel, seeing I was close to being halfway there already. His brows were furrowed together, his lips swollen from our kisses, and his hazy eyes were half-lidded while meeting my gaze. While maintaining eye contact, I put him in my mouth, watching as he threw his head back against the pillow from the action. “Fuck,” he muttered, grabbing my hair in his hand but didn’t push, it being more of an attempt to ground himself. I started working my tongue around him, bobbing my head up and down as he let out the most beautiful noises I’ve ever heard from a man. The size of him resulted in me producing a lot more saliva from my attempts to take in all of him. I had never really ever been that into giving head, but I had a change of heart this time around. I continued working him until he softly pulled my head back. “If you keep going, I’ll cum..” He practically gasped out as I sat back on my heels, wiping away the mess of saliva and precum from my lips.

“Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” I retorted, raising an eyebrow. I quickly got up and grabbed a condom from my dresser drawer. I returned to my spot by his legs.

“Can I put this on?” I asked while holding up the condom, his eyes slightly widening at the request, but accepted it by a nod. I took the condom out of the wrapper and rolled it onto him. I quickly removed my own sweats and panties in one go. He sat up and quickly grabbed me to turn us back over so he was above me again. He kissed me deeply, pulling away and looking me in my eyes. 

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked softly.

“I’m one hundred percent positive.” I responded, smiling at him as I pulled him down to kiss him again. He leaned back onto his heels, staring at my pussy. He spat on his fingers, bringing it down to lubricate me a little with his saliva. The contact made my hips buck against his hand as he trailed his fingers over my clit and entrance. He bent down to hover over me again, giving me a peck to my lips before he looked down to guide himself into me. His eyes flicked up to me as he was about to enter,

“If you need to stop at any time, please tell me.” He politely told me.

“I will Noah.” I assured him. I felt him slowly slip inside me, I gasped at the pressure. His strokes started small, almost teasingly. He gave me time to adjust to his size, at first it hurt a little bit, but was quickly replaced with pleasure. I grabbed his head to bring him down to kiss me as he finally fully slipped inside of me.

“Noah..” I breathed out, his thrusts started off slow so he didn’t possibly hurt me. I bucked my hips against him to signal to move faster, which he followed up on. I could already feel my orgasm building inside of me.

“Fuck, Noah.” I whimpered out. 

“I know, baby. God, you feel so good.” He grunted. He placed all his weight onto his elbow as his other hand made its way between our bodies. I felt his thumb start tracing circles on my clit, making me let out a whine as my eyes practically rolled to the back of my head. The contact is exactly what I needed to come undone underneath him. I felt my walls tightening around him, and I could tell he was fighting off his own release by his growling and whispering swears into my ear while his thrusts were becoming sloppier and harder. He started slowing down.

“I’m not cumming until you have at least one more.” He quipped, grabbing my leg to rest it over his shoulder, making his cock sink further into me. His thumb was still tracing messy circles over my clit, determined to draw another orgasm out of me, which I felt quickly approaching. The stimulation of the new angle, driving himself deeper into me, feeling all of him, made my head fuzzy. After a few strokes, my second orgasm hit me, this one more intense than the last. I felt my vision start to blur at the edges, making me shut my eyes as his hips continued snapping into me. I felt myself still pulsing around him as he removed my leg from his shoulder, craving to be closer to my body, his head settled in the cook of my neck. 

“Fuck, Y/N.” He breathed out while haphazardly thrusting into me, making me clench around him more, which was all he needed to finish. I felt his cock twitch inside of me before slipping out as he relaxed his body over my own. This would usually feel overwhelming from the size of this man, but something about it made me feel safe, like he was a security blanket. He raised his head, grabbing my chin with his fingers and kissed me. The kiss felt deep and meaningful, like he was saying everything he wanted to express without speaking a word. He eventually pulled away but continued gazing into my eyes, his own still had a slight haze over them with his swollen lips curved into a soft smile.

“That was..” He started but trailed off at a loss for words. I giggled before responding,

“I won’t speak for you, but that was amazing.” I softly stated, him nodding in agreement before resting his head on my chest. 

We stayed in bed for a few minutes as I played with his hair and rubbed his scalp. We were both coming down from our highs and just enjoyed the feeling of the other’s skin pressed into our own. Noah eventually got off of me and out of the bed to discard the condom. He found his underwear in the pile of clothes we left on the floor and put them on while throwing my shirt and panties over to me. Before he had the chance to further dress himself, I asked,

“Do you wanna spend the night?” Shit, was that too much to ask? I started rambling to cover for myself, not wanting to seem too needy. 

“It’s fine if you don’t.. I.. uh.. just figured it probably already kind of late so I thought I’d ask. B-but it’s completely fine i-” He cut me off by bending down and kissing me.

“I’d love to spend the night, Y/N.” He stated as he pulled away, giving me a grin which I matched. 

Noah returned to the bed and I rested my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he lazily played with my hair. We stayed like this for a while before I realized I should shower before I fell asleep. I perked my head up, resting my chin against him as I looked up at him, his eyes were barely open but widened to meet my gaze. 

“I’m gonna go shower, would you care to join me?” I asked him lightheartedly as I sat up. He quirked a brow before answering,

“It would be my pleasure,” he replied with a smirk. 

The shower with Noah wasn’t sexual in nature, but sensual. While we both ran our gazes over each other's bodies numerous times, it felt like it was out of adoration rather than ogling. We shampooed each other's hair, him needing to bend down in order for me to lather his hair up properly. After thoroughly rinsing conditioner out from our hair, we washed the other’s body. I took my time while scrubbing the loofah over him as I admired the various ink adorning his skin. While all of them painted stories that I wasn’t aware of and didn’t feel the need to question him about them in the moment, the one that really caught my eye were the lines across his chest that went over his nipple. I had a couple smaller tattoos so I knew the pain associated with getting one, and the thought of a needle going over my own nipple various times made me cringe on the inside.

“So, how bad did that hurt?” I asked as I wiped away the soap from his chest. He looked down to see which ink I was referring to. 

“Like a bitch, but thankfully didn’t last long.” He stated. 

After our shower, I made sure to do my usual skin and body care routine and managed to find a spare toothbrush for Noah to use for the night. Once I was done, I came back into my bedroom to find Noah already tucked into the bed scrolling on his phone but quickly averted his eyes up to me.

“Hi.” He stated while giving me a toothy grin.

“Hi.” I replied as I made my way over to join him in bed. I was quickly engulfed by his large arms. The fairy lights were still on, engulfing his face in a purple glow that somehow made him look even more ethereal. 

“I had a good time today.” He softly spoke.

“I did too.” I responded. We stayed like that for a bit, just admiring each other until exhaustion from the day caught up to us. I remained in his arms, the feeling his breath against my neck lulling me to sleep. 

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| i don’t want to get over you

» [FUCK, I’M LONELY] «

0:00 ──────〇 3:37

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tag list: @xmads-omensx @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lil-garbitch @fadingangelwisp @dontwantthemoney @heyyoplayer @death-ofpeace-ofmind @thatchickwiththecamera @shayeanna-ashlie @supersquirrel1996 @overmydeadbodysblog @lacy1986 @renegadebirch @bloody-spades @pipidoll @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @chey-h

[slimesludge-space]

All because of some stupid pants?- Part 3

《Nothin but misunderstandings》

Note: this one a bit shorter but the next gonna be...a bit on the chonky side °~°

°~~°~~~~~~~°~~°~~~~~°~~°~~~~°~~°

Simon felt like a coward as he pulled his hand away from knocking at your door. The first step back gutted him and the other steps that followed only made the knife cut deeper as he picked up his clothes. sets the key down on the counter and locked the door behind him as he left the apartment.

Your sobs stopped, straining your ears as you heard each step and muffled rustling. The realization that everything was over finally sealed at the quiet click of the front door. Was it really that easy to leave? Was it too hard to fight anymore? Were you too harsh?

Your arms tightened around yourself as you finally glanced up at your scattered closet. Guys pants were more comfortable than some of the stuff they made for you. The fabric was thin and breathable with an adjustable string. Most of the time girls sleep wear were made with tight elastic and sometimes they were too short from the legs or stupid satin that made it feel like you were slipping out of bed and those fuckin pajama shorts covered absolutely nothing with how wide some are cut.

So why did it feel like it was your fault? That you should have known that guys would make assumptions at the sight of them. Did Simon really think you were a slut this whole time? Why did he stay? Did he really love you or was it because he thought you were easy?

Your thoughts swirled and drowned whatever soft memory you had with him. Smearing them in a twisted film filter of seeing everything as a way for him to have a quick fuck. After all, Simon wasn't bad looking. He was in a league of his own, a bit broody but the soft and constant presence he gave you was something you wouldn't have traded for the world. Not to mention that the girl in the photo was far better in every way. A short broken laugh leaving your lips at his new upgrade.

Two weeks, that's how long it had been since the shitty argument. The royal fuck up that Simon managed to create. The first week Simon waited for you to stop by his place to pick up your stuff. He had planned on using it as a way to beg for forgiveness and plead for another chance. But you never came, never came to pick up the unfinished books he carefully kept in the same spot on the shelf. Never came back for your favorite mugs stored in his cabinet or the spare duffle bag of clothes he placed in an empty drawer for you. He still had everything just the way you left it, from the shampoo brand you used, to the hair ties hanging off the trunk of a small white and blue painted circus elephant you had randomly found in a shop one day.

He spent that first week at the bar you two had met, hoping for the sliver of a chance that he'd bump into you. A part of him knew that going to your place would end up with another hard rejection and he didn't have the heart to face that yet. A week of going to that bar before it finally dawned on him how you two met.

How you told him flat out to his face that bars weren't really your style, that your friends dragged you for a girls night of fun. You were on your second drink that night when he ordered a glass of bourbon and noticed you perking up at brand. To him it looked like another girl just trying to get a free drink and was planning to joke about a small thing like you just after another free round. Your eyes twinkled as you blurted out about the history of how they are made like it was the greatest thing to talk about in the middle of a bar. All Simon could do was raise a brow as this random girl talked about what gave bourbon its unique taste. A smirk tugging his lips as you straightened up with pride about it.

