#idc about morality when it comes to him

[batsplat]

casey also talks about sepang 2015 what do you think of that

oh in that podcast? uh... lemme listen again...

yeah idk it's not really anything new I'd say? he's said basically all the same stuff in more interesting and extensive ways elsewhere. I think casey inevitably has a very 'well feuding is bad and helps nobody' point of view, has expressed that before in the past, does it here again, and he's also drawn a parallel between himself and marc on several occasions. which... well, of course there's similarities in terms of public discourse or whatever, but the parallel really falls apart whenever casey argues the feuds cost valentino. like, I do think it's sometimes important to just. keep in mind. it's interesting that casey draws this comparison in his mind but that doesn't necessarily means he's right about this. I'm not sure how you'd argue that starting a feud with casey cost valentino anything competitively? you can argue it didn't help him I guess, and then we can have a debate about the ins and outs of the 2008 season. we can also have an argument that in a hypothetical world where casey isn't ill in 2009, valentino doesn't break his leg and casey isn't on a piece of junk in 2010, and valentino isn't on a piece of junk in 2011-12, then actually maybe valentino sparking open animosity with casey COULD have cost him. but we don't know that! didn't happen! I wish we could have found out, but we never got the chance! as it stands, the tally on this is pretty straightforward: casey won the title when things were reasonably civil between them in 2007, and valentino took control of the following season at the exact moment he worsened the relationship between the pair of them in 2008. obviously, it's all more complicated than that and casey would of course argue laguna didn't negatively affect his subsequent performances... but it certainly didn't help them. like, at the very worst valentino escalating tensions in 2008 is a complete net neutral. after 2009, them being bitchy to each other every other tuesday was completely competitively irrelevant beyond maybe affecting how they approached occasionally fighting for a podium position. hey, maybe casey used that feud to fire himself up through sheer spite throughout the later stages of his career, but that doesn't actually support his anti-feud stance - it's basically the exact same thing as what valentino does. they're both quite similar in that regard! always so hungry to prove a point, to show how someone else is wrong. kinda half the point with this feuding business is to get yourself going, get yourself motivated, yeah. he straight up openly admits to using yamaha's repeat rejection of him as a way of giving himself motivation, and at the end of the day that's really not all that different?

anyway, what else does casey say... oh yeah, that him and the other aliens were already kinda prepared for this and had learned vale's tricks. that valentino had only been able to get into the minds of the previous generation. welllllll *wiggles hand* sure, I mean, he did clearly have to change his approach... he couldn't just use the exact same playbook to get to them, either on-track or off-track. but that's why he did change up the playbook... again, whether you want to believe valentino won his final two titles 'in the head' rather than just through pure pace kinda depends on how you assess the evidence, but it is at the very least a debate. and, y'know, it's always worth remembering that valentino's most important mind games with casey didn't happen in a press conference... it was on the track. and the on-track stuff really is just embedded in how valentino approaches winning. speaking of aliens, this is what dani and jorge have said:

like, valentino's entire approach to his riding, even to the way he's setting his bike up, is deliberately about directly fucking with you... he's not actually always trying to be faster than you as much as he's trying to give himself the tools to make your life miserable, to pressure you into mistakes, etc etc... and again, especially with casey (if anything because he was so mentally sturdy), the off-track stuff was really just window dressing. (I know they bicker a lot after 2009 but it's just so fundamentally irrelevant to actual on-track competition.) so you can be aware of those tricks, but it also doesn't necessarily help you when someone's being nasty to you on-track in a way you just fully do not enjoy. which is what it was like for casey! for casey, a lot of this comes back to the truly unpleasant context of how he was perceived by the public, how he was treated as mentally weak or 'broken' or whatever partly because he had the misfortune of coming up against a bloke who had the reputation for breaking rivals. I think it's quite natural to end up with a bit of a hardliner 'actually I've never been mentally affected by a result in my life' stance - and of course casey is a lot tougher than a lot of people give him credit for. that being said. sometimes your rivals affect you, shit happens, it's part of the game. it's fundamentally a nice idea to think that valentino's tactics weren't just morally wrong but also ineffective, which is kind of the appeal of this narrative, right? you want to believe you're above that, you want to believe you were adequately prepared and wise to valentino's tactic. it's unsurprising and understandable that casey does tend to tell the story that way, but again it's *wiggles hand* also hard to describe it as completely factual

uh. what else. oh I'm thrilled casey does canonically know valentino and marc were friends, he has said he wasn't following motogp too much during that time period so you couldn't be sure of that. does this mean anything? does it tell you anything? well, no, but it's just a pleasing thought to me. I like that. oh also 'provoking particularly aggressive riders isn't a good idea' is kinda a funny take from casey? like, he of all people would hate the idea of being cowed by someone's reputation like that... casey's right that provoking fast riders can potentially be dangerous, but y'know I do think that's probably not news to anyone almost nine years later. um. that's all I've got I think

[silentglassbreak]

hi bestie is it too late to request? you said you liked writing angst, well, i love reading it 💔💔painfully unrequited love!!!!! gimme gimme

friends with benefits with (overly affectionate!!!!) Noah and reader who falls sick to her stomach head over heels in love with him. blurring the lines between sex and love.

going to a bad omens concert however long after and it’s like they’re strangers oOF rip my heart out and stomp on it idc. been listening to Novocaine on a loop all day. i’m not okay

feel to totally disregard if you’re not feeling it angel <33 thank you bby I love your writing 🥺🥺

Angst............. UGH I've been WAITING babes. My goal is to rip your heart out...fair fucking warning. MMMLOVEYOUUUUU. After Writing Notes: I'm the actual worst. I hope you don't hate it!

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: smut, heartbreak, lots and lots of angst

Can You Feel My Heart

Love languages are such a strange concept, aren't they? That seems to be a fairly new idea that someone came up with in the last decade or so?

If you like to buy love...your love language is gifting.

If you can't communicate well...your love language is affection.

If the only way you know how to show feelings is with sex...your love language is intimacy.

At what point are we allowed to call someone out for being a dick? At what point are we allowed to confront the fact that someone is skipping around the idea of commitment, and ask them to just admit what they really want?

This wasn't the first time these thoughts had danced around my head, in the wee hours of the morning, while Noah's arm laid heavy across my waist, him snoozing behind me.

Noah and I had been friends since we were seven years old. We met on the playground at the park in the center of the neighborhood of our small town in West Virginia. He told me he liked my butterfly hair clips, and I let him have the blue one. He wore it in his hair every day for three weeks.

He grew up in a broken home, only his Mom around most of his years, and even then - that relationship was...strained. So many nights he had snuck into my bedroom window, curling up next to me, tears free falling down his cheeks. We never talked about why, but it didn't take a psychic to figure it out.

He moved in with his Grandmother when he was fourteen, and even though he lived in the next town over, he still made it a point to take the city bus to me every day after school, even when he dropped out.

We were never more than twin flames, incapable of existing without each other, moral support for the other during any type of hardship. Looking back, I guess that was what built our serious dependence issues.

"I can't live without you, Y/N. I'll die if I ever lose you."

"No you won't Noah, don't be stupid."

He was stupid. As stupid as they come, because when I turned eighteen, and started college, he had paid one of his friends to drive him all the way up to Columbus to see me. He showed up at the door of my dorm, drunk and broken, blathering on about how only having been away from me for a week had killed him, and he needed to see me.

That was the first night he kissed me, and I let him.

As most people do when having grown up with someone so closely, I had developed an attachment to Noah very early on. I first recognized it when he turned twelve, and started skateboarding. He would insist on trying to teach me how, despite my undeniable clumsiness. His hands would grip my hips, his face so close to my ear, and his chest pressed to my back. He would talk in this deep voice, his puberty hitting early. I was awe-struck.

He was my best friend, sure. But he belonged to me, that's what he always said.

Even when he had girlfriends, I always came first. Dates would get cancelled for me; plans changed. Hell, he even blew off one girl whose birthday fell on the same day as mine. I was his priority. I was his person.

So when he leaned in to me, sitting on the edge of my mattress in the dorm, liquor stained-breath against my face, I just closed my eyes and let it happen.

He spent the night with me, and had to leave early. Vowing to come back, he never broke his word.

There he was the following weekend, sober this time, with snacks, DVDs, and a week’s worth of clothes. I managed to hide him in my room for four days before the dorm advisor caught him.

The second day he was there was the first time we had sex. I was a virgin, and he was not. That hurt me, sure. Not enough to deny him what was rightfully his. I belonged to Noah, body and soul. He took his time, walked me through it, and gave me the best possible experience I could expect. It hurt, and it was weird, but a sense of relief washed over me.

We had finally crossed that threshold. We had sex three times that week, until he was forced to leave.

That's when the words left his mouth.

"We need to talk."

That conversation broke something inside of me. He loved me, but he didn't love me. He was honored to have been allowed to give me something so meaningful, but he could never see me as more than his best friend. Our friendship was too important, and he wouldn't even allow himself to entertain the idea of jeopardizing that. He had made up his mind, and he couldn't have feelings for me.

It was with the heaviest heart imaginable, I sucked back my tears, painted an easy smile on my face, and held his hands in mine.

"I totally understand, Noah. No worries! We can just have fun, you know?"

And that was it. We were stuck in this sick, frozen place for the last two years. I was about to finish my Associates in Columbus, and hoped to become pre-med at Boston U, but Noah didn't know that yet. I could never figure out how to tell him.

Noah Davis was this heavy, bright flame that I was desperately afraid to extinguish. He had formed a band right after our arrangement began, and he was twenty-four hours away from leaving on their first major tour that would take him around the entire country, and then across the Atlantic to Europe.

How could I tell him that while he was gone, I was likely moving even further, and starting my life without him?

I didn't want to live without him, but he was leaving, and I couldn't sit and wait forever...

I breathed out a sigh, the light beginning to stream in the window of my one-bedroom apartment. He needed to wake up, drive home, and make sure he was ready to leave tomorrow. It was only 6AM, so I knew he'd be cranky, but I couldn't put this off any longer.

“Noah?” I breathed out his name. He groaned in response. “You’ve got to get up. You have to get ready to head home.”

"Mm, ten more minutes." I rolled my eyes, and began sliding out from underneath him.

His arm locked, and held me in place. I giggled, and saw as he turned his face, one eye cracking open. "Don't get up. It's too early."

I narrowed my eyes. "I have class at 8AM."

Noah used his strength against me, pulling my body to him and holding me tight so I couldn't get up. This only made me laugh louder.

"You don't need to get up for another hour."

"Not if I want to shower."

He sighed into the pillow. "So crazy, cause I don't think you do."

I rolled my eyes. "Dude, you've got to get home. Nick will kill us both if you're not ready in time."

"I'm not scared of her." He smirked, and I smacked his arm.

"Shut up. And get off me!"

He stuck his bottom lip out, pouting heavily.

"Not going to work. C'mon." I wriggled hard enough to break his grip, and sat up, stretching my arms over my head. He sat up as well, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

I pulled a robe over myself, turning to look at him as he scrolled through his phone, checking messages.

"Coffee?" I asked, and he threw a thumbs up at me.

I left the room, headed for the kitchen, trying to keep my breathing even. I had very little time left.

Filling the pot with water, I felt his arms wrap around me from behind, his face burying in my neck.

"I don't want to go. I'm going to miss you so much."

I leaned into the touch, taking anything I could at this point. "I know. I'll miss you more."

He scoffed. "Not a chance."

Holding me for a few more moments, he let go to head to the fridge, pulling out the bagels and cream cheese, and plopping down at the dining table. I continued my work of preparing our coffee.

"Hey, uh," I started, keeping my voice as calm as I could. "there's something I wanted to chat with you about."

I turned around, two hot mugs in my hand. He was spreading the cream on a bagel, already having prepared one for me. I sat next to him at the table.

"What's up?" He didn't look up at me.

"I told you I had been trying to decide where to start medical school?" He just nodded in response. "Well, I find out today if I got into Boston."