Your eyes flickered to the side as your voice died down and a hand was placed on Simon's shoulder. He glanced at the hand before trailing up to find a girl far more his type, curled dark brown hair and a figure that he'd normally jump at the chance. Curved in all the right places and plushed all around. He barely caught your fake chuckle before the mystery woman spoke in a teasing tone

"Hey big guy, what's a tall, dark and handsome guy like you doin talking up my bookworm for?" Simon couldn't help but shift his eyes between the two of you. Watching the way you rolled your eyes and turned back to sip your drink like nothing was happening. He didn't like how quick you were in turning a blind eye before he spoke up

"Mind if I keep her a little longer? Was starting to warm up to her" Simon couldn't help pulling his shoulder away from her touch before shifting more towards you, not giving the girl a second glance "that'lright with you sweetheart?" And he couldn't hold back the deep chuckle as your eyes widen and the blush creeping up your cheeks.

You glanced up at Simon and noticed your friend giving a shit eating grin, already dreading what she was bound to say next.

"Alright big guy but we want her back in one piece. Go easy on her, she's a real softy" she patted his shoulder and you watched her practically scampering off to the table with your other friends. Thankful that he didn't turn back to witness your friend gossip to the others who immediately whipped their heads around and gave you a thumbs up and lifted their drinks high. Leaving you mortified and shy as you glance up at him.

"Um....that's Valerie, she means well I swear" Simon just laughed as your ears were practically turning pink.

Simon thought back at the memory as it made him question if he really knew you? Here he was, in the bar late at night thinking you'd walk through that door barely remembering your blatant dislike for the place. He downed the rest of his drink and walked out for the night to sleep it off so he can go to every book store near the area in hopes of bumping into you.

The second week went by. Six bookshops later and he came out empty handed with a heavy heart. He couldn't help rubbing the back of his neck and losing hope. Knowing that if he showed up at your door now, he was gonna get a barrel of insults and a door thrown at his face. He didn't want to let go just yet but he also knew that in reality, there wasn't a good reason for you to take him back.

Simon groaned, wishing he had went to his team earlier to help him win back who was supposed to be his future Missus Riley. Cracking his neck as his eyes found a shop he didn't expect to see across the street in a weird color purple written in cursive 'Uncle Will's clothing shop' the same name you had yelled and defended when he called the clothes shitty.

A barely there glimmer of hope and regret filled his heart as he hesitantly made his way to the shop. The bell ringing sharply as he entered and a voice called out from inside "Welcome to Uncle Will's clothing shop! Who needs formal when you can have funk!"

Simon was already regretting his decision rather quickly.

°~~°~~~~~~~°~~°~~~~~°~~°~~~~°~~°

*trying to figure out....spacing* ×~×

[circumscribitwrites]

My job agency’s suggested the staff writer role for me. I guess it makes sense, I’ve got a social sciences degree from a top university so they can guess I’m good at writing. I’m not sure what content Men’s Monthly would want from a bear like me though. While it’s only been a year and a bit since I graduated, my muscle pretty much dissolved to fat while I was studying, and I think it’s about working out or something? But it can’t hurt to show up to interview.

You had a great body when you started university. It didn’t last.

The campus gym was closed for “social distancing.” You never left your dorm. All you could do was eat, study, sleep, and repeat. Other people had their freshman fifteen. For you, it was closer to fifty.

Thanks, Covid-19.

You tried one diet after another. You promised yourself that you’d finally exercise again - starting tomorrow, of course. But you had to put your studies first. The weight just didn’t come off. By the time you graduated, you’d replaced every piece of clothing you owned.

Twice.

Health and fitness weren’t your forte - at least not anymore. That's why you never expected Men’s Monthly to reach out to you.

“So,” said the interviewer, “we don’t doubt that you can do the job. But we’re interested in how you’d do it. We want someone who can take a personal approach to their stories. Really get involved, have skin in the game, connect with our audience, all that. Is that you?"

You nodded.

“Alright, great! Now, before we go further, there’s just a little assignment. We want you to write a story - nothing too long. Shouldn’t take more than a day. Here it is: Why do you work out?”

You gulped. You hadn’t been to the gym in…years. And the idea of going in there now, looking like…you? You felt sick to your stomach.

Your stomach.

You blinked. “Sure...That’s no problem.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great. Just let me know when you’ve written it!”

The call ended. You let out a sigh. You couldn’t just come up with some fake story. And there was a gym just down the street…

You rummaged through your closest, finding old sweatpants with just enough give to fit around your waist and a t-shirt baggy enough to cover up your stomach. It was easy enough to get a pass for the gym. You ventured beyond the front desk, surveying the equipment: treadmills, exercise bikes, weight machines, squat racks, dumbbells.

Dumbbells.

How hard could they be? They literally had dumb in the name, after all. You walked over to the rack and picked up the weights, one in each hand. Slowly, carefully, you moved them upward.

Your muscles flexed, biceps already bulging.

Why did you work out?

Because you wanted to feel healthy. To be strong.

Another curl. You felt yourself getting warmer, beads of sweat forming on your forehead.

Why did you work out?

Because it felt good. And you deserved to feel good.

The weights felt heavier now. Your muscles burned. Sweat ran down your face, falling into your eyes. You kept going, kept pushing.

Why did you work out?

‘Cus this is what you do. Workin’ out’s part of you. Always has been.

Your shirt was drenched. You put the weights down and peeled it off your skin, tossing it to the floor.

Yeah, you worked out.

And it made you look like a fuckin’ beast.

Your shoulders were broad, your chest wide, your arms pumped, your abs glistening. You couldn’t get enough of your own reflection.

They’re gonna want something for that story. Better take a pic.

Thanks for applying, Anonymous!

And if you're looking to Be a Man™, Men's Monthly is still hiring!

[fordiaz]

Smoke Signals (Eddie Diaz) 🧃⋆˙ᝰ.ᐟ

“Because you hurt her. I saw it. I picked up the pieces while you played house with someone else.” ✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜

Synopsis: You’ve always been Buck’s person — his best friend, his confidante — and he’s always kept a quiet, unspoken affection for you. But you’ve drawn a clear line: no dating within the workplace. That is, until Eddie Diaz walks into Station 118 and suddenly your rules seem negotiable. Buck watches as you transform in front of him, and it nearly breaks him. But things aren’t as simple as they seem, especially when Eddie’s past — and his wife — come to light. What follows is a long road of heartbreak, silence, healing… and ultimately, love.

Genre: Drama, Romance, Angst, Slow Burn

AU: None

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Afab!Reader (with heavy Buck x Reader friendship angst)

Warnings: Eddie is a major asshole but I only did it to get his messy love life out the way (😭), Evan Buckley with second male lead syndrome, mention of a cardiac arrest and OD, character death (Shannon).

Note: Guys this is my first 911 fic after rebranding this account so BE NICE please. ;; Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this read, I tried to at least be lore accurate somehow because my memory of S1-S4 is still a bit fuzzy since I just started rewatching the show, so no mentions of Marisol or anything just yet. Don’t forget to like + reblog as a way of supporting me and other writers as well, happy reading!

The sweltering Los Angeles summer heat had nothing on the firehouse kitchen when the crew of Station 118 rolled in after a long call.

The air was thick with post-adrenaline energy, gear clunking to the ground, laughter echoing off the walls, and the scent of someone burning microwave popcorn — again.

You stood near the coffee machine, peeling off your gloves, when Buck nudged your side.

“Bet you five bucks Hen blames me for that popcorn smell in five minutes,” he said, grinning.

You didn’t even look up. “It was you.”

Buck feigned offense. “Allegedly.”

“You literally said you’d try that TikTok trick where you pour milk in the bag to make it creamier.”

“Okay, that sounds made up—”

“You said it. In front of everyone.”

Hen walked in right on cue. “Jesus, Buck! Did you try the milk thing again? I told you it’s just online nonsense—”

You tossed a knowing look his way, biting back a smirk.

“Unbelievable,” Buck muttered under his breath, defeated.

This was the rhythm of you and Buck — light banter, teasing, but underneath it all: something quieter, deeper. You’d known each other before 118. The kind of bond forged in chaos and grief, a friendship built like a fireproof wall.

There were people in the world who made you feel seen. Buck made you feel known. And that should’ve been enough.

It was enough.

Until he walked in.

You remember the day Eddie Diaz arrived with perfect clarity — how calm he looked stepping out of Bobby’s car, uniform immaculate, boots polished, expression unreadable.

His eyes scanned the station like he was evaluating threats, but not in a hostile way. Just… trained. Controlled. Measured.

“Everyone, this is Eddie Diaz,” Bobby had announced.

“He’s transferring in from Texas. Served in the Army, graduated top of his class this week, and has a bunch of medical experience that could aid us during calls. He’ll be riding with us starting today.”

Your eyes locked with his across the room.

He nodded once. “Hey.”

You said “hey” back, but it came out breathier than you meant it to — like your lungs hadn’t caught up with the rest of your body.

There was nothing flirtatious in his greeting. It was a single word. A glance.

So why did it linger?

In the weeks that followed, Eddie proved himself quickly. He was sharp on calls, steady under pressure, the kind of firefighter who didn’t flinch even when everything went to hell. And yet, despite his precision and quiet nature, he never came off as cold.

He listened. He noticed things.

Like the way your hands trembled slightly after high-stakes rescues — and how he’d subtly pass you a water bottle before you even realized you needed one. Or how he always volunteered to cover your spot on late shifts when you looked run-down, without asking questions.

You told yourself it was professionalism. Just one teammate helping another.

But when you’d hear him laugh — that low, soft laugh he reserved for moments where his walls dropped — you started to forget why you’d drawn the line in the first place.

The infamous “no dating in the firehouse” rule had always been more about protection than principle. You saw what happened when lines blurred. You saw the mess it left behind when it fell apart.

And Buck… Buck was always the exception you refused to let yourself entertain.

He was too close. Too familiar. Too safe.

You knew how he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. You knew the way his hand lingered half a second longer when he passed you your helmet, or the way he always positioned himself between you and danger — instinctively, like muscle memory.

But you also knew how fragile your friendship was. If you opened that door, there was no going back. And you didn’t want to lose him.

Eddie, on the other hand… Eddie was new. Untangled. Unknown.

Tempting.

“Okay,” Hen said one night, sitting across from you in the loft after a call, “I gotta ask.”

You glanced at her over the rim of your mug. “Ask what?”

“The Diaz situation.”

“There is no ‘Diaz situation,’” you said calmly, biting back a smile.

“Girl, please. You turned down dinner with us to ‘go over reports with Eddie.’ At his place.”

“We were organizing notes from last week’s apartment fire.”

Hen raised a brow. “And you couldn’t have done that here?”

You opened your mouth, closed it, then sighed. “You’re reading into things.”

“Oh, honey,” she said, “everyone’s reading into things. Chimney started a betting pool. Bobby is pretending not to notice. And Buck—” she paused.

“Buck’s trying real hard not to care, but he does.”