He halted, his eyes snapping up to me. "Boston?"

I took a sip of coffee. "They've got the best med program on the East coast-"

He cut me off. "Since when were you looking on the East coast?"

His tone was darkening. This was going to go about as well as I expected.

"Since I realized I had a chance. Noah, my GPA and scholar program gives me a real shot."

He grit his teeth, setting his bagel down. "Boston is far, Y/N."

I kept calm, setting my mug down as well. "I know."

"So, why would you want to be so far away?"

"Well, you're going far too, Noah. Your first show is in San Diego."

He sat back in his chair. "Yeah, but the last one puts me right back here in Columbus for a month before I go overseas."

I nodded. "I know. I'll still be here, then. You get back six weeks before the end of the semester."

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You can't go to Boston."

There was a finality to his tone, and something about it made my insides flinch with irritation.

"Oh no? And if I do?"

"You can't."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Can't? And since when do you tell me what I can and can't do?"

He rolled his eyes, standing from the table and walking over to the trash, binning the half of his bagel he didn't eat. "We can't be that far away from each other."

Lifting my eyebrows, I stood as well, crossing my arms. "And why is that, Noah?"

He leaned back against the counter. "Y/N, you know why."

"What? So you have someone to fuck whenever you want? Whenever one of your little groupies isn't around?"

His eyes popped open, then. "What?"

"You heard me." My tone was deadly, matching my stare at him.

"You really think the only reason I want you close is because of the sex?" He seemed truly stunned.

"Well, why else would you want me around?" I threw my hands up, walking back down the hallway toward my bedroom. I could hear his footfall behind me. I just continued, stepping into the closet to get dressed.

"What is that supposed to mean? I always want you around."

Rolling my eyes, I clasped my bra on and popped my head out to look at him. "Noah, I'm convenient for you. Unless you have any other valid reasons to keep coming over, I don't know why else it matters."

His jaw dropped open. "That is not true."

Pulling my shirt on, I scoffed. "Please, dude. Spare me the act, okay?"

"What act?"

I pulled my jeans on, buttoning them before stepping out to face him again. "The 'you're my person, and I can't lose you' act." I quoted myself. Something about that pissed him off, because he crossed his own arms and stared me down.

"The fuck are you getting at, Y/N?"

I shook my head, brushing past him, and walked toward the bathroom.

"Noah," I turned to look directly at him. "we've been at this for years. It's kind of old, don't you think?"

His face softened slightly. "We had an agreement."

I nodded. "You're right, we did. Just sex, for the sake of our friendship. That's what you wanted."

"I thought that's what we wanted."

Waving a hand between us, I took a step toward him. "Oh no, Noah. That's what you wanted. Not me."

He was silent, then.

"I wanted more. I always have. I thought that had become clear over the years, but I fucking guess not." I could hear my voice raising a few octaves. "You didn't give me a choice. You came in, broke that boundary, and then put it right back up again. And I stayed, just so I wouldn't lose you."

I could feel the tears beginning to well in my eyes.

His voice came out small, then, his hands now buried in his pockets.

"What do you want from me, Y/N?"

I sighed, letting one tear escape. "I want you to love me."

He pulled his hands out, stepping toward me and taking one of mine. I let him.

"I do love you!"

I stared at him, my teeth ground together. "Do you? The way I love you?"

Noah was a lot of things. He was brilliant, funny, generous, dedicated. He had the most redeeming qualities of anyone I knew.

And sure, he could be stupid. But not that stupid.

He had known how I felt about him. Of course he did. That was why I kissed him every chance I got. Why I always let him in. Why I never dated anyone else. Why I stayed all this time.

But here? In this moment? He was the biggest idiot I knew, because he dropped my hand, his eyes falling with it, and took a step backward.

"I..." He huffed out a breath, looking back up at my tear-stained face. "I can't. I'm sorry."

I averted my eyes, then. I could feel myself breaking, crumbling right before him.

"You need to leave, Noah."

I could feel he wanted to pull back to me, like a moon in orbit of a planet. Gravity. But he didn't. He just stepped back toward the doorway.

"What does this mean?" I heard his voice, but wouldn't meet his eyes.

I sniffed hard, trying like hell to keep myself upright.

"It means you go on tour. Be who you are, Noah. And I'll be who I am. Without each other."

His body shifted, but I was stone, unmoving.

"I can't lose you." I heard him let out a light, sarcastic laugh. "I'll die."

I let myself laugh at that.

"No you won't, Noah. Don't be stupid."

7 Years Later

Residency is going to kill me. I may actually die in pursuit of this God awful career I've chosen. I was three years in to a five year program, intending to finish in General Practice, but until that time, I was just an idiotic twenty-seven year-old with no life, no sleep, and no clean fucking clothes to wear.

Every resident gets exactly forty-eight hours of paid time off every three months, and I had not taken mine in over a year. I finally had taken all of my hours - six days total - off of work, and after spending the entire first day sleeping, I was due to meet with Raylene in an hour.

Ray and I met at the beginning of residency, and quickly gotten close. We managed to find an affordable apartment together within walking distance of the hospital, and spent any rare free time we had together. She was currently at her boyfriend's place, spending some much needed time with him, before we went out for the evening.

I was digging through my unfolded laundry, trying to find something not too wrinkled or stained to wear tonight. Ray had told me we were going to a concert for a band she had recently discovered, but she didn't tell me who it was. I didn't care, to be honest. Existing somewhere other than the Emergency Room or my own bed sounded heavenly.

Finally settling on a deep red cropped t-shirt, black skinny jeans, and the Vans I rarely got to wear, I straightened my hair and applied what little makeup I could. I set out of the building to the waiting vehicle downstairs, Ray practically hanging from the passenger window.

"You look so fine!"

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Sure. Like I might've slept in the last two weeks?"

She chortled back at me, leaning in her seat once I was in the car. I waved hello to her boyfriend Sean, and gazed at Ray.

"So, Tyler isn't coming."

She frowned at me. "Why not?"

I shrugged. "Said he had a case he was working on, and he really couldn't spare the time."

She rolled her eyes. "Typical lawyer. Too busy for anyone but his clients."

Tyler and I had been dating for about six months now. Maintaining a relationship while having jobs as busy as ours was difficult, but he somehow managed to work it out. He would pop in when he knew I had breaks to bring me food, or have me spend nights off at his place, massaging my neck and helping me get caught up on my favorite series. He was an honest man. A good man.

I liked him.

Right?

It's so hard to tell what's like and what's convenient when you live your life exhausted and overworked, so I didn't have a lot of time to question it.

"Bummer for him. I'm so excited to see this show!" Ray was beaming in the front seat.

"Yeah, who are we seeing, anyway?"

"A band called ERRA. They're opening for a bigger headliner, who I've heard are pretty good too."

I nodded. "I've never heard them."

"It's rock. Metal, really." Sean chimed in, and I acknowledged him silently, looking out of the window.

My mind zoned out while we drove to the House of Blues. Ray and Sean chatted idly up front, but I was just enjoying the fact that I was finally out of the house for once.

That is, until we walked into the venue. The banner poster stared at me, the photographs of the band mocking me...

Bad Omens...they were the headliner.

Memories flooded back to my brain, my insides clenching at the visions.

I hadn't spoken to him since that day...that last day in my apartment. When he left, and never looked back. I didn't even keep in touch with the rest of the guys, for fear that I would be sucked back into the maelstrom that was Noah Davis...

“Y/N?” I turned to see Ray stood behind me, noticing my reaction. “You okay?”

My mind wasn’t comprehending what I was seeing. There’s no way that was them? The last time I had heard of the band, they were one-of-four supporting bands on much larger headliners. Now, they were selling out tickets at their own tour? Seven years was a long time…but how had they gotten this popular?

I wondered this, as if I didn’t know how wildly talented those boys were. Aside from Noah, Nicky, Jolly, and Nick Folio were some of the most intelligent and creative minds I had known. They all brought something special to that band, but I would have never expected this.

Huh. Guess he could live without me after all?

Something bitter crept into the back of my throat, but I swallowed it down, staring at his photograph on the poster.

“Yeah,” I tore my eyes away for a second to look at Raylene. “sorry, I’m fine. Just didn’t realize Bad Omens was the headliner.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve heard of them?”

I pulled my lips to the side. Did I want to tell her?

“Long time ago.”

I couldn’t get past how different he looked in the picture. Last time I saw Noah, his hair was halfway down his back, he was skinny, and he had the thinnest little mustache growing on his upper lip.

In these promo pictures, however, his hair was short, not even reaching his ears, he looked much more muscular, and he had no facial hair. He also had many more tattoos than I remembered. That wasn’t surprising. Noah was a tattoo addict from a very young age.

Jolly had let his hair grow and had the cutest goatee on his chin. Nicky looked almost exactly the same. And Nick, bless his heart, had grown into such a handsome guy. They all looked so grown, so serious and broody. It almost made me giggle, knowing how goofy these guys were in real life.

Noah looked the most stunningly different from the rest. Not only did his entire appearance change, but his eyes…something in them was just so much darker. That harsh flame I had once known was so dim. It almost hurt to see. Almost.

We were making our way out to the pit of the GA floor. I had decided to get myself a cocktail to take the edge off. I didn't plan to come face-to-face with him, and likely wouldn't even get the opportunity to get a good look at him period, but still...just knowing we were in the same room made my throat tighten. I washed it down with Vodka and cranberry juice, hoping the warmth of the liquor would unfreeze my nerves.

The first band, Invent Animate, was entertaining enough. Very interactive with the crowd and high-energy. I found it pleasant, but couldn't get myself to focus long enough to notice what they were singing about. I struggled to breathe, the set ending, and knowing I was one hour closer to seeing his face.

During the intermission, Ray excused herself to the restroom, and I stood with Sean, feeling dizzier as the moments passed.

"Hey, I think I'm going to step out for a second. Get some air."

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "You okay? Want me to come with?"

I shook my head. "Nah, don't want you to miss the band you guys came to see. I'll be back."

He nodded, patting me on the shoulder before I weaved in and out of the crowd. I discarded my plastic cup in a trash can before exiting out into the main lobby. I found a spot on the wall near the doors that was unoccupied, and leaned against it, letting my eyes close and my breathing even out.

When I opened my eyes, I searched the room, looking for nothing specific. I landed on the merch tables, and saw someone oddly familiar talking to the lead singer of the last band we had watched...

The liquid courage is what carried me in that direction, smiling to myself.

He stood with his hair pulled back, as usual, and was talking with his hands. Same as he always did.

"Nicky Ruffilo..." I said loud enough to hopefully catch his attention, my hands now grasping the edge of the table.

His head snapped over to look at me, his brows knit together curiously. I could tell he was putting it together.

"No fucking way..." His voice sounded the same as it always had. "Y/N?!"

My teeth flashed at him, and he circled the table to approach me, his arms pulling me into a tight hug.

"Jesus Christ, I didn't recognize you!" That was fair.

Since the last time I had seen any of the guys, I had bleached my hair a pale blonde, lost twenty-five pounds, and had grown two cup sizes. I was, for all intents and purposes, an entirely different person.

"Yeah, well I absolutely recognized you." I said as I gripped his shirt, squeezing him tight.

"How long has it been?" He asked, pulling back to look at me.

"Uh," I thought for a moment. "seven-ish years?"

Nick's eyes were in disbelief, an amazed leer on his face. "God damn, girl. I can't believe it."

I pointed to the banner above his head. "Headlining now, huh? That's amazing!"

He smiled, proudly. "Yeah, we've worked really hard. A lot's changed."

My eyes fell on Noah's face on the poster. "I can see that."

I could tell he was pondering, a question hanging on the edge of his tongue. It was the most obvious question, so I answered for him.

"He doesn't know I'm here."

He nodded, leaning an arm on the table comfortably. "Ah, okay. You didn't want him to?"

I snorted. "I didn't even know I'd be here. My friends came to see ERRA, and that's when I realized you guys were here."

"Makes sense." He had crossed his arms. "Do you want him to know?"

Contemplating this, I let my face fall to get away from his gaze. I wasn't certain how to answer that, but it seemed like the answer was clear regardless.

"No." I sighed hard. "It's probably for the best that he doesn't, right?"

I couldn't read Nick's face, if he was disappointed or relieved. He seemed to be pretty satisfied with my answer, but I could tell he had more he wished he could say.

"Fair enough." Was all he gave me, before letting out a breath. "So, you still live up here?"

I let my muscles relax for a second. "Yeah, doing a residency at Brigham right now."

"Residency? Does that mean you're a doctor?" He asked, clearly confused.

I cackled at this. "Yeah, full blown doctor. Got the little 'MD' after my name and everything."

He beamed at me. "That's so great! Congratulations!"

"Thank you, Nicky." It fell quiet between us once again, and I could hear ERRA's set beginning. "Well, I should probably-"

He spoke over me. "Yeah! Those guys put on a great show. Don't miss it!"

I gave him another hug, reveling in how warm he still felt.

Turning to walk away, I stopped, needing one last thing...

"Nick?"

His face turned back to me.

"How is he?"

I could see the sadness fall over his tan features, and I instantly regretted asking.

"He's..." He trailed off, taking in a large breath. "He's different, Y/N. I doubt you'd recognize him."

"How so?"

Something about my question almost seemed to annoy him. Odd?

"Like I said, a lot has changed. He's changed. He had to." He gestured to me. "Same way you did."

I accepted this, not wanting to press any further. "Thanks, Nick."

He pointed a finger at me. "Hey, we're going to be back here in the fall for a couple days. Don't be a stranger, okay?" I grinned at this. "I know Jolly and Folio would kill to see you."

I just nodded, turning and walking away. My eyes met with Ray's, who was standing, watching my interaction. How much had she seen? Did she hear anything?

"Hey, what are you doing? You're missing ERRA!"

Her brows were pulled up suspiciously. "Who was that?" She pointed after Nick, who had now disappeared from the merch table.

I shook my head. "Oh, that guy? He's the bassist in the headliner band."

This wasn't good enough for her, I could tell by the way she pursed her lips. "Uh-huh. And...you just decided to chat him up like old friends?"

I groaned. "Ugh, how long were you standing there?"

She put all her weight on one hip. "Long enough to see you two talking like you've known each other before. Care to explain?"

Raylene was so nosey. She came by it honestly, her father being a police detective. But still, why did this matter?

"It's not a big deal, Ray. I'll tell you later."

I pulled on her arm, trying to lead her back to the concert hall, but she stood firm, eyeing me. I sucked my teeth in frustration.

"Damn it, alright, come here."

She followed me to the doors leading outside, and we stepped into the cool air.

"Alright, look, I've known Nick since I was ten."

Her eyes jumped. "Oh? Back in West Virginia?"

I nodded. "Exactly. I had no idea their band was going to be here."

"Do you know anyone else in the band?"

I glanced around, feeling wildly uncomfortable by the conversation.

"I may know the entire band."

Her eyes exploded, nearly shooting out of her face cartoonistically.

"What?! The whole band?" I just nodded. "Jesus, Y/N. That's insane!"

I giggled. "I guess. It's just a coincidence."

She smiled at me. "Well that's awesome! Do you want to see the rest of them after? They're doing a free merch signing."

Panic filled my chest, and I put a hand out to grab her shoulder. "No, no. I don't, uh..." I tried to keep my voice solid. "I don't keep in touch with them anymore."

Her eyes narrowed. "Oh? Okay, if you're sure." Something in my voice must have made her feel my anxiety.

We turned, ready to make our way back inside.

"It is too bad. The lead singer's a real looker. I heard one of the girls in the crowd say his name was Noah Sebastian? He's pretty cute."

I almost walked straight into the door, my foot banging off of the pillar. Ray turned around to see me, and something about the look on my face made realization flash over her.

"Oh my God, are you ok-" She stopped dead, eyes widening again. "Wait..."

"Ray, don't." I knew what she had figured out.

"Noah..." I put my hands up, glancing around to ensure no one was looking at us. "As in...Noah? Your old best friend?!"

I shushed her harshly. "Please, Ray. I don't want to think about this."

"That's the guy?! Noah Sebastian is the guy that broke your heart?!"

I was going to actually vomit at that.

"Fuck! Can we not?!" I raised my voice, which made her snap her mouth closed. "Besides, I don't know a Noah Sebastian."

She looked confused. "Is that not his real name?"

I rolled my eyes, turning to walk back in. "It's his middle name."

I spaced out most of what was left of ERRA's set, just trying to put the pieces back together in my brain. This night had not turned into what I had hoped.

I just wanted one night, an easy night, to take a deep breath away from my hectic life. Instead, I was reliving some of my most painful memories, and had a headache to go right along with it from the alcohol. My chest vibrated, the bass just making it so much more difficult to focus.

I stood off of the GA floor, near the bar area, not even realizing the band had finished, and people were swarming to grab drinks and use the restrooms before the men of the evening appeared. Ray approached me, another Vodka cran in her hand, and pushed it into mine.

"Here my love, drink this." I took a long gulp of it. "Do you want us to go? We don't have to stay..."

My eyes were fixed on the stage, where I could see people setting up the equipment. "No." I huffed out a breath, and squeezed my cup. "No, I want to see them play, I think."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're sure? This can't be easy for you."

My eyes burned into her face, which almost made her flinch. "I may never get to see him again, Ray. I have to."

She just nodded, arm linking with mine. "You want to watch from up here?"

I nodded, crunching on a piece of ice from my drink. "No chance of him spotting me back here."

She affirmed my request, and leaned back against the wall with me.

I felt my phone vibrate, and I pulled it from my pocket to see Tyler's name on the screen.

Tyler: Hey beautiful! How's the show?

I held my breath. What kind of a question was that?

Me: Fine. Almost over, just one band left.

He didn't take but a minute to respond.

Tyler: Having fun?

Ha, what a joke.

Me: Yeah. I've had some drinks, so it's helping.

Tyler: Well, enjoy it baby! You deserve it.

That wasn't fair. None of it was. Having to see Noah? The fact that I had an amazing guy, who genuinely liked me, who waited for me. But I still couldn't get my mind off of that irritatingly beautiful face about to take the stage.

The lights went down, and I felt myself tense, throwing back the rest of my drink. My teeth were numb, if that made any sense at all. Ray's hand gripped mine tight, holding me up.

A cinematic scene played on the screens, but I wasn't watching, eyes hastily searching the stage.

A tall man, who I instantly recognized as Jolly, stepped center-stage, a guitar in his hand playing the opening riff to the song. It was heavy, deep and soul shaking.

Folio came out next, his face, like Jolly's, covered in a black ski mask.

Nick took his spot, playing his bass tones.

And then, as the opening crescendoed, a voice rang through the speakers.

A voice I'd never forget.

"Can you hear me through the white noise?"

He blasted onto the stage, glory and all, face covered and thick black jacket on his shoulders.

He sounded different. Angry. Raw, Aggressive. The feeling that sank in my stomach pulled me back further against the wall.

The song played through, his words pulsing through my veins.

As quick as it had started, it was over, and we were on to the next.

The next track was calmer, red lights glowing all throughout the stage.

They had all removed their masks, and I saw his face for the first time. He looked so much older, making it difficult for me to believe he was the same person.

The words of the song resonated deep in my thoughts.

"I don't want to know all your secrets, cause I'll tell. It's hard enough being alone with myself. I don't know how long I'll be holding on..."

Breathing deeply, I watched as the crowd moved with the music, electrifying the energy in the room. It was intoxicating.

Noah had changed...

The set played on without hitch, the entire time I caught myself holding in breaths until I felt my lungs nearly bursting. I couldn't take my eyes off of him, feeling the familiar ache beginning to creep back in.

The music stopped, and a bunch of lights came up. By this time, Noah had discarded his jacket, button-up, and only stood in a black tank top, hands wrapped in what looked like boxing wraps?

"Alright, Boston, how we feeling?" His speaking voice even sounded different...

The crowd erupted.

"We are Bad Omens, and we sincerely appreciate you all being here tonight. The next song we are going to play for you all has been the biggest turning point this band has ever seen." I heard the screams, and did my best to tune them out so I could hear his words. "Is anyone familiar with a song called Just Pretend?"

The room rocked with the cheers and chants of the crowd.

"That volume that I just heard? That's the volume I want to hear you sing this with me, okay? Don't worry about trying to hit the perfect note or get all of the words right. It's about us all, being here together tonight."

The music played softly behind him when his lips reached the microphone.

"I can wait for you at the bottom. I can stay away if you want me to. I can wait for years if I gotta. Heaven knows I ain't getting over you..."

My heart twisted in my chest.

"I'm not afraid, of the war you've come to wage against my sins. I'm not okay, but I can try my best to just pretend. So will you wait me out? Or will you drown me out?"

The tears pooled in my eyes. No fucking way. The song played on, mocking me with the lyrics.

"I know the pain that you hide behind the smile on your face. And not a day goes by where I don't think I feel the same."

"We'll try again, when we're not so different. We will make amends, till then I'll just pretend."

My hands came up to cover my face, my lip trembling hard.

"Weigh down on me. Stay till morning. Way down. Would you say I'm worthy?"

I choked on a sob, my legs pushing me forward, and I ran out of the room. I felt my stomach lurching, my mouth clamping closed as I ran toward the bathroom.

I heard Ray chasing behind me. "Y/N! Wait!"

Flying into the bathroom and finding the first open stall, I fell to my knees, emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet. My hands gripped my hair, tears falling hard down my face.

"Oh God, babe." Ray reached to grab my hair from me as I wretched all of the Vodka out of my stomach, my heart and soul pouring out with it.

When I finished, I let my chest heave with sobs, my hand covering my eyes in ebarrassment.

"Fuck, Ray." I said as I wiped my face with the tissue she handed me. "I've got to get the hell out of here."

She nodded. "Okay, my love. Let's do that."

After a solid twenty minutes of cleaning myself up in the bathroom, we stepped out, noticing the crowd now formed outside, waiting at the table for the band to come out for the signing. Ray was frantically dialing Sean, trying to find him among the sea of people. I just plopped myself down on the floor near the restroom, trying to relax as best as I could.

"Y/N?" I looked up at her. "I have to go find Sean. He isn't answering. Can you wait here for me?"

I just nodded, defeated. She was gone, lost within the abyss of people, and I sat, waiting, head in my hands.

I was pulled out of my stupor by the sound of cheering. The band had come out, all waving and smiling. I didn't even bother chancing a glance at him, for fear I may vomit again.

Ray had not come back yet, despite the four or five texts I had now sent her. I had been waiting for a solid thirty minutes, people watching the line and avoiding seeing his face. The ropes of the line were blocking my view of the faces sitting at the table.

After another fifteen, Ray finally bounded up to me, out of breath, Sean in tow.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry! That crowd is vicious!"

I stood slowly, the room only slightly spinning. I swallowed the dry, disgusting feeling in my throat, and began moving toward the exits that were now mostly clear.

"Let's go." She nodded at me, and took my arm. We had to wait behind several people trying to all get through the same revolving door. My skin felt spiky and cold.

"Hang on! Wait!"

A voice behind me made ice run through my veins, and I closed my eyes, begging whatever God existed to spare me in this moment.

A hand gripped my shoulder, and I tensed, turning my face, and my eyes looked straight at him.

He had spotted me, running from his table to catch me. He had to have been pretty damn sure it was me to chase after me like that. Fans began to crowd us, camera phones coming out, pictures snapping.

The look on his face was much less certain than I expected, as if he possibly made a mistake.

"I'm sorry..." His voice was unsteady. "Do I," He cleared his throat, eyes bouncing back and forth between my own. "know you?"

My eyebrows shot up. He really didn't recognize me?