Your chest tightened.

You’d noticed the shift in Buck. He was still Buck — still your partner on calls, still quick to joke, still watching your six like always. But the light in his eyes had dulled a little.

The jokes didn’t come as easy. Sometimes you’d catch him watching you and Eddie talking in the corner of the station, and he’d look away before your eyes could meet.

You weren’t stupid. You knew what it looked like from the outside.

Hell, even from the inside, it scared you.

Because Eddie made you feel like someone had finally met you at your level — calm, careful, steady. And you couldn’t pretend you didn’t crave that stability.

But with every step you took closer to Eddie, something inside you whispered that you were walking further and further away from something else.

From someone else.

Later that night, as the station settled and the lights dimmed, you found Buck in the garage, fiddling with his turnout gear. Everyone else had gone to sleep, but he was wide awake, pretending to be busy.

“You good?” you asked gently.

He didn’t look at you at first. “Yeah. Just… cleaning up.”

You stood beside him in silence for a beat before saying, “I’m not trying to hurt anyone.”

Buck nodded, lips pressed into a thin line. “I know.”

The words hung heavy between you, unsaid but understood.

You weren’t breaking a rule. But something was breaking — maybe slowly, maybe just in Buck’s heart. You didn’t know how to fix it without undoing the thing that had finally made you feel seen in a new way.

And as Buck finally looked at you, eyes soft but distant, you wondered if maybe some lines weren’t meant to be crossed — only redrawn.

The call came in midafternoon.

Cardiac arrest. Male, mid-60s. Possible overdose on blood thinners.

You and Eddie loaded into the rig without missing a beat — a rhythm that had started forming between you, quiet and natural.

Hen had swapped rotations with Chim earlier, and Buck was partnered with Ravi that day, left behind at the station when you rolled out with Diaz.

That’s what made it worse.

Buck couldn’t do anything but watch from the bay doors as the rig pulled away, your laughter echoing faintly just before the doors slammed shut.

He’d never heard you laugh like that for anyone on shift before.

Meanwhile, the scene was chaos. The man’s daughter was sobbing on the front porch, screaming at the 9-1-1 dispatcher still on speakerphone.

Eddie cleared a path through the entryway while you knelt beside the patient, fingers flying over his pulse points.

“Unresponsive, no pulse,” you called. “Starting compressions.”

Eddie dropped beside you, AED already powered on. You didn’t have to speak much — he mirrored your movements like he already knew how you liked to work. And that was new.

You had a rhythm with Buck, sure, but with Eddie it felt instinctive. A kind of quiet understanding you hadn’t even noticed forming until it was already there.

“One milligram epi, IV push,” you said quickly. “Charging at 200.”

Eddie handed you the syringe, voice calm. “Done.”

The daughter sobbed louder behind you. “Please save him,” she begged.

You didn’t blink. “We’re doing everything we can.”

Eddie moved in to relieve your compressions, sweat glistening along his brow, but his hands never faltered. He was strong, steady — and when you met his eyes across the man’s chest, you felt a strange heat crawl beneath your ribs.

Focus.

But you saw it then. That flicker of something in his gaze. Not admiration. Not just trust. It was quieter than that. A kind of silent awe.

After two shocks and almost eight minutes of CPR, the man’s pulse came back.

The daughter fell to her knees. “Oh my God.”

Eddie exhaled deeply, sitting back on his heels, eyes finding yours again.

You grinned, exhausted but satisfied. “Nice work, Diaz.”

“You too,” he said. But he was still looking at you.

And that heat returned — low and persistent, curling at the base of your spine.

Back at the rig, you leaned against the open doors while Eddie finished writing his report. You were quiet for a beat, letting the adrenaline wear off. The day was warm, sun angling across the metal, casting a golden glow on his skin.

You watched him — the way he furrowed his brow when he focused, the faint scar on his jaw you hadn’t noticed before, the way he chewed lightly on the inside of his cheek.

“What?” he asked without looking up.

“Hm?”

“You’re staring.”

You smirked. “Maybe I just like the view.”

Eddie’s pen stilled. He looked at you — really looked — and for a moment the air felt charged.

“That was the most unprofessional thing I’ve heard you say in uniform,” he said. You lifted a brow.

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it.”

His mouth twitched. “I didn’t say that.”

You were about to push it further — tease him the way you had a few nights ago during a late-night coffee run — but your phone buzzed. Buck.

BUCKLEY: Call went okay?

You stared at the message for a moment. Then typed back.

YOU: Yeah. Patient survived. All good.

You didn’t mention the moment. You didn’t tell him how Eddie’s hand had brushed yours when you passed the IV kit, or how your heart skipped a beat when he smiled at you afterward like you were the only person in the world.

You didn’t mention how easy it felt.

Because that wasn’t the kind of thing you could explain over text.

Later that evening, when you and Eddie walked back into the station, laughing about something Christopher had said the other day — Buck noticed.

He’d been waiting. Watching the clock. Pretending to sort equipment in the gear room when really, he was just trying not to let the jealousy eat him alive.

But then he saw you.

Not just the way you walked beside Eddie — close enough to brush shoulders — but the way you looked up at him, lit from within.

Buck had known you for years. Through heartbreaks, broken bones, birthdays, and breakdowns. He’d been there when your dad had passed. When your first real relationship after him had crumbled. When you’d failed your lieutenant’s exam and then aced it six months later.

He had seen you cry. He had seen you fight.

But he’d never seen you smile like that.

Not for him.

“You ever think about switching partners?” Buck asked casually, later that night, lounging in the kitchen.

You were pulling a water bottle from the fridge. “What, like musical chairs but with defibs?”

He shrugged. “I just meant, you and me used to ride out together more. Kinda miss it.”

You turned, leaning against the counter.

“It’s not like I asked to switch. Just how the schedule landed.”

“But you like it better with Eddie?”

There it was.

You hesitated. “Eddie’s easy to work with.”

Buck nodded, but his jaw tightened. “Right.”

You studied him. “Is this… weird for you?”

Buck looked up, and for the first time, there was no teasing in his eyes. Just honesty.

“A little.”

The air stretched between you. You didn’t answer.

Didn’t know how to.

Hen pulled you aside the next day as soon as you came in for your shift. “He’s not handling it well,” she said gently.

You sighed. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“I know. But Buck’s always had a blind spot when it comes to you. Maybe he never thought you’d actually fall for someone else.”

You rubbed a hand over your face. “I haven’t fallen for anyone.”

Hen gave you a look. “Girl, please. I saw the way you looked at Eddie after that call. Like he invented CPR.”

You groaned. “That obvious?”

“Only to everyone with eyes.”

You didn’t know what this thing with Eddie was yet — just that it was starting to take up more space in your chest than you wanted to admit.

It was in the way he walked beside you to the rig every morning.

The way he remembered how you took your coffee — sweet, no cream — and brought you one on tough days without being asked.

The way he saw you — not as a rule or a boundary or a decision you made once to protect yourself, but as someone worth knowing anyway.

You hadn’t crossed any lines yet. Not officially.

But the pull was undeniable now.

And the line was starting to blur.

It had been months since that first call with Eddie. Months since that quiet moment by the rig, where the air between you shifted and never quite returned to neutral.

And now?

Now it was breakfast at the same diner after shift, every Tuesday without fail — him always getting black coffee, you ordering the same banana pancakes you swore you’d try to switch up one day.

Now it was shared glances across the truck when Captain gave new assignments. Subtle, silent nods that said I’ve got you louder than words ever could.

Now it was you and Eddie waiting in line for coffee with Chim, bickering over who gets to use the punch card next.

It was laughing until you wheezed because Hen made a crack about how Eddie’s flirting sounded more like reading Miranda rights.

Now it was Christopher.

Meeting him hadn’t been planned — not really. Eddie had invited you along to the adaptive soccer game he helped coach, casual, no-pressure. You said yes because you wanted to support him.

But then you saw the way his son looked at him. Like he hung the moon.

And then you saw the way Eddie looked at you when you knelt beside Christopher after the game to tie his shoelace, laughing at something he said about wanting to be taller than his dad one day.

You weren’t a stranger to kids — you had nieces and nephews, the occasional firehouse tour where little ones clung to your leg. But with Christopher, it was different. You weren’t trying.

You just fit.

And Eddie saw that.

That scared you more than anything.

Back at the station, Buck noticed.

It wasn’t just the way you and Eddie gravitated toward each other — it was the little things. The way Eddie always saved you a seat. The way you reached for his arm when you laughed. The way you spoke in half-sentences he somehow always understood.

He noticed the way Carla had started asking you if you’d be around next weekend when she planned something for Christopher.

The way you already knew where Eddie kept his protein bars in his locker — because he liked the peanut butter ones, not the chocolate.

It wasn’t subtle.

It wasn’t nothing.

And Buck? Buck was unraveling by the day.

Because he wasn’t just watching the man he considered a brother fall for someone. He was watching you — the person he’d quietly loved, the one he always protected, always hoped would someday look back and see him — fall for someone else.

And worse?

You didn’t seem like you were falling at all.

You looked like you already had.

The revelation came without warning.

You and Eddie had just come back from a routine call — a standard ride-along with a heart patient, nothing intense. You were sitting on the back bumper of the rig, sipping a bottle of water, talking about some beach you wanted to visit in the summer. Eddie was unusually quiet.

“You okay?” you asked.

He nodded. Then hesitated. “I need to tell you something.”

The knot in your stomach formed instantly.

“It’s about my wife,” he said. Your heart stumbled.

“Your… wife?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Shannon.”

You said nothing. The world spun.

“We’re… married, technically. Separated. Long story,” he added quickly, seeing your face drop. “We’ve been off and on for years. We tried again after I left the army, for Christopher. But it didn’t… stick.”

You blinked. “So she’s not… in the picture?”

“She was. Until a few months ago. She’s been back in L.A. Trying to figure things out. With Chris. With me.”

Your stomach turned. “And you didn’t think to mention this sooner?”

Eddie looked pained. “I didn’t know how. It’s not like we were—”

“Not like we were what?” you asked, voice sharp. “Not like we were seeing each other? Sharing breakfast every Tuesday? Like I haven’t met your son?”

His jaw clenched. “I didn’t mean to lie to you.”

“You just left out your marriage?”

The silence stretched.

You stood up, every bone in your body aching like you’d just taken a fall from three stories up.

“Was this a game to you?” you asked, quieter now.

“No. Never,” he said instantly. “It’s complicated.”

You scoffed. “You think I don’t know complicated?”

But the words felt hollow.

You didn’t wait for a response. You walked away.