He thought he did, but now...

"No. I don't think so." I spit out my words, teeth grinding together. It felt exactly the same as the last time I had seen him.

He dropped his hand, eyes still transfixed on mine. "I swore..."

I just turned my body, pressing my way past the gathered crowd, not giving him the chance to think it through.

In the car, I stared out the back window, arms wrapped around myself.

"What did he say, honey?" Ray's voice was so gentle.

"He didn't recognize me. He thought he did, but once he got up close, I guess I look too different." My words were only a peg above a whisper.

"You going to be okay? I don't have to stay at Sean's."

I just wiped the stray tear off of my cheek. "It's fine. I'd rather be alone."

-

A long, scalding shower, two handfuls of shredded cheese, and a solid half-hour crying session later, I was laid catatonically on my bed, eyes staring at the screen as Grey's Anatomy flashed across my screen.

I had blanked my mind out, forcing myself to let the thoughts go for the night. I was too tired and broken to let my heart hurt like this again. It took a solid year to get over Noah enough that I was able to function again. My first year of med school was disappointing, and I didn't make any friends until I made it into the second year. It took me nearly three to start dating.

I couldn't do that again.

I had been ignoring the texts going off on my phone, assuming it was Ray just checking on me for the thousandth time. I did, however, decide to take a look when I heard my ringtone going off.

Who would be calling me at 2AM?

I didn't even bother checking the screen before I put the phone up to my ear, my voice hoarse from crying.

"Hello?"

"What are the odds that you haven't changed your number after all this time?"

I sat bolt upright, my voice catching in my throat. The voice on the other end sounded nearly as wrecked as mine.

"Noah?" It barely came out.

"It's been a long time."

I cleared the newly formed phlegm out of my throat. "It has."

"I knew that was you." It sounded deadly quiet in the background of his end of the line. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming tonight?"

I sighed. "Nick told you?"

"He might've."

I groaned. "Well, I asked him not to."

"Why?"

I scoffed. "What do you mean, why?" I rubbed my eyes. "We're not exactly speaking anymore, Noah."

He hummed. "That's true."

I chewed on my lip, not having any kind of clue of what to say.

"What did you think?"

"Of the show?"

"Mhm."

I sighed. "It was good. Different than what I would have expected."

A soft laugh came through the line. "How so?"

I smiled at that. "It's just a lot different than what I expected your music to sound like."

"In a bad way?"

"No. Not at all."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." His voice was so serious. So monotone. Nothing at all like what I remembered.

The line fell silent again, and I found this irritating. What was he playing at?

"Why did you call, Noah?"

I heard a breath on the other end, and some rustling. "I don't know."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have."

"Maybe. I wanted to hear your voice."

My stomach tightened. "Now you have. I should go."

"Wait..." I held the phone firm, waiting. "I want to see you."

My heart pounded. "What?"

"I need to see you." His words were so matter-of-fact.

"I don't think so, Noah. That's not a great idea."

"It's not, but I'm asking..." He sounded so small. "Can I please see you?"

I perused the idea. "When?"

"Now?"

I scrunched up my face, sitting up again. "Now? It's after two in the morning."

"I don't care. I'll come to wherever you are."

This struck me. Maybe he hadn't changed?

"I, uh," I struggled to speak. "Noah, I don't know. I'm at home, it's late. I should be sleeping."

"Y/N?" I stopped, listening. "Please?"

I am a weak woman, and that is just plain fact. I was frantically running throughout the apartment, attempting to tidy any kind of mess I could get my hands on. Ray and I hadn't taken the time to really clean in months, so it was stressing me out. My pajama pants were hanging low on my hips, and I swam in my large sweatshirt.

My hair was falling loose around my face, and I was sure my eyes were puffy from the crying I had done. How insane was I? Had I completely lost it?

It was almost 3AM when a knock came at my apartment door, and I froze in place. What was I doing? Why was I allowing this to happen? I didn't need to do this to myself.

I was fine, living in my normal, tired bubble. I was headed towards a successful career that would take me further than I ever imagined. Why was I allowing this trainwreck of a friendship back into my life? What was I thinking?!

I wasn't. That was the answer to that question.

I opened the door, not sure what to expect on the other side. He stood, still as tall as I remembered, looming in the doorway. He wore a black hoodie, hands tucked neatly in the pocket. Dark blue jeans and black Converse. A white beanie covering his hair.

Like this, he looked almost recognizable. Except for his eyes...

Just like in the photograph I had seen earlier, his eyes were so dark. There was very little life behind them. Deep blue circles hung under the rims, making a pull in my chest show itself.

I just stood, blocking the doorway, hand white-knuckling the frame.

"Hi." Was all he managed. He was staring at me, eyes moving up and down my face as if he was seeing an apparition.

"Hi." I echoed, trying to not feel out of place under his stare.

"I'm glad you agreed to see me." He didn't move an inch, his jaw ticking closed with his last work.

I just nodded, letting out all of my air. "Yeah, well, you were insistent."

He nodded, finally looking away from me and down at the ground.

"I had to."

I pursed my lips, narrowing my eyes. "Did you?" He raised a brow at me. "Did you just have to see me? Because I think we probably would've been alright without it."

I could see his face fall, hurt by what I said, but I didn't care. He never did.

"I'm sorry. I know it's selfish."

"Mm," I pinched my lips together, and opened my door wider. "come in."

I stalked back into the house, not daring to look back at him. I heard the door shut behind me, and I steadied myself, expecting to turn around and see him vanished.

To my chagrin, he was still there.

Deciding not to stagnate, I walked into the kitchen, pulling a bottle of tea from the fridge, and walking back out to the living area. He hadn't moved, and was still staring at me.

"So." I motioned to him. "What can I do for you?"

Noah was so statuesque, as if carved right out of stone. "I don't really know."

My face lifted, a smirk on my lips. "You don't know? Noah," I placed a hand on my hip. "you show up here at 3AM, and you have no idea why?"

He shrugged, eyes begging me for mercy. "I'm sorry. I don't."

"Can you stop apologizing and just tell me why you're here?!" My patience snapped, startling even me.

This took him back, but instead of tucking tail and backing away, he stood straighter, face hardening.

"I can't tell you why I'm here if I don't know, alright?" His words were stern.

"Well you must have some kind of reason? Because this feels wildly unnecessary."

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "It is? So you didn't want to see me?"

I set my tea on the coffee table and stood nonchalantly. "Not really."

He narrowed his eyes. "I don't buy it." He took a step toward me, but I stood firm. "If you didn't you wouldn't have stayed, tonight. You would've left after you saw the band your friends went to see."

He was closer now, and it felt like a string had tethered between us, the tension slowly slacking.

"Yeah, well, I wanted to see your set. See how the band was doing."

He snickered at me. "Oh, sure. Of course." His hands finally appeared from his pockets, one running over his chin. "Which song was your favorite?"

Oop. I wasn't expecting that.

"The second one. Villain, or something?"

He nodded. "Like A Villain." Noah's eyes weren't buying it. "Which one did you like least?"

I scoffed. "I don't know, Noah? The first one?"

"Mm, and which one was that?"

I was swallowing the lump in my throat. I couldn't remember, the night blurring together.

"Uh, I don't know the name."

He took a step back, triumphant. "You weren't there for the set. You wanted to see me."

Rolling my eyes, I crossed my arms. "Still as self-absorbed as ever, I see?"

"Am I wrong?"

He had me backed into a corner, and he fucking knew it.

I threw my arms up. "Fine! Maybe I did. But you wanted to see me too."

He sneered at me, venom on his lips. "Obviously, or else I wouldn't be here."

"You still haven't said why."

"Why did you want to see me?"

My voice was raising, frustration growing. "I don't know!"

"I don't know either!" He yelled back at me, and my mouth snapped closed. Noah never raised his voice at me. Not ever.

He took three long strides over to me until he was only stood a foot away.

"I didn't expect to ever see you again, Y/N! I thought you were gone forever! So imagine my surprise when I see you walking out of the House of Blues, and you deny even knowing me!"

I felt like shrinking into a ball right there on the floor, ceasing to exist.

"I wanted to see you because how could I not?! Seven fucking years, Y/N!" He backed down for a second, his breathing becoming ragged. "I've been waiting seven years."

I furrowed my brow. "Waiting?"

"For you to reach out. To tell me you missed me. To give me some kind of indication we could reconcile and be us again."

There was a fire, deep down in my gut, that I had never been able to truly extinguish. A fire Noah had lit years ago. A mine shaft burning like the depths of hell in my belly that I had buried under concrete and therapy, keeping it at bay.

In my apartment, tonight, that fire broke loose. And there was no stopping it.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" I took a step forward, pressing into his space, index finger jabbing into his chest. "I was supposed to reach out?!"

He took a step back, eyes now full of fear.

"I professed my love to you, Noah! I told you I wanted you, and you fucking left!"

He puffed at me, pointing a finger back at me. "You told me to leave!'

"Yes! Because you told me you didn't love me! You told me you couldn't love me the way I loved you!"

He squeezed his lids shut tight, growling and turning away from me, taking several steps away. His hands came up, gripping the beanie on his head.

"God damn it Y/N!" He turned to look at me, a fiery rage matching my own behind his eyes. "Of course I fucking loved you!"

My heart stopped, completely motionless.

"What?"

"I've always loved you! From the moment I laid fucking eyes on you! I've never loved anyone, no one, the way I loved you!" He charged me, backing me toward the couch. "But I couldn't love you, Y/N! I wasn't good enough. I was a piss-poor high school dropout musician trying to make a name for himself, and, until recently, failing miserably."

I couldn't speak, thoughts racing so fast, I struggled to keep up.

"And you?" He pointed a finger back into my chest. "You were smart, and motivated, and you were going to make something of yourself. I couldn't drag you down with me. I couldn't force you to follow this journey with me. It would've ruined your life!"

My lungs weren't working right, and my hands were shaking. He wasn't actually saying this. I was hallucinating.

"So I left. I left to give you a chance at a real life. Which, evidently, you've managed to build without me." He took a step back, then, dropping his hands. "And I, somehow, without you."

This hurt me, hearing he had managed to become so successful, despite my involvement.

"Noah, I had no idea-"

"No," He cut me off. "you didn't."

I hadn't even caught the tears falling from my eyes, blurring my vision until he was just a watery mess in front of me.

"You didn't need me." I choked out, and he looked directly at me, inquisitively. "You've made it so far. You're a rockstar now, Noah."

He scoffed. "Y/N, you don't get it." He looked away from me, focused on the wall behind me. "I died without you. Something inside of me was lost the day I left, and I never got it back."

"Well, you're successful now, so it can't be so bad, right?"

He snorted, shaking his head. "Success always comes with a price."

My lips were wet with the tears I couldn't hold in, and I couldn't keep my breathing even. I knew he saw it, but hesitated to engage, wanting to keep a wide berth between us. I couldn't take it. It was too much.

Hearing he loved me. Hearing I had been wrong all this time. Hearing that the heartbreak I felt for so long wasn't his fault. He was protecting me, even after all these years.

"Noah?" He chanced a glance at me, and I saw his own eyes sparkling with moisture.

I couldn't take it.

I rushed him, grabbing hold of his shoulder and clinging on, desperate to find relief against him. My lips smashed into his, tearing apart the barrier I had worked so hard to build.

His hands grabbed me, holding me into place against him, his lips melted into mine, returning the kiss fervently. We were hopeless. We were hungry.

My tears didn't stop flowing, emotion pouring out of every pore. My fingers clawed at him, needing to get closer. My hand grabbed the beanie, and pulled it off of his head, his dark hair falling over his eyes. I gripped it at the scalp, trying to pull myself closer.

Feeling what I was attempting to do, his hands lifted me by the back of my legs, so I could wrap them around his midsection. I refused to disconnect the kiss, breathing in his soul. It was so real and so familiar. How I missed it like hell.

His legs carried us to the couch, where he sat us down. My legs straddled him, and I finally pulled away to tug at the sweatshirt he wore. He made quick work of pulling it up over his head while I did the same with my own. Reconnecting our lips, my hands wandered over his neck and chest, scratching at the fabric of his shirt.

His teeth caught my bottom lip, and I moaned into his mouth. His fingers pulled at the waistband of my pajama pants, and I lifted myself enough to slip them off, replacing myself on his lap. His jeans were already getting tighter as his hands smoothed up and down my thighs.

"Fucking hell." He looked down, staring at my bare breasts in front of him. "These got bigger, huh?"

I laughed, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, well, things change."

His fingers gripped around my left breast, lips falling to circle around the hardened nipple. I let my head fall back, relishing in the warm feeling spreading throughout my body.

"Still so fucking beautiful, just like I remember." I pulled at the hair on the back of his neck. "Did you miss me, baby girl?"

I ground my hips down against him in response. His hand began playing with the button of his jeans, and I moved it away to open them myself.

I stood up to pull his jeans down to his knees, his boxers bulging in the crotch.

"Oh, fuck." I sighed out. "Yeah, I missed you."

His smile then was devious, some of that regular spark shining back in his eyes. "Then show me, huh?"

Reaching into the opening of his underwear, I pulled his cock free, taking a moment to remember just how large it was. It had been a very long time since I had seen anything quite that impressive. Dipping my head down, I licked a long stripe up the shaft, lingering on the head to gather the precome leaking out.

"Holy shit." His head fell back on the couch, his eyes rolling back with it. "Mm, do that again, please?"

I smirked, looking up at him. "Only since you asked so nicely."

My tongue repeated the movement, drawing out a hard groan out of him, his legs twitching. "Fuck yeah, baby."

Without warning, I wrapped my lips around him and swallowed him as far down as my throat would allow, gagging on the tip as it struck my tonsils. His hips jolted upward, effectively fucking my throat.

"Please, Y/N, I won't last that way." He begged, his words only coming out as breaths. "I need to feel you, please."

He was begging, and I couldn't resist it. I needed him too.

I stood back up, and kneeled on either side of him, carefully lining him up with my entrance. When I sunk down, that delicious burn pierced through me, and my body collapsed onto him at the intensity of it.

"Noah, oh my God." He ran a hand up my back, allowing me a moment to adjust.

"I know, baby. I know." He soothed me, rubbing small circles into my skin.

My hips stuttered forward, needing to feel the friction. His hand reached down to grab my ass, and lifted me upward. Without warning, his hips snapped forward and fucked into me, making a sharp scream leave my lips.

My face rested on his chest, whimpers falling from my throat with each hard thrust.

"Fuck, you missed me, pretty girl?" He was panting between his words, his rhythm picking up speed. "Missed the way I fuck you?"

My eyes were rolling back, the tears from before now replaced with tears of raw pleasure.

"I'll bet you've never been fucked like this, huh?" His words were just tones of desire playing in my ears, his cock absolutely destroying me. "No one can fuck you like I can, baby. No one."

My nails dug hard into his shirt, begging for release.

"Let me know when you come, baby. Not finishing until you do."

Luckily for him, I was riding the edge so hard it was making the room spin. Biting my lip to keep from screaming, I lifted myself to look at his face.

"Noah," I searched his eyes, his hips not faltering. "I love you."

He grit his teeth, trying to focus on me and his hips at the same time. "I love you, too. So fucking much."

My face fell back down, landing on the side of his neck. "I'm going to come. Please, Noah, I'm so close..."

He, somehow, managed to pump into me harder, sending my body over the cliff and into the warm waves of my orgasm. My body went slack against him as my walls pulsed around his length.

I heard him curse, and his hips stilled. I felt him spasming inside me, and silently thanked myself for my IUD.

We laid that way, sweaty and heaving, for a solid ten minutes before either of us could find the strength to move. I slipped him out of me, and sat up to look at him. He looked absolutely wrecked, in the best possible way.

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread over me.

"Hi." Was all I could manage.

He chuckled tiredly. "Hi."

-

After our excursion, Noah and I had taken a few minutes to clean up, and, being as exhausted as you'd expect, decided to lay together for a while.

He told me he had to leave within a few hours to get back to his hotel, heading to the next city bright and early, so I told him I'd stay up until he had to leave.

However, in my bed, his arms wrapped tightly around me, his voice whispering sweet words in my ears, I struggled to remain conscious.

"Do you remember when I bought you that Oasis album for your fourteenth birthday? That was basically me professing my love to you."

"I was such an idiot. I should've just told you."

"You have no idea how much I've missed you. I don't think you'll ever understand."

"I'm so sorry. I wish things were different..."

And that's how I woke up, light in my bedroom far too bright, and my bed empty.

I don't know what I expected? For him to stay? Fuck off his tour to make up for lost time with me?

But still, my chest stung when I saw he had left, but I wasn't surprised.

Something had changed last night, and the darkness that lingered in the depths of my being had lifted, leaving me with a sense of hope I hadn't felt before.

When I had woken for the day, clearing the cobwebs from my eyes, I contemplated my next move. He had surely left town already, but that didn't mean I couldn't keep in touch, right?

Pulling out my phone, I found his contact, and opened a text thread.

Me: Hey, call me when you can. I think we have a lot to talk about. :)

I set my phone down on the bathroom counter, preparing to brush my teeth when my phone dinged, and the notification told me the text had failed.

Odd?

I resent it, getting the same response.

Why would my messages fail? I paid my bill, right?

Quickly dialing Ray's number, I held the phone to my ear and heard the ringing, so I knew my service was fine. Giving her a quick apology for waking her, I hung up, and went back to my texts.

His number was the same, right?

I went back to my call logs, seeing it was his number that called me last night, so it was the same as it had always been.

So...what the hell?

My finger hovered over the number for a moment, and I weighed the options before finally resolving to just call him. Make sure I wasn't losing my mind.

I held the phone to my face as I started brushing my teeth, waiting for the call to connect.

"The number you have reached is not in service. If you feel you have reached this message in error, please hang up and try your call again."

[transmascdagothur]

Idk how to say this but I'm kinda tired of uwuifying every single aspect of Elder Scrolls and Dagoth Ur especially. I know the transmasc dagoth ur blog has been pretty funny so far but you know, TES lore by nature is insanely dark and i don't see many people appreciate that over here on tumblr. I want to see more horror. I want to portray Dagoth Ur as a fucked up husk of a sad man, I want him to be an absolutely horrifying monster. There's nothing wrong with taking terrifying characters and turning them into comfort characters because at the end of the day it's just fictional shit like go off monarchs, you want miraak to have a chiseled jawline and sheogorath to have a family, like that's cool and whatever. Tbh I love it when people use their imagination and come up with shit like that.

BUT. Personally I find it insanely cool when people can take a villain as a comfort as well as portraying them as just that: villains. Like can we all agree that if you portray a comfort oc as inherently evil or at least morally grey, IT DOESN'T MAKE YOU A BAD PERSON. You can like Dagoth Ur as the fucked up thing he is in game, you don't have to ignore that he literally wanted to drive out all the other races from morrowind and take over tamriel with a god robot. It doesn't mean you support ideas like that if you like the character. Idk why I need to say that.

It's not just Dagoth Ur, I see it with all the other evil characters too. Miraak, Mannimarco, all the daedric princes, Alduin, the tribunal, like ESPECIALLY the tribunal. I don't wanna hear anyone go like "nooo my babygirl Vivec has done nothing wrong" to me he is a bug eyed little freak and I LOVE HIM BUT HE ALSO BETRAYED AND SPEARED NEREVAR ALIVE. I'm looking at all of you rn. lol

Anyway so if you disagree with this idc, this is just my opinion. I'm just saying, I'm gonna focus on more darker aspects of this franchise from now on, at least with my other nerevarine oc Kazakir. But yall can still ask stuff about Dravas and his super romanticized AU with Dagoth Ur! Remember to hydrate and stretch your legs, rant over.

[littlemisssatanist]

my acotar unpopular opinions

taking this time to come out as an acotar reader. yes i've read all the books and i've spent way too much time thinking about it. i enjoy the books in the sense that i enjoy hating on many of the characters and loving a few of the others.

be forewarned inner circle fans. you will not like this.

rhysand is not a 'morally grey' character. he's a rapist and a groomer. he sexually assaulted feyre utm, he groomed her (reminder that she was 19 in acotar), and he withheld important medical information from her. 'you'll always have a choice' my ass.

nesta telling feyre about her pregnancy was not a bad thing. why do people act like it is? 'oh she did it to hurt feyre' hurt her by doing what? revealing the lies that her beloved husband had woven? revealing the fact that she'd die giving birth? the fact that rhysand told literally everybody but feyre?

mor is not the champion for women everyone thinks she is. this i will give to sjm it is truly impressive to make a character like women and still be a pick me. i'm not even going to go into her whole weird ass relationship with her dad (i still don't understand why she wouldn't just kill him. 'oh rhys needed the army' rhys is supposed to be the most powerful high lord ever. either admit he's a fucking loser or give me an actual good reason for this) or the fact she's seemingly incapable of doing anything to help the women in the court of nightmares, but everytime she was mentioned, i had to let out a heavy sigh and rub my temples.

on a similar topic. i liked eris. like a lot. out of all the acotar characters sjm has written, eris is by far my favorite.

the inner circle needs to sit the fuck down. they are the most hypocritical bitches i've ever met. they like to think themselves high and mighty. reading them make fun of lucien's band of exiles while their name is literally 'court of dreamers' was the most infuriating thing ever. and then they have the gall to be insulted when called out. don't dish what you can't take.

out of all the inner circle, the only one i don't hate is azriel. this is simply because he is the only one who hasn't opened his big fat mouth and done something bad (except if you maybe count his whole thing with elain). cassian is on my hit list. it's on sight with cassian.

nessian is sjm's worst ship and i will stand by that. lucien/nesta could have been so much. 'nesta would have ripped lucien apart' and cassian was your first choice? not even azriel was considered? like be so for real right now. sjm didn't see the potential of lucien/nesta and i will forever mourn that.

sjm is a terrible writer. i'm not saying this to be mean but she seriously just sucks at it. that being said i admire her ability to still make millions of dollars off her shitty writing. as a woman, i am rooting for her. as a reader, every day i wake up a shoot a prayer to the heavens begging the gods to not let sjm write any more books from the inner circle's pov.

lucien/elain is better than azriel/elain. argue with the wall.

eris/azriel is better than azriel/elain. you can kiss my ass.

NESTA/ERIS IS BETTER THAN RHYSAND/FEYRE. i know this because i have been enlightened.

feyre is a victim to rhysand. that being said, she is also a major bitch. both can be true because these things are not mutually exclusive. i wish she could make friends outside of the ic like nesta did, but i know that's unlikely.

feyre's pregnancy storyline was completely useless and went against her whole character.

acomaf retconned everything about tamlin and feyre's relationship in order to make more money. idc.

tamlin gets a ridiculous amount of hate. rhysand is hypocritical. so tamlin locking feyre in a house because she wants to ride out with him into potential danger is terrible and abusive, but rhysand locking nesta in the house of wind for... *checks notes*... having sex and spending money on alcohol is helping her? what?

[tainted-liquor]

'I Have A Girlfriend! ₊‧.°

Post-Anesthesia!Miles Morales x BlackFem!Reader ᧔᧓Ingredients: Crack, kisses, and a lil bit of smiles! zᶻ∘⋆TWs: Menace Miles, N-word usage, Cussing, Jeff abuse, me brushing up on Spanish ⁺˚⋆W/C: 1k! ♡⸝⸝A/N: Crackfic abt post-op Miles 😝 I spent 20 minutes trying to get tumblr to work on my fuhkin computer. No images but dividers idc

"Miles, Put your tongue back in your mouth!" Mrs. Morales urged as she pulled him back on the couch. "Ay, Dios! ¿Cuándo te poniste tan pesado?" She huffed, flopping back on the couch. Miles didn't answer, groaning in frustration as he slid halfway down the sofa in protest. "MamiiiiiiiiiI!" He whined in a shrill voice, gauze muffling his every syllable. "Yes, Miles? What is it now?" Mama Rio asked, her tone laced with amused irritation.