And for weeks after that, you barely spoke.

Buck found you in the garage one evening, elbow-deep in engine checks.

“You alright?” he asked.

You didn’t look up. “Fine.”

“I heard about… you and Eddie.”

You paused. “There is no me and Eddie.”

Buck watched you for a moment, saw how your hands moved slower than usual. How your eyes stayed trained on the wrench like it held all the answers.

“I just want you to know,” he said, softer now, “you didn’t deserve that.”

You finally looked at him. “Thanks.”

There was a beat.

Then he added, “He should’ve told you from the start.”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

But even as you said it, something twisted in your chest — because part of you knew he hadn’t meant to hurt you. Part of you remembered the way he looked at you during those quiet in-between moments.

The part of you that hadn’t stopped feeling warm whenever Christopher mentioned you in passing, like you already lived in their orbit.

It wasn’t that you stopped caring.

It was that you stopped trusting.

Eddie didn’t push. Not at first.

He let you have your silence, your distance. He knew he’d earned it. He didn’t make excuses.

But he waited.

He sent you coffee on the days he wasn’t at your side. Asked Hen to check in. Made sure you were still partnered on the rotation board. Never once overstepped.

Just… waited. Quietly. Steadily.

It wasn’t until Shannon’s accident that everything changed.

You weren’t there for it. You only heard about it through quiet whispers and late-night conversations at the firehouse during your shift.

A car crash. Christopher had been in the vehicle too. A drunk driver ran a red light.

Shannon died.

Instantly, it seemed — at least that’s what they told Eddie.

He’d later tell you about the last real conversation they ever had. Not at the accident. Before it.

It was in a hospital waiting room, after another tense day of figuring out how to co-parent. She told him she was thinking of leaving again — for good this time.

That being a mom full-time, being part of Eddie and Christopher’s world again… it just wasn’t what she wanted anymore.

She didn’t say it to be cruel. She said it like someone already halfway out the door.

And then she was gone.

No chance to work it out. No goodbye to Christopher. No final decision made. Just… gone.

Eddie never got to confess the truth to her — that he wasn’t angry anymore, just tired. That he had found peace somewhere outside of what they once had. That he’d started to look at someone else — you — and feel like the future didn’t have to hurt.

So he sat with that guilt.

Not because he still loved her.

But because she was Christopher’s mother. Because they never got closure. Because part of him still blamed himself for not trying harder to keep her safe, even though he knew it wasn’t his fault.

And when he told you all of this — standing outside the station one evening, his voice low and quiet like it was breaking all over again — you didn’t say anything right away.

You just looked at him. At the pain he wore so openly. At the strength it took to admit that grief wasn’t always linear.

Then you took a step closer. And another.

Until your hand was in his, and neither of you said a word. Because some wounds don’t need fixing.

They just need someone willing to stay.

The distance between you soon narrowed. Slowly, but surely. You started saying good morning again. Let yourself smile at his jokes. Started asking about Christopher.

And then one night — after a long shift, when the sun was rising over the station — Eddie sat beside you on the roof and told you:

“I never wanted to hurt you. But the truth is… you’re the first thing that’s made me feel real in a long time.”

You didn’t say anything.

You just leaned your head on his shoulder.

And for the first time in weeks, it didn’t feel like falling.

It felt like staying.

The quiet between you and Eddie hadn’t been as sharp lately, but it was still there — soft around the edges, cautious. Like stepping on floorboards you weren’t sure were stable anymore.

You were civil. Friendly, even. But the spark, the comfort, the trust — that was still something you kept just out of reach. He knew it too.

Which is why he pulled you aside after shift, asking if you had a moment — his voice low, unsure. You could see the worry in his eyes, the tension in the way he stood, like he was waiting for the ground to split beneath him.

You nodded.

He led you outside, away from the bustle of the station, to where the sun was just beginning to set behind the trees. His hands were shoved in his pockets, jaw tight, like every word was a landmine.

“I owe you another truth,” he said finally.

You stayed quiet. Waiting.

“I saw someone else,” he confessed. “Back when you and I weren’t speaking.”

You froze, your breath catching. “Who?”

He swallowed. “Christopher’s teacher. Ana Flores.”

You tried not to let it show — the way your stomach twisted. You tried to remind yourself you weren’t together. That he had every right. But logic didn’t numb betrayal.

“Right,” you said, quietly. “That’s… understandable.”

“No, it’s not,” he replied quickly. “Not really. Not when I was still carrying you around like a shadow.”

You blinked, caught off guard.

“It wasn’t serious,” he added. “But I think… I think I was trying to prove something to myself. That I could move on clean. That I could pick someone safe, someone easy. Someone who didn’t know all the messy parts of me.”

Your throat felt tight. “Did Christopher like her?”

Eddie looked down at the ground and let out a half-laugh. “He tolerated her. Until he didn’t.”

You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean?”

He looked back at you then, more vulnerable than you’d seen him in weeks.

“One day he just… called me out for dating his teacher. Said I was being weird. Said I smiled more around you than I ever did around Ana. And then he asked me if I was gonna stop pretending you didn’t make our lives better.”

You didn’t realize you’d been holding your breath.

“He told me,” Eddie went on, “that if I liked Ana, that was fine. But if I loved you, then I needed to stop wasting everyone’s time and admit it. Because in his words, ‘It’s not fun having dinner with someone who isn’t her.’”

You blinked. “Christopher said that?”

Eddie nodded. “He’s smarter than me. Always has been.”

There was a beat.

Then he said, softer now, “He was right. About everything. I kept thinking I needed something easy. But you—” He stopped, took a breath.

“You’re not just someone I like having around. You’re the person who saw all of me and stayed. Until I made you think you shouldn’t.”

Your voice wavered. “You broke my heart.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know,” he repeated, his voice raw now.

You swallowed hard. “Did Carla say anything?”

Eddie actually winced.

“Yeah. She wasn’t subtle.” That made you raise an eyebrow.

“She told me I was a damn fool,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Said you were one of the kindest people she’d seen around Christopher — and me — and that if I was going to waste that on old guilt and bad timing, then I didn’t deserve either of you.”

You smiled at that, just faintly. “She’s good with words.”

“She’s terrifying when she’s mad.”

That pulled a laugh out of you, soft and surprised.

But then Eddie stepped closer, tentative. Not assuming. Just… hoping.

“I’m not asking you to jump back into something that hurt,” he said gently.

“I just want you to know I’m not running from the hard parts anymore. I don’t want easy. I want real. And real has always been you.”

Your eyes met his.

You didn’t answer right away. But for the first time in a long time, the part of you that had been holding back started to ease.

Because people can change when they’re brave enough to face themselves.

And Eddie Diaz had finally stopped running.

The air in the firehouse was thick with unspoken tension — not from smoke or sirens, but from you and Eddie.

There wasn’t a dramatic announcement, no hand-holding or grand gestures. But the shift was unmistakable.

You laughed with him again, ribbed him during lunch, casually adjusted the collar of his uniform before a call like it was the most natural thing in the world. Eddie had that soft-eyed look around you, the one that said everything even when he said nothing.

Everyone noticed.

Especially Buck.

He didn’t say anything the first few days. Just watched.

Watched you pass each other notes across the table. Watched you wait for Eddie to catch up before grabbing coffee on runs. Watched Eddie find excuses to stay by your side, even when the rotation didn’t require it.

And eventually, it all came to a head.

The call was a simple one — a heat exhaustion case during a community clean-up event. Nothing too intense. You and Eddie worked the scene like a well-oiled machine.

No friction, no hesitation. Just you and him, falling back into rhythm like the months of silence and pain hadn’t existed.

When you returned to the station, Buck pulled Eddie aside without warning. Right there in the apparatus bay.

“Hey. We need to talk.” Eddie blinked, pausing mid-step.

“Yeah? What’s up?”

Buck crossed his arms. “You and Y/N. What’s going on?”

Eddie’s jaw tensed. “That’s between me and her.”

Buck stepped forward. “She’s my friend too, Ed.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?” Buck’s voice rose slightly, not angry — not yet — but close. “Because you hurt her. I saw it. I picked up the pieces while you played house with someone else.”

Eddie’s eyes darkened. “It wasn’t like that.”

“No?” Buck challenged. “Because from where I stood, you disappeared when she needed you most. Then suddenly you’re back like nothing happened?”

Eddie was quiet for a moment.

Then: “I’m not pretending nothing happened. I’ve done nothing but deal with what happened.”

Buck scoffed. “Does she know about Ana?”

“She knows everything.”

“And she still forgave you?” Buck said, incredulous. “After all that?”

Eddie nodded slowly. “She did. Because she’s… her.”

That stopped Buck for a beat. He looked away, jaw tight.

“I never wanted to be in the middle of this,” Buck said, quieter now. “But I’ve known her longer than you. I know what she looks like when she gets her heart broken. And you broke her, man.”

“I know,” Eddie said again, firm now. “And I hate myself for it.”

Buck looked at him, really looked at him. “Then why now? Why come back into her life like this if you’re not absolutely sure?”

“I am sure,” Eddie said, no hesitation this time.

“Christopher’s sure. Carla’s sure. And most days, I think she is too. I’m still earning that. But I don’t want temporary. I want… all of it. Her.”

Buck blinked, caught off guard by the honesty.

“I didn’t plan it,” Eddie continued.

“But she fits into our lives like she was always meant to be there. And I almost lost that because I was scared. Because I didn’t think I deserved to move on.”

The silence stretched. Just the hum of the garage.

Then Buck sighed, rubbed the back of his neck. “Christopher likes her?”

“He loves her,” Eddie said. “Told me he was tired of me being stupid about it.”

A quiet laugh broke through Buck’s frustration, against his will.

He looked down for a second. Then back at Eddie.

“You gonna mess it up again?”

“No.”

“Because if you do,” Buck warned, softer now, “you’re not just breaking her heart this time. You’re breaking his too.”

“I know.”

“And mine,” Buck added, after a beat. “Because I trust you. And I love her, so much. So if she’s yours… protect her.”

Eddie’s voice was steady. “I will.”

The tension didn’t disappear, not completely. But something shifted. A silent understanding.

Because Buck didn’t need to win.

He just needed to know you’d be okay.

And now, maybe — just maybe — you finally would be.

The Diaz house was quiet except for the hum of the ceiling fan and the soft bubbling of something simmering on the stove.

You were barefoot in the kitchen, stirring a pan with one hand, swaying lightly to the music playing from Eddie’s speaker.

Eddie was leaned against the counter, watching you with that lazy grin he didn’t use around anyone else — not even at the station.