"Dónde está mi novia?" He muttered as the top of his head smushed against the glazed hardwood floor. "She's on her way Miles, calm down you're not supposed to talk too much…MILES! NO NO NO!" She urged as she watched her son attempt to spit out the bloody gauze tucked into the back of his mouth. There were three soft knocks at the Morales's door, with Mama Rio sighing in relief as she opened the door to reveal your smiling face, your eyes widening as you heard Miles's low groans of disproval in the background. "Hi, Mrs. Morales! Is he…okay?" You asked quietly, peering your head through the front door as you watched Miles inch slowly off of the sofa. "Hey, sweetie! Oh don't worry about him he's…being dramatic…" she trailed off, slowly gazing at her son who was now folded in half on the floor.

She giggled quietly, stepping to the side as she permitted you entry into her warm and inviting home. You made a B-line for Miles, scooping the liquid boy up under his arms and laying him back on the couch. "Hey, my love! How are you-…Aht! Nigga!?" you began, eyes widening in shock as he shushes you, grabbing your face in his entire hand as he barely held his eyes open. "No! I…Have a girlfriend!" he slurs, doing a half-crunch to be eye level with you as he attempts to make eye contact. You laughed quietly, gently easing him back to his resting position. "I am your girlfriend!" You chuckled, watching as his eyes widened as wide as the anesthesia would allow them to.

"Muñequita! Te amo tan mucho…" He exclaimed, engulfing you in a surprisingly lethal hug that left you tapping his forearm for release. You nodded avidly, loosening his arm slightly so you could comfortably breathe before slipping away from his grasp to go help Mama Rio with some household chores. You spent around 20 minutes making small talk with her, talking about how his procedure went, how long it would take to recover, and a bit about how much of a fool he was acting just minutes before your arrival. You giggled as you gossiped like school girls, perking up when you heard the front door swing open. "Oh, Hello Mr. Morales!" You greeted, waving a hand energetically from the kitchen sink.

"Hey! Thanks for coming to check on…Miles." He begins, head slowly turning towards his son who was now face down and completely on the floor. He was babbling absolute nonsense, singing songs in the completely wrong key to keep himself distracted as he attempted to find his footing. You rushed over to him, Mama Rio holding up her camera and covering her mouth to silence any giggles that threatened to break free. "C'mon, Vamos a recuperarte…that's it…" You grunted, lifting a very zooted Miles off the ground, knees buckling as he leaned his head on your shoulder and rested every pound of his body weight against you. You gasped, nearly falling over before Jeff quickly grabbed Miles, attempting to throw him over his shoulder and get him to his room. Everyone fell silent as a loud *pop!* noise was heard, Rio laughing as loudly as humanly possible while Jeff winced in slight pain. Miles put all his strength possible into popping his father, remaining groggy and unafraid as he gave his father a sleepy but stern glare. "Who the FUCK are you nigga?" he garbled, feet dangling in the air as Jeff held him up under his arms just above his head. He gave him the most livid glare that would've sent sober Miles into a coma, sighing and shaking his head as he mumbled to himself. "Yeah, that's it alright. Grounded for TWO MONTHS!" You lost all composure, wheezing and cackling on the floor as you watched Jeff angrily swaddle Miles in his hoodie, tying the sleeves of the red cotton together in a makeshift way to make sure his arms didn't move again.

You and Rio struggled to find your air as Jeff threw him down onto the couch, wrapping two blankets underneath the cushion and around Miles to hold him in place. Miles cried loudly, screaming as his life depended on it as his father put his hands on his hips, giving him one final glare, and walking away. You struggled to breathe as you got up and patted Miles's head, hooting and hollering as you wiped the remnants of tears from your waterline. You were just about to calm down, taking deep breaths as you stabilized your lungs. "Oh, hey, Kitty!" you cooed, glancing over at the family cat as he jumped up on Miles's chest. Miles squinted at the small ginger cat, taking it in for about 10 seconds before screaming. "WOAH WOAH WOAH WHATS WRONG!?" You asked, watching as Miles's face contorted into one of genuine horror. The cat was now long gone, swishing off into the hallway to take several deep bites of food. Miles was still screaming, babbling incoherently about some sort of 'overgrown rat' being on his chest. You lost it once more, head and chest throbbing as you laughed yourself into hysteria. You cuddled up by your boyfriend, shushing him through tears as you peppered gentle kisses to the side of his face. "Miles! Calm down, okay? It's literally your cat!" You giggled, patting his face gently as he squirmed in the makeshift straight jacket his father put him in. After calming him down and getting him to drink some water you noticed him begin to mellow out, holding him close to you as you slowly silenced him to sleep.

"C'mon, shut the mouth…No-No, don't spit out your gauze we'll change that later. I love you, Miles!" "Bleh."

[ushys]

⸻ miles morales as your boyfriend (earth 1610)

a/n: omfg the chokehold this gif has on me- anyway you guys do not understand how much love i have for this sweet boy 🥹 deserves the world idc idc.

- fluff, no nsfw bc he is a minor, afab reader (lmk if you guys want gn, male)

MILES LOVES drawing you. you’re perfect in his eyes and he could draw only you for all of eternity and he wouldn’t complain at all. everything about you was beautiful to him and he made sure he captured every beautiful detail you have on to his drawings.

MILES is the type to send you cute (your favorite animal) videos on tiktok because he knows how much you love em and all he wants to do is to make you happy.

WILL introduce you to his family and is happy when he finds out how easily you and his parents got along. you got along with his mom so well that sometimes you’d visit their house and mostly talk ‘chisme’ with her the entire time (he gets jealous-)

AFTER an argument, he stops by your window and drops you off flowers with a little cute note apologizing. he doesn’t know if you would want to see him at that moment so he gives you time to cool off and give you some space. he replies immediately if you were to call or text him ready to talk again due to how much he hates wasting time not talking to you.

HE likes showing you off to anyone. his friends? yes. his family? yes. strangers on the street? yes. he can’t help it if he’s madly in love.

WHEN he revealed to you that he was spider-man, he was scared that you were going to be mad at him for keeping this a secret from him for a very long time. he thought that you were going to think that he didn’t “trust” you but when you were actually ecstatic finding out instead of upset, his worries all vanished as he smiled and hugged you.

WILL have a whole playlist dedicated to you. he likes to listen to that playlist when you aren’t with him, yk so he could daydream.

IS completely oblivious when you’re jealous. if you catch him talking to another girl who is clearly into him, you’d be upset in which miles would ask you about but you would just mumble “it’s nothing”. hearing this, miles thinks back to the entire morning wondering if he did something to make you upset. when you finally tell him, he quickly reassures you and says “i don’t feel anything towards any other girl who isn’t you. i love you and only you ma.”

IF it’s late at night and you can’t fall asleep, miles would come over with his spider-man suit on and picks you up, and swings to different buildings. then, you guys would land on a rooftop with a clear and beautiful view of the city at night and by the edge you guys would sit down, while miles pulls you in close to him, head on his shoulder, admiring the sight of the skyline. “it’s so pretty” you say. “not as pretty as you cariño”

MILES used to think that pet names were lowk cringey, but when he started dating you, everything changed. now, he calls you “mi amor” “baby” “my love” “cariño” “preciosa” “babe”

HE can not flirt if he wanted to flirt on purpose. he gets awkward and shy like 🫣🫣 this one time before you guys started dating, he wanted to make a move on you by saying “hey y/n, a-are you fr-from tennessee? cause you’re the 1 f-for me- wait no that’s not right, wait what was it again? i u-uh never mind.” and he scurried off before you could even say anything. “the fuck-“

WHEN you guys go on the train, he would pull out his airpods and give you one of them while you guys listen to one of his playlists (ahem the playlist he made for you but shh you don’t know that.)

IF you don’t do graffiti art, miles will take you to one of his secret locations and teach you how to draw certain things and praises you for trying your best. once you get better at it, you guys start going to his secret location more often and you guys just spend hours spray painting.

LOVES LOVES LOVES cuddling with you. literally one of his favorite things to do with you. he loves just having you in his arms knowing you are safe and sound with him. your soft and warm skin making him wanting to fall asleep because of how comforting it feels to just have you there with him. what he loves the most is having your arms around him holding him close while his head lays on your chest, listening in to your heartbeat knowing you really are there with him and that you are his and he is yours.

TAKES random and silly pictures of you just to send them later to you after you guys hung out and texts you saying “this one is my favorite.”

HAS a picture of you on his lock screen and his home screen.

that’s all for today, im tired and imma go and day dream about this boy :p

[malereadermaniac]

Hope ~ Nagito Komaeda x Male Reader

Idc what anyone says I love this man sm Feeding an almost starving Nagito near the start of Chapter 2 of SDR2 - and a small bonus of the despair disease at the end! Short fic! word count: 1.2k m!reader (no genitalia mentioned) / FDNI Hope's Peak = College (aged around 20) (U/t) - Ultimate Talent

Walking out of your cottage, you run into a pissed-off looking Hajime

"Hey, Hajime! What's up? You look like, really mad" you say with a small chuckle, trying to cheer up your tall classmate

"Yeah I'm good... I just went to give Nagito food and... ugh he's just such a dickhead" Hajime mumbles, letting out a deep sigh and shaking his head slightly

"Yeah... he's quite the personality isn't he? I'm sure he means well, in some demented way" you chuckle with Hajime at your remark

"Did he end up eating then?" You ask on a whim to carry the conversation on

"Uhhh... I don't actually know" Hajime says with a guilty look on his face

"I mean, I left the food in front of him to eat! But once he started acting up, I just left" Hajime explains after you give him a weird look

"Aren't his hands tied up?? He's probably in tons of pain from hunger right now... Even worse, what if he dies, Hajime?!" You say in a small panic

"I'll go check on him, see ya later!" You wave Hajime off, slightly speed walking towards the old building

While you disliked Nagito as much as almost everyone else on this island, your morals couldn't let you leave Nagito to practically starve

After getting past Monomi, you open the door to the room Nagito was in

Your heart rate increases as you see Nagito, unconscious and tied up on the floor

Running over to him, you kneel down next to the unconscious blonde and immediately feel for a heartbeat

Luckily, you find a slightly slow one - calming you down right away

You look around for the food Hajime left, finding a sandwich with one small bite taken out of it and a bottle of milk

Moving the plate closer to you and taking out some fruit you had with you, you try to gently wake the starving man up

Nagito's fair skin looks even paler than usual, his body clearly weaker

You slowly shake the lucky student awake, his eyes weakly opening to great you

"Ahhh... (y/n), come to take advantage of my weakened state? I'd be... happy to help?"

Even when starving, Nagito can still somehow be annoying as hell, offering his life up to anyone and everyone

"Hah... nope, I've come to save your life, actually!" You say with a slight annoyance on your voice

You slowly sit Nagito up against a wall, kneeling next to him, holding the plate of food

"Aw.. are you gonna feed... me, (y/n)? A lowly nothing like me?"