His gaze lingered on the way your nose scrunched when you tasted the sauce, the way you swatted him playfully when he tried to sneak a bite.

It was domestic. Soft. Easy.

And Buck saw it all from the doorway.

He had come over to drop off a charger Christopher had left in his duffel at the station. He hadn’t expected… this.

The house smelling like garlic and warmth, Christopher at the table drawing something you’d clearly helped him outline. The laughter. The kind of peace Buck hadn’t seen in Eddie’s home since before the storm of the past year.

He didn’t knock.

Eddie spotted him first. “Buck?”

You turned around, eyes widening with surprise, then softening with warmth.

“Hey. Everything okay?”

Buck lifted the charger, a sheepish smile playing at his lips. “Thought Chris might need this back.”

“Uncle Buck!” Christopher perked up from his drawing, grinning. “Come in! We’re having spaghetti. And she made garlic bread but didn’t let Dad near it.”

You laughed. “He almost burned the first batch.”

Buck stepped further in, the scent of dinner wrapping around him like a memory. “You guys always have it this nice?”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Define nice.”

“I mean—” Buck paused. “—quiet. Normal. Feels like… I don’t know, a real home.”

You and Eddie exchanged a glance. That unspoken tether between you sparking to life again. But instead of brushing it off, Eddie invited Buck to stay.

“Grab a plate,” he said. “We always make too much.”

Buck hesitated, but Christopher’s enthusiasm — and the way you smiled like you wanted him there — made it easier to cross the floor and take a seat.

Dinner was filled with soft chatter and bursts of laughter. Christopher went on about his latest school project, something involving dragons and ancient civilizations.

You asked questions like you meant them, nodding along and gently correcting his pronunciation when he stumbled on a word. Eddie chimed in occasionally, but mostly watched — a silent kind of contentment in his eyes.

Buck ate in silence for the first few minutes. Not because he felt left out. But because he was watching it all unfold like a scene in a movie he used to wish he’d starred in.

You made Christopher feel seen. Valued. Eddie seemed lighter. Happier. The old shadows still lingered — Buck wasn’t blind — but they weren’t as loud as they used to be.

And that twist in Buck’s gut?

It wasn’t bitterness.

It was grief — for what he’d imagined once, maybe. For the possibility that you might’ve chosen him, if things had unfolded differently. But mostly, it was just change.

The ache that comes with watching people you love move forward without you in the center anymore.

After dinner, you and Eddie cleared the table while Christopher pulled Buck over to the couch to show off his drawing. It was a three-headed dragon with fire in its teeth — and all three heads were labeled: You, Dad, and Y/N.

“She helps me name stuff better,” Chris said proudly.

Buck smiled, swallowing the knot in his throat. “You’re lucky to have her.”

Christopher didn’t look up. “Dad is, too.”

Buck sat back as Eddie joined them, handing you a glass of water as he took his spot beside his son. You tucked yourself beside them like you belonged — and maybe, finally, you did.

And that’s when Buck realized something else.

This wasn’t the end of anything.

It was just a different beginning.

And maybe, for the first time, he didn’t have to be the one fixing everything. Maybe he just had to let people be happy.

Even if it wasn’t his happy.

As the night stretched on, Buck caught Eddie’s eye once. No words were exchanged — just a nod. One that said: I see it. I get it. Just take care of them.

And Eddie, steady as ever, nodded back.

I will.

© fordiaz 25’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

[queerfables]

Notes From The Timeline: Songbird was (probably) not written for Nicole

Only a handful of you know this yet but over the past month or so I've been working on a big project involving putting together a comprehensive, sourced Oasis timeline with a focus on the shifting relationships dynamics between Noel and Liam. This is not even close to finished yet but as it fills out, I've been exploring some of the contradictions in the stories about them.

This particular theory was brought to me by @las-lus who noticed that the timeline on when Songbird was written vs when Nicole and Liam met was somewhat sketchy. Las hypothesised that despite claims in the press that the song was for Nic, it might have been written before they even met. I went on a deep dive to see if I could confirm or refute this and this is what I turned up:

Las mentioned this, and I found it to be the case too: as far as I can tell, there aren't any direct quotes where Liam himself said he wrote it for Nicole. They were together when the song was released and it seems like maybe the media made assumptions.

Songbird was released in 2002 on Heathen Chemistry. But, as is often the case with their songs, it was written a few years prior.

Liam wrote Songbird sometime in April or May 1999. This is when Oasis was in Nice, France, recording SOTSOG. (See the recording info on their SOTSOG Sessions album for these dates)

"I wrote it in France under a tree while we were doing Standing On The Shoulders. It's about a bird who sings. Took ten minutes. Only two chords. Not much going on. What's it about? What do you think it's fucking about? It's about me playing me fuckin' guitar..." (From Q May 2002, quoted here)

"I wrote that as a one off. We were in France. We had this massive fucking mansion doing our album. I went out one day, sat under a tree, had a bit of a biblical moment and that popped up and that was it." (From the Lock The Box video)

Nicole and Liam met in France, on 11 May 1999. She was there for five days with her band, celebrating and promoting the film they had just been cast in, Honest. I arrived at their meeting date by comparing the account in Nicole and Natalie's joint memoir, Together, with the date of the film's publicity shots at the 1999 Cannes film festival.

Since Nicole and Liam met in France, it IS POSSIBLE that Songbird was written for her. At this point, I went back to Las and said "Sorry, hon, I think it was for Nic after all. They met in France, he wrote the song there, it sounds like a Hot Summer of Infidelity track to me."

BUT.

THEN.

For unrelated reasons, I revisited Nicole's memoir a few weeks later, and this time I actually read it instead of skimming for dates.

And look I fully realise that she might be lying, but from her version of events, Nicole and Liam started seeing each other in July 2000, after he'd broken up with Patsy. The book is upfront about a lot of controversial topics, including Nic's sister getting together with her own partner while he still had a girlfriend, and the dust had well and truly settled on Liam and Patsy's relationship by the time it was written. Nicole tells the story of how they got together in a lot of detail, and I can't think of a reason for her to construct such an elaborate lie; I'm inclined to believe her.

According to Nicole, she saw Liam only twice during her stay in France. The first time they didn't talk. The second time they were at a friend's house, and she took him out for a drive on a motorbike.

On their first meeting:

"Liam said hello to Nat [Nic's sister] because he had met her, but he did not look at me once. He stayed away, kept to himself and the people he knew. He was intimidating, impossible to approach. I thought: if he’s not going to talk to me then I’m certainly not going to talk to him."

The next day:

"Dave has six four-wheel motorcycles and Liam wanted to go for a ride. "Take one of the bikes," Dave said. "It’s beautiful up in the mountains." Liam said, "I would, but I can't drive." "I'll take you," I said. Liam climbed on to the bike behind me and we set off up the rocky path. I could tell that he was nervous. For once he was not wearing glasses and a hat and I could see his face. He was cute, very cute in the daytime. Looking back, it was at this point I first felt drawn to Liam. He was shy. He was different, he was something new. The drive took twenty minutes and I swerved and braked and bumped purposely so that Liam had to hold on tight or fall."

Between their France meeting in May 1999 and Liam and Patsy's official split in June 2000, Nicole describes meeting Liam twice more, once in June 1999 and once in October 1999. The second time, she gave him her number and they flirted a little, although he didn't call.

"It had been five months since Cannes and I was frightened I might not see Liam again — I might not get another chance. And then I would never know what his feelings were, if he felt the same way about me. I looked around the room. I needed something to write on. I walked to the bar at the back and found a cardboard box. I ripped off a flap and asked a waitress for a pen. … 'Here's my number," I wrote, 'call me.' It was a big piece of card - the size of a shin pad. As I left, I touched Liam's arm and gave it to him. ‘That’s subtle,’ he whispered, but he was smiling. “Looks like half a tree.’"

Nicole says that about a month after this, in November 1999, her band received an invitation to the first night of Wembley. She attended the gig in July 2000 and this is when she and Liam finally got together. That's an entire story in itself, involving bizarrely performative kissing and some of the lost hours before the infamous second night of Wembley, but I'll save it for another day.

What I'm trying to capture, in broad strokes, is that Liam and Nic just did not have a relationship when Songbird was written. They weren't even really friends. At most, they had a mutual unvoiced attraction based on one real meeting, and didn't get together until a full year later. If Songbird were about pining for or crushing on somebody, I'd think it could be for her. But lyrics like "give her all the love she gives to me" suggest a relationship that's more reciprocal than that. Despite the widespread belief, I'm relatively sure Songbird is not about Nicole.

So. Okay. That's all the actual research I have. From here on out it's speculation. But you all know what I'm going to say. If the song was not about Nicole then... who? Could it be Noel? It's gotta be Noel. I mean. It could be about Patsy. It could be about an affair with someone else. But the lyrics fit Noel too perfectly for me to dismiss it. Noel has always been so effusive with his praise for it, the song has always been special to them both, and it's come up a lot in some of their less explicable fights with each other too. I find it hard to believe it's for anyone else.

But! Even if it's not for Noel, I think it's helpful to know the timeline of when it was written compared to Nicole's account of how her relationship with Liam developed. Because according to that, it seems very unlikely the song was written for her.

[khaoala]

People are talking about how First has always been very generous & kindhearted & saying how a lot of their colleagues talked about it too. Do you know where I can find the clips or interviews? I think I got to know through you how he gave 15k baht to mark & how KT said he is so kindhearted that some of his friends take advantage of him. I am really sucker for fkt praise by colleagues so I really really wanna know

i've gone through some of fk's generous moments in this post as we're always more likely to see them talking about it in response to each other. it's not money related, but we could see a lot of that kind nature from khaotung when they were on safe house together, too.

lookjun is someone who has talked about first especially, bc they worked together in her first series (not me) and later in only friends, and she said during a live she did with pepper that he's cute, kind and annoying, besides being really good at memorizing his lines. lookjun also joked that fk are like a real couple and that first likes teasing her and khaotung just laughs at them.

p'jojo has also talked about first and how he made sand a more dimensional character bc he's a sensitive person. to add to first giving mark 15,000 baht to buy a ipad, we also got khaotung giving him 2,000 baht to add to the total.

there's this live from forever ago, where first is wearing a monkey pajamas, even though it's not of his liking. his mom gave it to him and he didn't want to make her sad by not wearing her gift so every now and then, he said he'd wear it.

i know people really like firstmix, but here i am, on the khaomix trenches. on season 1 of safe house, they eating and mix mentioned wanting to eat crab bc i think they had already finished a portion or maybe they didn't make it that day, and since he was already done eating, he went to the kitchen to make mix some crab to which mix looked actually touched (pond even calls him good boy which is the sweetest). we also got khao teaching earth how to play the guitar in tiny, and in general, safe house season 1 khaotung was the most spoiled, baby girl princess [ 1 2 3 ]. i wish i knew more thai to understand them more. (this season even gave us fk crumbs even though first wasn't in the house. someone praised khaotung bc he made the bed, and first interjected saying he never does that, and khaotung agreed saying he usually sleeps in the couch).

in the same khaomix topic, we also had earthmix talking about first and khao during earthmix space. they talk about how khaotung is a kind and good-heartened person who's always calm, cool and collected who likes spoiling his friends. they also say that first is a nice kid. he's talkative and alert and gets along with people in their first encounter.

not to mention how polite and attentive they are to everyone who meets them, and also how caring they are about their fans (like when telling fans to eat during and after events). and they always talk about being kind to each other and others, too.

but just to contextualize this post, this whole conversation about them being good-natured people all came about bc of gun's picture showing first knelling down to (apparently) buy some flowers from a kid late at night.

and people remembered the story khaotung told about winning in the lottery after buying all of the tickets from a granny who was selling them because he wanted her to go home.

they are just very sweet people.

edit: i'd like to also add this video of khaotung putting food on mae godji's plate when they were on live for grab food 99, since she was busy doing promo and couldn't place it for herself, he just kept making sure she had food too before they ate everything.

[lydilicious]

Salt in the wind (Finnick odair x GN reader)

Childhood sweethearts 😋

The sea breeze always carried something sweet with it—driftwood, salt, and the laughter of children playing barefoot along the shores of District 4. You remembered it like a dream preserved in amber, where the sun shone a little warmer, and a boy named Finnick Odair ran faster than the wind, daring you to chase him.

You and Finnick had grown up next door to each other, your houses separated by a crooked fence and a well-worn path carved by your shared footsteps. He was your best friend—the boy with sea-green eyes, a crooked grin, and an endless thirst for adventure. He would dive into the ocean without a second thought, then return with treasures from the deep, placing them in your hand like offerings.

And you? You followed him. Always.

You'd both been twelve when you realized the air between you had changed. There were longer looks. Shyer smiles. A brush of hands that lingered too long to be innocent. But neither of you said anything. You didn’t need to. You had time.

Until you didn’t.

Finnick’s name was drawn at the Reaping when he was fourteen.

It felt like the world cracked open. You remembered his mother’s scream, the silence that followed, and how the district didn’t quite breathe right afterward. You tried to get to him before he left, but the Peacekeepers kept everyone back. All you saw was his face—set, pale, terrified—and then he was gone.

---

You watched every moment of the Games that year. You cheered when he won, sobbed when he came home. But you never got to speak to him. Finnick became the Capitol’s darling almost overnight, whisked away to their glittering world. And you? You stayed in District 4, threading your days with memories and what-ifs.

People whispered about him.

"Did you see what he wore on Caesar's show last night?"

"I heard he’s being courted by half the Capitol."

"That smile? He knows exactly what he's doing."

You heard it all. You never believed a word of it.

You saw the way he looked into the cameras, the haunted way he held himself when he thought no one was watching. You knew Finnick Odair, the boy who used to sneak you sweets and dared you to dance in the rain. Not the Capitol's pretty toy.

But years passed. Four of them.

You tried to move on, tried to forget. But every wave, every gust of sea wind, carried his name.

Until one morning, a letter arrived.

You'd been working as an apprentice at the district's small beauty parlor, braiding hair and learning makeup techniques from the older stylists. Word had spread about your talent. The letter was gilded, official, and impossible.

A job offer. In the Capitol.

You were to be part of a new team of stylists. They wanted fresh talent. They wanted you.

---

The Capitol was overwhelming. Glass towers, chariots, people with skin like rainbows. But you kept your head down, focused on your work. Your schedule was demanding, and you were constantly surrounded by Capitol elite with gaudy preferences and sharp tongues. You missed the sea. You missed home.

One morning, your supervisor pulled you aside.

"Finnick Odair's original stylist has just retired," she said with a raised brow. "He’s refusing to pick a replacement. The Capitol’s scrambling for someone suitable. And since you’re from District 4... they think it might put him at ease. You're going."

Your breath hitched.

You were too stunned to answer at first, nodding numbly as the assignment sank in. You hadn’t seen Finnick in four years—hadn’t spoken to him since he was reaped. And now, you were going to be alone with him? After everything?

The walk to his suite felt endless. Each hallway was a blur of shimmering lights and sterile glamour. Your palms were damp. You tried to calm your heartbeat, but it thudded like a drumline in your ears. What if he didn’t remember you? What if he’d changed too much—or worse, what if he hadn’t changed at all and the Capitol had broken the boy you once loved?

You paused at the door.

A Capitol aide gave you a rehearsed smile and gestured for you to enter. You hesitated just a second longer, breathing in, grounding yourself.

Then you stepped inside.

---

He was there.

Older, taller, broader—but still Finnick. He turned when you entered, a towel slung over one shoulder, eyes dull and tired. He looked at you—and froze.

His towel slipped from his hand, falling to the floor without notice. His breath caught audibly in his throat, chest rising in a sudden, sharp inhale. He took a slow step forward, then another, like he didn’t trust what he was seeing.

"...It’s you," he whispered, but it wasn’t just a statement—it was disbelief, hope, heartbreak all tangled together.

You said nothing, your voice stuck somewhere between your heart and your lungs.

He reached out as if afraid you might disappear. His fingers hovered just shy of your arm.

"Are you real?" he asked, voice trembling. "I’ve seen you in dreams. I hear your voice sometimes when it’s quiet. I thought—I thought maybe I made you up."

You stepped closer and placed your hand over his.

"I’m here, Finn."

He let out a choked breath, a sound that cracked something deep inside you. Then, in one desperate motion, he pulled you into his arms.

You felt your knees give way.

---

He wouldn’t let you work. Not that day. You sat on the couch instead, knees brushing, hands finally entwined. He told you everything—about the Games, the Capitol, the things they made him do.

There were tears. Rage. Laughter when it got too hard to bear.

"Every night," he said, voice hoarse, "I used to lie in bed and pretend I was home. I’d picture you. Your laugh. Your hair. How you used to chase me down the beach like you actually thought you could catch me."

You smiled through tears.

"I kept thinking, if I can just stay alive long enough… maybe I’ll see you again."

Your breath caught. "Finnick…"

"I loved you, even then," he said. "I didn’t know what it was. I was a stupid kid. But I know now. And I still do."

You reached for him before you could think.

The kiss began slow—almost hesitant—as if the years apart had made you both too fragile to dive in. His lips brushed yours once, then again, softer the second time, trembling with restraint. One of his hands cupped your cheek, thumb stroking gently along your skin like he was memorizing every detail.

Then something in him broke.

The soft kiss deepened into something desperate, a quiet storm of longing and need. He pulled you closer, one hand slipping to the back of your neck, the other splayed against your lower back, anchoring you to him like he couldn’t bear to let go. Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging him even closer as his mouth moved against yours, hot and unrelenting.

You tilted your head to deepen it further, and he groaned into the kiss—a low, guttural sound that sent shivers down your spine. His hands roamed your sides, thumbs caressing your ribs through your clothes, as if trying to convince himself that you were real, that this moment was happening.

When you finally broke apart, it was only to breathe, your foreheads pressed together, lips swollen and breaths mingling.

"I missed you every second," he whispered, voice thick. "I never stopped."

Tears welled in your eyes again, but you were smiling.

"Neither did I."

---

Later that night, the two of you lay in his bed, the Capitol city glowing faintly beyond the curtains. You were tucked against his side, one of his arms cradling you close, the other lazily playing with strands of your hair, letting them fall through his fingers like sea-silk.

Your legs were tangled together under the covers. His bare chest rose and fell beneath your cheek. Every touch was slow, reverent—like neither of you could believe this peace was real.

"You’re not alone anymore," you whispered.

He kissed the top of your head, fingers still combing through your hair. "No. Not anymore."

And for the first time in four years, the boy who once outran the sea finally let himself rest.

[pallyjelly]