"Shut up and eat..." you mumble as you feed Nagito the sandwich from earlier

As you make your way through the food you brought over, Nagito and you start to make idle conversation as his complexion starts to regain some colour

You focus on Nagito's soft lips as you feed him, his watery eyes from his body's uncontrollable joy of being able to eat

"Thank you... I do really owe you one, (y/n)" Nagito says with a small smile, closing his eyes for a second as he chuckles

"No problem... I'd do this for anyone, really" you say, blushing slightly at Nagito's sincerity

"Guess that's the kindheartedness of an ultimate... But not just for feeding me y'know" Nagito mumbles

"Oh yeah? Then for what?" You question, slightly confused by what the blonde was talking about

"I was having a pretty bad dream..." Nagito's face started to lose colour again as he remembered what he was dreaming about, his expression trying to clearly hide his true feelings

"...But you woke me up, I'm really grateful for that! 'Cause of the ultimate (u/t), I didn't have to carry on being tortured by my own subconscious" Nagito says with a wide smile, the crazed look in his eyes returning whenever he talks about hope or ultimates

After a moment of silence as you helped Nagito drink the milk, you broke the comfortable lack of sound

"What... were you dreaming about? If you don't mind me asking"

"Hmhm... my parents dying.... and my dog haha - for the ultimate lucky student, its quite ironic that all that's brought me comfort in life has died, wouldn't you say?" Nagito answers honestly, you can tell from hid tone

You were quite shocked at this sincere revelation

"Oh I'm... sorry to have asked... but I'm sure that you can find new comfort, whilst cherishing the memories of your old comforts" you try to comfort the blonde

The look on Nagito's face had changed from a facade of happiness to visibly real comfort

"Heh... thanks, (y/n). Y'know, I think you're the first on this Island to be genuinely nice to me" Nagito said with a warm smile

You'd thought to yourself if this was the real Nagito - no hope bullshit and crazy demands to be killed, just real human emotion and connection

"You've given me a new sense of hope, in away, you're my hope, (y/n)"

You blushed at Nagito's words, profusely

"Don't.. say stuff like that! People can get the wrong idea, y'know" you look anywhere but into Nagito's eyes as you blush

But if you had looked into his eyes, you would of seen a similar look to when he's crazy about hope and talent, however the way he looked at you was full of warmth and comfort

Bonus-short: Despair Disease

The hospital was creepy at night, but you had to stay there - Mikan had been whisked away to take care of a worsening Akane, leaving you to take care of Nagito

After putting a cold towel on Nagito's head, you sit by his side and watch over him

After a few hours, the feverish blonde regains consciousness and notices you by his side

"(Y/n)?" He asks, not trusting his blurry vision

"Yeah? You okay, Nagito?" You ask, a tired look on your face but you make the effort to smile

Somehow, Nagito musters his strength to stand up

"H-Hey! You shouldn't be up, you should rest up in bed" your words fall on deaf ears

"I don't.... want you here, (y/n)... L-Leave... Now" Nagito mumbles, his face looking distraught

"Hey... what's up, Nagito? I'm just here to make sure you stay stable" you assure the blonde

"I Hate... you, (y/n)" Nagito's eyes start to well up in tears, his face actually distraught

"Okay, okay... I'll leave if you get back in bed, okay?" You bargain with the ill blonde

"Y-Yes!" Nagito shouts, however his words don't match his actions

Nagito for some reason dashes to the door and blocks it

"Leave now... I don't want you, I don't need you, I hate you" Nagito mumbles

"What...? Oh!" You were confused by Nagito's actions, that is until you remembered what kind of despair disease Nagito has

The liar disease makes Nagito say the opposite of what he means

"I'll stay, Nagito, for you I'll stay, come back to your bed"

"That's not good..." Nagito mumbles as he makes his way back to his bed, his warm had in yours

By the end of the night, Nagito had persuaded you to share the bed with him, so what if you catch the disease too...

Wait a minuet... Nagito says the complete opposite of what he means...

Why did he say "I hate you, (y/n)"???

[eldrith]

ғʀᴏᴍ ᴇᴅᴇɴ ; ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ.

ɪᴅᴇᴀʟɪsᴍ sɪᴛs ɪɴ ᴘʀɪsᴏɴ ;

jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader words: 8.2k synopsis: jacaerys falls for a woman in aegon's garden. notes: here's part two of my mini series for halloween ! just fyi, this is the longest part that i have planned out of all five parts <3 next chap will include smut. this one goes out to my febu frongers for helping with my sanity (losing it) ily chapter warnings: isolation/loneliness, kissing, grief, eating as symbolism, description of death, fluff, religious themes & symbolism, spooky-ish, questionable morals, jace is a bit bigoted (canon idc), impure thoughts, light corruption kink, brief mention of smut - but once again still pretty tame. series masterlist. masterlist.

“SȲNDOR IS MISSING.” 

The observation comes in a billowed plume of wind to Jacaerys’s face, brushing silver hair against his shoulder as he turns to his cousin mid-step.

Baela’s face is tinted in some mild melancholy at the announcement of the disappearance - Jacaerys’s tilt of a consolatory head is halted only by a slight wince of pain within his neck. His body has not yet fully recovered from the flight, he knows: the Twins to Dragonstone is not a necessarily perilous flight, but as he returned to the island he was greeted by torrential pours from the heavens that left him rather chilled and ached to the bone. 

A sharp salt, some smoky wind; boots, traversing over rocks in a sprawling path towards the castle, swaddled near in a thick blanket of morning fog. The sky is calm, the island sleepy in the midmorning sun- though any quiet day passed upon Dragonstone yields more disconcertment than appeasement these days. 

The sea mist drifts just below cliffs dark down the slope of the Mont; a breeze tugs the hem of his cloak, whipping Baela’s hair, blowing against the dark riding gloves his mother grasps. 

“Sȳndor?” His Queen mother repeats, a faint smile ghosting over her visage.

Her voice is just as absent, distracted as it has been the past few moons - present only when some lick of a leg lifting towards victory flutters into grasp; as last night she had done so, when the idea had sprouted from Jacaerys’s own lips to seek out those who fell from their own line. It is better than death and defeat.  A bird circles overhead; wings spread, it's shadow flickers over Jacaerys’s curls and cuts sharply down towards the outer bailey’s yard, where men sharpen blades and bark to each other in jaunts. 

“Quite a curious name.” 

His mother stares ahead - always, ahead. Around them, wildgrass billows in waves; kissed by black dress skirts, crushed by leather soles. Vermax flies free in the distance, circling the boats which float, no more than fleas upon the horizon. 

A slight lift of her chin as Baela nods. “A stray cat,” She explains, “I found him lurking about the shadows of the kitchens some moons ago.” 

Absently, Jacaerys smirks - Sȳndor. Very fitting. His mother lifts the thick of her cloaked riding gown as she steps - and Jacaerys, moving to aid her movement; a small nod of appreciation towards him. 

After a moment’s breath, the horizon peeks from behind one small hill - and over its wildgrass, Jacaerys strains to find the familiar paint of bright pines that sway in gentle breeze; a floral kiss to the wind, one that lulls the pain in the base of his skull. 

“He’s never wandered far before,” Baela adds, brows drawn slightly, “He only ever eats fish. Perhaps the fishermen have lured him with their catch.” 

Though it would be thought rude to ignore such conversation, Jacaerys cannot help the ache that persists between his eyes - penetrating his mind, leaking in a dull numb throb that carries with each step he takes. From his mother, a nod. “A long way to go for a meal.” She decides, “Perhaps he’s waiting for you to find him.” 

At this, Baela sends the Queen a half-amused glance, aware of the Queen’s preoccupied state, falling into step with her among the swaying swish of weeds which spurt from volcanic soil; Jacaerys slows, his gaze drawn towards the view of the large stretching outer bailey of Dragonstone Castle. 

Such a dull throb in his head - and just there, over the final incline of mounded soil before the descent towards Wind Wyrm Tower: the twisted horns of the large Thorned Dragon statue peeking over the hill. 

Climbing and curling, those jagged gnarled roots black and sharp against the sky - his heart lurches at the sight, recalling the visit nearly a week ago; how it has not since left his mind, those sweet blooms and quiet idyl. 

The world churns around them - the days grow weary with council and strife and death - innocent death; of sons, of mothers and their daughters; the world chews itself over each night when the sun falls and spits out some new solemn omen of conflict upon the first breath of dawn. 

The world churns and Jacaerys’s head aches with the burden of fate; yet Aegon’s Garden rests in its eternal sanctum each day outside his chamber windows. It sings to his weary mind - empty and abundant, bursting over the horizon with green and pinked red, surpassed only by the horns of the Dragon. 

When his mother speaks once more, her own gaze is similarly absorbed with the hooked jags of iron in the distance. “Even when I was younger,” She muses, eyes wary, “It felt those horns grew from the earth itself. It has always been a rather unsettling part of the castle.” 

He can only blink in his memory as Baela humors his mother’s words with her own conversation; words of rot and decay, words which mix into the pot of swirling danger and skirmish; a tumultuous tumble into an ocean colder than that which swallowed his closest blood. And so he falls only a few footsteps behind the women, fighting some odd feeling that the very stone that holds in the garden had always been there, under the turn of soil, waiting for his ancestors to come. 

It is unseen - ever concealed by the stone wall and iron gates, though the Garden does indeed bloom wonderfully. Great clusters of flowers, creeping vines - heavy, but alive nonetheless. The garden, with its honeyed scent and chirping birds, cloying smiles and lingering laughter. 

You - the memory of you, striking a skip in his heartbeat; standing so lovely among the thick growth of blooms, just as inviting as the twisting trees in the distance, as the smiling red anemones which greet the path towards the hedges. 

He’s unsure why the words fall from his lips, though he takes no true effort to halt them as they surge. “The garden is well-tended,” he murmurs. His mother does not remove her sight from the tower ahead, where the Painted Table awaits their company. “Is it?” She wonders. 

He shifts as they begin the descent towards the Tower. “Yes. It’s not nearly as savage as tales have made it seem.”

Baela’s brows furrow, a flash of trepidation in her gaze that slides from his mother and back to his own visage. “You’ve been to the Garden?” 

And though there is no such lilt upon her tongue, there is a wariness - and then, some bristling defense which rises in his chest; his cheeks grow hot as he momentarily recalls that oddly calm grin, those stained fingertips, such wide eyes and lovely, glowing skin. 

“I… visited it a few nights past.” He’s unsure where his hesitance sprouts from, “I met the woman who keeps it.” 

A remote unease has grasped at his stomach, and so he allows no more information - Baela’s eyes have left the hedgeline that peeks over stone walls, her face twisted as she glances expectantly to his mother; waiting for words that do not come. 

His mother has instead set her eyes upon Maester Gerardys, who waits towards the tower’s entrance with a handful of scrolls; her lips are pressed thin, clearly preoccupied with less idle subjects. “-We’ve lingered in the skies too long,” His Queen mother decides as they cross into the yard, nodding as Houseworkers bow. “There are important matters to see. We must propose Ser Steffon.” 

Baela’s stare does not falter; a burning glare into the side of his gaze, a look of unease that brings some breath of irritation crawling through Jacaerys’s veins. 

A WALL OF GLOOM LINGERS IN THE SKY EARLY THE NEXT MORNING. 

Jacaerys does not shiver when his feet meet the cold stone of the chamber floors; instead, he presses palms to his visage, cheeks flushed and warm as he stares absently out the open casement, watching wind stir the pines that gather towards the open bailey below. 

A rare reprieve it is, to not have duties until the sun has reached its peak - and here he’s woken quite early in the day, enough so that the crawling fog has not yet retreated back across the stretch of sea; it lingers, whispering through the island, blanketing sound and licking up the stone walls at the base of the castle below. 

The day’s linen shirt is pressed and crisp; he begins to shed his sleepclothes, blinking away syrupy fatigue and the remnants of restless sleep.

A small burst of morning air calms the clamminess upon his skin, ambered gazes roving the hedgeline of Aegon’s Garden down below - a curling, beckoning respite this morning, when his mind is so dull and sharply pained at the base of his skull. Still lingers a headache that has persisted for days; his skin is bright against the dark morning within his mirror, sullen with the clouding consternation that seems to only grow each day. 

The man who stares back at him is weary, hallowed by the flare of danger that lies for Ser Steffon later in the day - to face the unfaceable, for one who is not a Dragonlord - the circle turns, a voice reminds him. 

Perhaps he will take Vermax out for a ride this morning, to clear his mind. The linen tunic obscures his gaze when he tugs it atop his head, soft against his fatigued skin; though in a flash of white and a startled blink, a sharp movement in the contours of Aegon’s Garden below is nearly missed. 