Awaking in the Light

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65135287

To Morro, the Merge wasn’t remembered because of the change in landscape. For him, it was the day he lost his wind.

~~~

AKA How Morro became guardian of the Spectral Lands

(Fic below the cut)

Everybody remembered the Merge. For most people, it was confusion and terror as lands crashed together from all around. Families got separated from each other, never to be seen again. Homes were destroyed and everything you knew was flipped up on your head. However, when it came to the Departed Realm, turmoil had already began long ago. It had started after the death of the Preeminent. To Morro, the Merge wasn’t remembered because of the change in landscape. For him, it was the day he lost his wind. 

At the time, the departed and cursed souls were attempting to get along. After all, nothing really mattered what happened during your previous life since everyone was dead now anyway. When the Preeminent had returned from wherever she had disappeared (some saying back to the realm of ninjago), out of her spilled all of the cursed. But it wasn’t just that. As her body decayed, the area surrounding it became inhabitable, anybody getting too close would poof out of existence. 

Morro mostly kept to himself. He didn’t have anybody waiting for him in the Departed Realm anyway (if anything, he might even have enemies through people he wronged during his endeavor to find the tomb of the First Spinjitzu Master). He did what a lot of ghosts ended up doing; renting a place to live in, ignore your neighbors, and give whatever is deemed worthy enough to be considered the cost of your dorming. Luckily, the owner of the small inn had been a departed soul not all too interested in cash or holding favors over your head. What was the point of that anymore? Instead, Morro would just be told to “pay each month, whenever you can”. Sometimes Morro would bring in what he saw as pitiful amounts of chopped lumber from the spiny limbs of decaying trees. Other times, he’d offer his fighting skills, or maybe use a gust of wind to help put up things in previously unreachable places. Paying his debt each month was one of the few things that kept his mind from spiraling into regret over the things he had done. Yes, Sensei Wu had seemed to forgive him of all of his wrongdoings, but that didn’t erase the fact that he did those things, or that it still bothered Morro whenever he looked back at his younger self. 

Another way to keep busy was the idea of creating his own weapon. Morro would whittle away strips of wood until creating a staff-like pole. Next, he had began to drive in stone blades he had sharpened himself into both tips of the weapon. Whenever he wished to, Morro could toss the weapon in the air and watch it spin rapidly through use of his wind powers, akin to some sort of deadly windmill blade. With a smirk and a little bit of pride in his handiwork, the ghost wondered if maybe that could become his new purpose: crafting weapons that only someone imaginative could come up with. You want a blade that could somehow unfold itself to reveal even more sharp edges all while returning to you after thrown? Well, Morro had no idea how to make that, but it would be fun to try. Besides, if it made possible customers happy (or really at this point, just random people he’d give gifts to), then why not? 

This idea quickly was thrown out of his mind when Morro felt his entire room shake, as well as distant screams from outside. The ghost hurried over to one of the walls in order to keep stones and logs from rolling off shelves and onto the ground. Random drawers and everything on top of desks began to tremble, slightly vibrating and moving to drop as well. With a confused sigh of exasperation, Morro watched as things began to fall in groups. His attention had been diverted, leading to him loosening his grip on the material above him and letting them bonk his head before rolling onto the ground. 

Grinding his teeth, Morro grabbed his double edged staff and headed outside with a refrained sprint. Momentarily, his weapon fell to the ground as his widening eyes took in the panicked souls around him. A few were running around, dodging earth and buildings from crashing into them. Others stood unnervingly still, eyes looking up towards something unseen. The chaos surrounding Morro faded into a faint buzzing in his ears as he watched those who stood by smile before they dissolved into a golden light and dissipated. Everything seemed to go in slow motion as the ghost watched people one by one fade away, all within the span of twenty seconds. Pushing himself through what felt like heavy currents, Morro ran up to one of the people staring up at the sky and grabbed her shoulders, trying to shake away the glossy look in her eyes as a small smile began creeping onto her face. Morro’s voice seemed to barely choke out, 

“We need-to get out of here! Something’s wrong with…” The ghost’s words died in his mouth as the figure in front of him shined brightly with white and gold light, before dissolving in his grasp. Morro’s hands trembled as he watched remnants of lights disappear from his palms. The buzzing in his ears started rising into a roar as he slowly turned his head to look around, numbly trying not to topple over as he did so. A few stray spirits waved Morro towards them in his peripheral, shouting something unintelligible to him. Buildings continued falling, bright lights kept bursting from ghosts, and some of the people running even stopped and ended up doing the same. With robotic movements, Morro lifted his left arm up and called for his fallen weapon with his wind. The weapon faltered in the air slightly, wobbling and very slowly making its way into his hand, unlike the usual quick return he would’ve gotten. 

Convincing his legs to slowly start trudging towards the other survivors, a mantra of what’s happening what’s happening what’s happening filled his head. All the ghost could do was watch and attempt to run as more and more spirits began to abruptly stop and look at the sky with sudden calmness. At one point, Morro felt a jolt course through his body before a sense of peacefulness washed over him. The urge to relax all of his limbs and let go of all of the current stress was great as he tilted his head up towards the sky. It looked like there was a golden light calling to him. If he squinted, he could see bright green, living grass in the middle of it, as well as a few ghosts with smiling faces sitting down there. Huh, that would be kind of nice…it could be a break from all of the chaos happening around him. Maybe he could even-

A panicked shout drew Morro’s attention back to the present, as he shook off the strange feeling that had come over him. A cursed soul was trying to pull one of the departed out from underneath a long wooden beam, all while the building beside the two of them began to lean towards the ghosts. Morro grinded his teeth, stretching his hand out to push the wood away with his wind. Only a small breeze released. Come on, come on, those guys need help, Morro begged the wind mentally. Just one more time. Come on, just stick with me one more time. 

With a large push, Morro sent a gust of wind out, tossing the beam and the two ghosts out of the way right before the building collapsed. He quickly ran around the wreckage to see if they were alright. The cursed was supporting the departed with one arm as the two stood up, the latter seeming very disoriented. The first ghost nodded at Morro, offering a quick thanks before beginning to head off in the direction everyone else ran in. Morro felt a worm of guilt inside of him for not knowing who that ghost was. He had probably recognized Morro as his previous general, after all. But here? Morro was reminded once more as the cursed carried the departed away that everybody here was just trying to make the best of the situation they were in. 

Morro was crouched down on the ground, spinning his staff in his hands absentmindedly as he tried to call for his wind. There was nothing. No eager obedience, no taunting evasiveness. Morro could feel nothing. Long ago, this would’ve made the elemental master furious. He would’ve cursed the wind right out in the open where he could feel it whip past him like anybody else. Now, the ghost just felt…sad, to be honest. It was like a friend that had stuck with him his whole life. It had seen it all: his life on the streets, training to be a ninja, becoming a cursed warrior. But maybe that was the point. It wasn’t really fair to keep the wind locked up in death when elemental powers were supposed to be passed on to new people. Morro could only hope it was given to somebody who needed it, like he had. 

But for now, the dead needed him. Out of the hundreds who had been in the departed realm, only a little under twenty had remained, in a place they had now grown accustomed to calling “The Spectral Lands”. The landscape was different; if you strayed too far from the main lands, you could find a physical change in the land. It looked like it abruptly shifted from the departed world into…well, into the living world. A few ghosts said they would venture out into the new lands to figure out what in the world was going on, saying they would come back when they had more information. They never did return…Morro had watched them step outside of the border, safe and sound as they traveled outward. Once the distant blurs of whoever had gone faded from Morro’s vision, sadness would tug at his heart for yet another ghost leaving him. 

It wasn’t necessarily that Morro was in charge, per say. Moreso that most of the ghosts were terrified, departed souls who knew that Morro had leading experience and turned to him for guidance. Who was he to reject that? If he had been in their shoes, he would’ve done the same. So the few remaining survivors began to piece together little hovels to reside in for the time being. There was only one cursed soul left in the group, and it was someone Morro knew all too well. He was the one who had first brought the news of some sort of magical well to the ghost’s attention. 

“It’s the exact same color that the ghosts burst into when it happened,” the Soul Archer explained as he entered through the temporary flap at the door. Morro brought his spinning staff to a halt as he narrowed his eyes. 

“Show me.” 

On top of the highest landmark in The Spectral Lands sat an old-timey well, just as the Soul Archer said there would be. Morro traced his fingers against the stone frame before glancing at his friend in confusion. “No one claims to have built this?”

“Correct,” the Soul Archer nodded dutifully. “And everyone should’ve reported anything they knew to you before they left The Spectral Lands, Morro.” Morro chuckled, looking down at the strange golden liquid that sat at the bottom of the well, only ten feet or so below them. 

“Not everyone is a rule follower, Archer. You need to remember we’re the only cursed left.” With that, both ghosts went silent as Morro grimaced. He hadn’t meant to bring up bad memories. He knew it must’ve been even more difficult for the Soul Archer than himself; he had been closer to Bansha and Ghoultar after all. They had most likely combusted into light like every other cursed soul that was missing. Morro gripped the stones of the well as best he could as he looked to the Soul Archer, an apology on the tip of his tongue.

“Archer, I-”

“I have a theory,” the Soul Archer’s eyes gleamed from behind his mask, despite the fact that the Preeminent wasn’t around to tell him to keep it on. “What if it’s connected to what happened to the others? Someone could try drinking it to see what happens.” 

“No, that’s not a good idea,” Morro pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “We have no idea what that stuff does, and as far as I’m aware, any liquid can kill ghosts. We can’t pass through constantly moving objects, remember?” The ghost glanced back down the well before resolving to pull a bucket of the strange liquid up to where both of them could reach it. 

A low haunting howl rang throughout the air, causing Morro to tense up and look around. The Soul Archer withdrew his bow, surveying the area while straying away from the well. The former grabbed the handle of the bucket tightly, bringing it close to his waist. 

“What was that?” The Soul Archer gave no reply, just kept scanning the area. Morro grimaced, forcing his shoulders to relax. He offered, “Okay, let’s just get back to the others and show them the-” A panicked shout echoed through the chilly air, followed by a few more animalistic howls. The Soul Archer shot a look back at Morro, hissing as he tilted his head, 

“It came from that way.” The cursed warriors ran in the direction of the scream, abandoning the bucket as both readied their weapons. Morro faltered momentarily when he saw the cause of the sounds. An unfamiliar elderly couple were pushed to the ground by some sort of large, four-legged creatures. At the center of the creatures’ faces were star-like flaps that opened up to reveal layers of teeth. It felt eerily similar to the Preeminent. Three of these monstrosities surrounding those ghosts, one of them plunging its teeth into the woman’s skin and making a sucking motion with its mouth, completely unbothered by her screams as it did so. Shaking himself out of his stupor, Morro threw himself towards the creatures with his double edged staff, attempting to strike the side of their faces so as to get them to stop attempting to feed. The elderly man gaped as the Soul Archer released an arrow straight through one of the beasts necks. The creature howled before angrily huffing, turning its attention to the Soul Archer while pawing at the ground. The monster lunged at the ghost, knocking him down and proceeding to lock its teeth into the cursed warrior. Morro’s eyes widened as he watched his friend who had never batted an eye when being splashed by water cried out into the night sky. With a grunt, Morro stopped trying to hit one of the creatures, aiming to now attempt to get the monster off of the Soul Archer.

“You need to help her!” The elderly ghost begged Morro, grabbing his ankle and pointing towards the ghost’s wife. She was still being sucked of her energy, seemingly her life, as the ghost watched in dismay her frame become more and more wrinkled up. 

“Just-I-” Morro glanced between the Soul Archer and the newly departed soul. Shaking his head, Morro continued towards his friend, angrily slamming his weapon across the creature’s back. It let out a guttural roar when one of the blades cut against the spikes etching out of its backside. With new resolve, the ghost swiped his blade again and again across the spikes before the monster let go of the Soul Archer, choosing to flee instead. With a relieved sigh, Morro helped his friend stand up. He immediately realized something was wrong by how easy it was to do so. He was way too light for that…The ghost wanted to ask the Soul Archer what happened when the baying of the monsters brought Morro back to the conflict. 

“Hit the spikes on their backs,” he grunted before choosing to attack the creature which was harming the old man in Morro’s absence. The Soul Archer shot at the nodes on the monster’s back which was hurting the old woman, quickly getting it to turn around and flee. A gasp from the ghost caused Morro to look in the Soul Archer’s direction. In this moment of distraction, the creature in front of him pushed Morro to the ground and drove its teeth into his shoulder. The ghost let out a shocked cry as whatever sensation could be felt in his body was painfully drawn up towards the wound, as if it was being sucked up through some sort of vacuum. His limbs went numb as his skin felt like it was stretching across his face in ways it was never meant to do so. 

Morro let out a sigh of relief when the drawing motion stopped abruptly, the creature practically howling in his ear before being driven off by the Soul Archer. He tilted his head to the side to search for the other two ghosts. The elderly man was on his knees sobbing into his hands, no sign of the woman anywhere. With guilt pooling into his stomach for letting that happened, Morro ignored the cursed ghost who was apparently shaking him, choosing to instead let darkness overtake his vision.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Those were the first words Morro heard when he regained consciousness. His entire body ached, random joints popping slightly as he attempted to push himself up. The ghost was dismayed by how tired and weak he felt, not even able to lift himself out of the blankets and pillow that had been provided for him. Turning all of his energy towards shifting his head instead, the ghost managed to turn his face away from the pillow and towards the blurred objects in the room. Morro squinted his eyes, trying to regain focus of who he knew were his fellow departed. 

“Yes. I can’t live without her.” That voice…Morro didn’t recognize it immediately. Finally able to reach a hand up to his face, the ghost wiped at his eyes before focusing on who was speaking. It was the elderly ghost who had been saved (and who Morro still didn’t understand why he was here in the first place). “I’ll drink it. I don’t care about anything else anymore, so why not?” That was enough to finally allow Morro to push himself up in bed, looking with wide eyes at his ragtag group of departed souls. In the midst of them was that bucket from the well, still filled with the golden liquid. 

“Don’t you dare!” Morro interjected, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and pushing himself up into a standing position, ignoring the light headed feeling he received from doing it so quickly. Everyone looked to him, before the Soul Archer pushed himself in front of the others.

“Morro-”

“Archer, he could die!” 

“I’m already dead!” The old man shouted, getting Morro’s attention immediately. His focus from the man’s face trailed over to his left temple where a large amount of ghostly scarring was. So he didn’t die of natural causes? Realization dawned on Morro as his mouth opened slightly in shock, but he refrained from saying something he might regret. Instead, he allowed the Soul Archer to put a hand on the cursed’s shoulder and say. 

“I think we need to figure out what this stuff is so why understand why The Spectral Lands exist. And now we have someone more than willing to take the risk.” Feeling the fight leave from him, Morro rubbed his face to try to get rid of the phantom pains that stress had been giving him. With furrowed brows, the ghost paused when he brushed against his cheeks, feeling their gaunt structure with confoundment. The cursed general beside him grabbed Morro’s hands and drew them away from his face, pulling his attention back to the situation. “So? Are we gonna try it?”      

With a sigh, Morro nodded his head, feeling his back slump as a bottle was used to carefully draw some of the liquid from its container. The vessel was passed to the martyr, who gave nobody the time to anticipate the effects of the liquid, immediately downing the drink. Morro watched in wonder when the ghost didn’t poof. Instead, he wiped the residue from his lips and glanced at the others, giving a half hearted shrug. The bottle dropped from his hands as he tilted his head upwards, eyes glazing over as a look of calmness spread across his face. Golden rays erupted from his chest before overtaking his entire frame and consuming the ghost. Within twenty seconds, the man was gone. 

Morro sharply inhaled, eyes shifting to the other ghosts to see what they thought. Of course, the Soul Archer was first to speak, “I think they moved on. Like the others.”

“How do we know for sure?” Someone else retorted, glaring at him. The Soul Archer glared right back, crossing his arms.

“Don’t you find it odd that every other liquid makes us disappear in an instant, but this one has other results? That don’t just happen within a second?” 

“Alright listen!” Morro interrupted, standing in between the two ghosts. “Anyone who wants to try drinking to see if they can go to-to whatever comes after this, go right ahead. But we aren’t going to force anybody to.” Murmurs of discontent and agreement collided as the cursed general sighed, grabbing the handle of the bucket and lifting it in the air. 

“So…who’s next?”

“They all smiled after drinking it,” Morro shrugged, leaning against the stone walls of the well and motioning to the liquid below with a wave of his hand. The Soul Archer did not seem so amused by this. “I mean, you said it yourself that they could be passing o-”

“I don’t want to.” The words caused Morro’s thoughts to short circuit for a second before he put on his half smirk with raised eyebrows and chuckled,

“Aaaand, why is that?” The Soul Archer looked out into The Spectral Lands below them, bow tightly gripped in his hands. It was eerily quiet. Not even the soul suckers seemed interested in hunting tonight. Maybe they thought all the ghosts were gone? After all, it was only the two cursed generals left, whether that be because the others drank the liquid gold or the soul suckers got them. 

“I’m not leaving you,” the Soul Archer locked his steely eyes with Morro, already seeming to build walls that the latter would need to break down in order to drink the liquid. 

“Archer…”

“And besides, I don’t deserve it.” The ghost looked back out to the Spectral Lands while Morro’s jaw clenched. He moved in front of the Soul Archer to try to make sure he knew how serious Morro was about this. 

“Listen, not many of the cursed souls did. We were cursed for a reason…but after everything the Preeminent did to us, I think we deserve some sort of consolation for what we went through.” 

“I don’t regret it,” the cursed general snapped, tossing his bow to the ground. Once again, Morro didn’t know quite what to say as his fellow cursed glared at him. “I know what I did was wrong, but I would do it again and again. If she was still around, I would go back with her. That is why I don’t deserve it.”

The bucket hung above the well creaked slightly in the wind as Morro tried to gain confidence through use of feeling his old element pass by him. The ghost withdrew two bottles from his belt, extending one out to the Soul Archer expectantly. Both held the liquid from the well. “Would you do it if both of us went?” 

The cursed soul in front of him pinched his brows, obviously weighing his options. With a sigh, he withdrew his face covering, revealing a ginger haired man that Morro had never seen before. Nice to finally meet you, Morro thought to himself, smiling as the Soul Archer took one of the bottles. 

“Fine…I follow your orders. If that means we go together then so be it.” The two clinked there bottles together before they swigged the drinks down their throats. Or at least, that was what seemed to happen. Morro’s smirk faded into that of a sad smile as he watched the Soul Archer set the bottle down. The cursed soul looked even more confused before looking at Morro’s bottle and going completely still. The cap was still clasped tight on, despite what Morro had mimicked as taking it off. The Soul Archer hadn’t even thought to check, fully believing what his previous general said as to be the truth. Morro sighed, watching his friend’s eyes harden at the realization of the “betrayal”.

“Why did you do that? Why won’t you pass on too?” Morro gave no reply, simply watching the Soul Archer go through the motions he had seen many other ghosts experience. The loosening of tension in the limbs, the dazed look and the golden beams. The only difference was that his friend had not smiled, despite the peace given to him in his final moments in the Spectral Lands. 

Morro reached down and picked up the Soul Archer’s bow, carefully slinging it around his shoulder and letting out a shaky exhale. Tremors shook through his hands, finally free to visibly do so after acting for so long in front of the other ghost. The empty bottle that the ghost picked up almost immediately slipped through his hands.

“You want to know why I won’t move on?” Morro’s voice shook in the lifeless air surrounding him. He withdrew his staff, switching out its blades as the soul suckers’ cries finally entered the night once more. “People will need my help to survive and I’m going to make sure that they pass on, no matter how difficult it is to get them to this well.”

Because ninja never quit.

[jtownraindancer]

Blore & Armstrong Running on The Same Wavelength: A Collection

[kyouka-supremacy]

As a sskk shipper I don't know what it feels like to lose. Always winning

[loveanddeepdick]

nerd!choso who is so unknown at school that people go, “who?” when he’s mentioned. you’re pretty sure that only five people knew who he even was.

nerd!choso who is most definitely the president of some club like chess or dead poets society. he saw you at the club fair and fell in love

he thinks he went to heaven when you approach his table at club rush. yuji, although not in chess, was helping choso recruit people since his poor brother was too shy to talk to anyone. you go up to your friend yuji, making small talk with him.

“i’ve never played chess, yuji”, you giggled

“my brother can teach you!”

you glanced over at choso, not even noticing him at first. he was.. pretty. not pretty as in a way your friends would giggle at you when they saw you in a new outfit, not pretty as in the comments you got under your instagram post, but he was a natural beauty.

yuji had to snap you out of it. of course he noticed though, the way you two looked at each other.

nerd!choso who teaches you how to play chess, not letting the two other members of the small club play with you.

nerd!choso who helps you study, helps you carry textbooks, and helps you with midterms and any exams you have.

nerd!choso who has a nosebleed when you give him a small peck on the cheek when he finally confesses to you after months of pining for you.

you two had been studying in his dorm, comfortable with each other as your head was leaning against his shoulder as you two relished in each other’s presence.

“i like you.”

“oh! i like you t—“

“no. i like you.”

you turn to him. a small smile creeping onto your face. you didn’t say anything, only pressing a short kiss on his cheek. he immediately freezes up, his hands turning clammy and sweaty.

“i—uh..”

then, a trickle of blood comes from his nose, dripping onto his cupid’s bow.

“oh my god, cho!”, you gasped as you jump up, running to grab a tissue from his nightstand where he also kept a picture of you two and a bottle of lotion

you leaned in, wiping his nose attentively. as you chide and nurse him while mumbling, choso can’t help but stare down to take a peep at your tank top. he could see the valley of your boobs and the top of your bra. he choked, letting out a startled gasp before his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

he knocked out cold on the spot

nerd!choso who keeps a special picture of you in his wallet. he’ll be at his chess club meetings, at lectures, out with his family, and he keeps a hand on his wallet, knowing you’re in there.

the picture was a polaroid he took with your camera, your eyes were just out of frame but he could see a portion of your fucked out face, his cum dripping from your mouth and splattered on your cheeks. you were completely naked and sprawled out on his bed in his childhood home

it was almost funny how a hot goddess of a girl was naked, covered in his cum, and sprawled out, pussy on display on his old lego ninjago bedsheets.

nerd!choso who dedicates every single one of his orgasms to you. if you were with him, he’d find a way to cum inside you. in your mouth or your pussy, he’s find a way inside. of course, he’d also opt for cumming on your tits or on your face, he wasn’t greedy. but what he really wants, is to cum inside your cute little ass! he’s too shy to ask, of course, but the day would come eventually

if you weren’t here though, he’d pull up his personal secret album for you, filled photos and videos with shots of under your skirt, through the crack of your bedroom, from your window, when you just walking around with a tank top. he loved it all.

but his favorites were videos you’d allowed him to take while he was fucking you from the back or in missionary. he loved watching them on repeat, never getting bored of them. after a while, he gained the courage to show you as well.

you checked your phone to see a notification from your boyfriend and gasped when you opened it.

it was an image of the picture he kept of you beside his bed, covered in his semen. in the corner of the photo was his hand wrapped around his throbbing cock.

‘i miss you 🖤’