A flicker, some silhouette - and Jace’s body stills, breath caught in his throat as he tugs the tunic right, grasping at the fabric as he leans towards the sill. 

He could swear he saw…

And in a flicker around a stone replica of the Conqueror’s Throne, he sees it again - a flash of curled hair that catches the breeze, a blue doublet swallowed by the swirled thick of fog. His brows furrow.

Lashes tangle and kiss before his vision, and he raises a shaky hand to rub them - no, he must be mad. But after his hands fall away the figure is back, walking with such a familiar gait, young, slender - moving along a path of flickering roses and poppies which curl back to the earth as he passes them by. 

No. Jacaerys’s pulse quickens, heart rising to his throat; A sinking dread curls along his gut. 

Luke. 

And the wound so delicately healed is torn open in a sharp inhale of disbelief; of unforgiving skies, of jaws which opened and snapped quicker than a final breath - and Jacaerys is staggering back from the window, vision blurrier with each passing moment. 

A cruel, choking sorrow that spurs his limbs into action - a soft knock nearly ignored as his chamber door creaks open, a young handmaid bowing as she carries morning tea. 

His gaze is wide as a doe’s caught in the crosshair of an arrow - and she, floundering for a moment, bending at the waist to set down the tray. “My Prince-” 

“-No.” He snaps, voice harsh as panic races through his mind, “Leave. I-I don’t want it.” He hisses. 

She flinches just slightly as he brushes past her in a flurry; sheath, sword, and the rest of his daywear forgotten, he races through the tower, fingers clenching in a series of shaking gasps. 

It can’t be real. He reminds himself repeatedly as he storms past Houseworkers, tears pricking at his vision, breaths uneven, shallow. The wind pricks at his cheeks and pinks his nose when he breaches the threshold. It isn’t real.

But he must prove it for himself. 

And the iron gates give in to his palms easily, the damp morning dew slicking his hands as fog chokes the air with seabreath. His boots sink into soft earth as he stumbles through the winding path of the garden; eyes darting warily between tall rose bushes and poppies, sucking air into his lungs. Grief curls its slithering tail in the back of his mind, replacing the dull ache which once festered. 

The garden is silent. 

An oppressive, unwelcome silence, save for the rustle of leaves and a very distant call of gulls from the docks below. The blooms seem to still as they watch Jacaerys stumble past, vibrant colors peeking through the fog which creeps behind him; his footsteps falter until he stumbles into a small stone statue, palms curling around its base for support. 

He’s a fool for believing the tricks his eyes played upon him - though it does not make the hollow torment of loneliness ache any less. 

He affords a helpless slump against the statue, leaning towards the stone-carved skirts of what seems to be a maiden with a serpent curling upon her leg; a choked gasp from Jacaerys as he calms his breath, overwhelmed by his bout of childish beliefs. 

Lucerys is dead, he reminds himself, dead. Gone. 

…But he could have sworn he’d seen a boy walking through the path just on the other side of the Thorned Dragon. The stone under his palm is cold against the heat of his body; Only a moment before he takes in the visage of the statue before him. 

With a hitch in his sob, only few tears escape the trappings of his lashes; a sweet curve of cheek, soft jaw, stoned hair which frames a face weathered by time; some serene expression upon the carving that moves in the shifting light above him. 

His heart stutters for a moment - the face’s gentle smile, the arch of a brow - it looks rather familiar; Jacaerys shakes his head, pushing away the sudden tightness in his chest. 

Though uncanny, he supposes it is simply the result of a turned malady of the mind; he’s been thinking of you, seeing you everywhere in the days since you met. 

Intoxicating, you are - a melodic hum that whispers in the wind even when his cheek rests upon pillow; your eyes glinting in the faces of each Houseworker he passes - and how he, despite better judgment, searches each woman he sees with a foolish, desperate hope that it perhaps might be you. 

That he might speak with you again - learn more than just your name, coax that pretty smile onto your lips once again. 

And then, less permissible to admit is a more unseemly desire, one which he suppresses, knowing it is nothing more than restlessness in a war he is forbade to fight; in his dreams, your lips - wrapped salaciously around fig fruits, plucking each thread of his patience, fingers swiping up the sweet juice that drips down your chin and swiping those same fingers upon your tongue. The vision sends a sharp heat through his stomach, stirring some hunger deep within him that leaves him incredibly uneasy. 

It takes a moment to tear himself away from the lulling stone gaze of the statue - and more aimlessly now, with a mind numbed by the ambrosial breath of the Garden, of the lingering possibility of you, he wanders further along the path; pretending he doesn’t leer at any passing rustle with the hopes of glancing that familiar figure around every turn’s bend. 

The morning sun barely kisses over the tops of the hedges when Jacaerys finally finds himself back within the small courtyard of the Thorned Dragon; and there, for a few solitary minutes, he idly traces the vines that curl like serpents around the base stone of the statue, recalling how your own fingers had done the very same those days ago. 

Soft, dainty fingers - the ones which had cupped those purpling green fruits, peeled away to find the meaty flesh beneath; how your hand had fluttered so when he’d greeted you. 

That short hide-and-seek game you’d so unknowingly prompted - and then, at the end; A gaze sharp and minatory from behind the very edge he leans upon now, your hair cascading in tresses that blew in the breath of the garden. 

And when you’d come out from that shadow, skirts slithering and sliding with your glide to stand as awkward as a baby doe - your cheeks warmed and bashful, nothing in your eyes but some anxious interest. Sweet. Beautiful. Divine. 

His thoughts are lost with a distant humming deeper within the garden, one which tugs at his interest and his wariness alike - but when a sharp prick on the tip of his finger sends him a sting of pain, his hand jerks back from the plant. 

The motion drives his eyes in a glance to the upper hedgeline, where a figure stands in the hilltop’s distance - Maester Gerardys, watching with eyes sharper than beaks of ravens. 

He blinks back precariously, unsure why there swirls unease within him at the leering surveillance. A stir in his chest, an ice-cold whisper that fails to penetrate the warmth of soil and blooms around him. 

Jacaerys’s finger throbs, and he pulls his gaze away from the distant, watchful man; With a stare of surprise, he watches dark blood bead upon his fingertip - and the thorn, now smeared with that very same crimson. 

Instinctively, he sucks the blood from the throbbing finger, brows furrowing as if trying to recall some distant memory - though when he looks back, Maester Gerardys is gone. 

“Good morrow, my Prince.” 

He quells his startle with a sharp inhale, turning rather quickly to find the source of the shaded voice. 

His heart gives a traitorous leap when his eyes settle on you - a pale dress, your hair loose and beautiful around a gentle countenance; a deep flush upon his cheeks as his eyes settle over the soft skin awarded to his sore sight, at the sun dancing around your hair and off the skin of your chest. He emits a rather unreal laugh, one which falls fleetingly from his lips, his heart warm. 

He breathes out your name; it comes winded, breathless, eager as a greeting could be - and the sight of your shy tuck of tresses behind your ear makes his cheeks warm. 

“I’d not expected you to return so soon,” You observe - though your tone is so very kind, so pure  - he cannot help but smile back in full. 

There’s something deep inside him that has been awoken in the days past - a restless ache that stirs at your gentleness; Jacaerys yearns to somehow take it, protect it, keep it safe from anything that could harm you - as if doing so would silence the clawing talons of beastly desire within his chest. 

He takes a step forward and your eyes track his movements gently. 

“I suppose I found it hard to stay away from such beauty,” he replies with a heated visage, aware of that desperate rawness in his voice that denies the meager attempt at charm.

Though all the same: Your cheeks flush deliciously at his words, a bashful grin that tugs at your lips. 

In a momentary bout of his own shyness, he glances towards the soil below his feet - though it seems his mind truly is playing tricks on him this morn; as he glances away, he could swear your smile flashes some darkened grin in the swaying light. A startling sight, one which drops a pit through his stomach - but when he blinks back up to you, it is gone - and your seraphic face stares back at him, questioning. 

Had you asked him something? 

In a surge of embarrassment, he excuses himself - you do nothing but giggle, voice trilling and light as the clouds, as the wings of a hummingbird. 

You pace warily towards him, eyeing the bench; to which he eagerly gestures for you, pleased when you heed his invitation, both of you sitting as fog swirls around your ankles. 

For a moment, all is calm - the fog breathes in and out with your chest, and he finds himself transfixed on a thin line of puckered skin which traces its way up your arm; no more than a wisp, a meteor of light against the sky of your skin, silver and delicate as the hair of his kin. 

“I wonder what brings you here so early, Prince Jacaerys?” you muse, fingertips brushing along the folded pale purple petals that crawl up the stone bench out of the fog. 

A flash of skin, soft beneath the skirts of your dress as toes dig into the dark soil. He frowns, though your voice pulls him from the haze of absent thought. “Even the Morning Glories have not yet awoken from their slumber.” 

He is unsure how to answer your inquiry; he lets himself instead roam his gaze over the hedges, brows furrowing as he recalls what’d brought him to the garden in the first place. Fuzzy, the clouds of his thoughts float away from his tongue - and after a moment, his fingers grasp the bench below him, some distant hysteria churning in his chest.  

A morning glory is plucked between your fingers - he hears it like a snap in his mind, jolting his spine upright as he watches you lift the bloom to your nose; it has spread its flesh in the few moments since you’ve sat, and the soft petals paint your lips a sweet indigo as you press it against you in a small kiss. His chest stirs in affection. 

That face… so similar in its stony form just hedges behind him; and with a blink, he recalls the sight from his chamber window, of… unease leaks into his stomach. 

“Have you…” His lower lip is pinned by his teeth for a moment when you come to stare him back - visions of blue, of that gait moving sly between rows of roses, of those curls so similar to his very own. “Seen anyone, in the garden?” 

The words hang awkwardly between you for a few breaths - your head tilts, as though considering something very serious - and your eyes, wide and peculiar in the graying light of morning, staring at the flower in your hands. 

“Sometimes,” You decide almost ominously, lifting the flower once again to your nose. Sometimes - his brows furrow, unsure if you understood what he was asking; though with another shaky breath, he begins to speak again. “Well, perhaps I-” 

You speak once more, as if you don’t hear him - your voice in the sky, churning with the fresh soil beneath, blowing with the vines in the breeze.

 “-I had truly hoped you’d return, my Prince.” Your eyes leave the flower to blink owlishly into his own, and he’s once again rooted to the spot, lips pressing shut eagerly to hear your sweet cadence, watching the light dance in your shy smile. “I rather enjoy your company.” 

And his heart leaps once more, clearing his throat as the words previously leveled upon his tongue leave his mind. “You may call me Jacaerys, if you wish.” He insists, and then encouraged by the sight of your fluttered preen, the twitch of pleasure in your smile, he murmurs, “Or… Jace.” 

“WOULD YOU CARE TO WALK WITH ME, MY PRINCE?” 

Your voice this time is as bare as the day is long; a secret into the sunshine, dappled through tall breathing pines swaying above your head. 

It has only been a day since Jacaerys saw you last; one day, though he has told himself his visits to the Garden are nothing but an effort for solitude in a castle swimming with ears and eyes - a place to think, the garden steeps with quiet amity and the blooms admittedly offer a brightness upon the ever increasing gloom of life on the island. 

Though it is hard to deny that you certainly bring Jacaerys the most clarity. 

His smile is only eclipsed by the bright sun overhead - he means to offer you his arm to accompany you through the garden, though before he can, you’ve already turned and set off deeper into the maze of rose and poppy; your hand kissing over the soft petals that keen to your touch gently. 

Affection stirs in his chest as he watches you, striding to catch up as you whisper quietly to the blooms as if they are your oldest friends. 

And a moth to a flame; he falls astride with you easily, ducking his head just so as your quiet voice melodies with the hum of the garden. 

“The crows have set about their hiding games,” You muse - a peculiar girl you are, and his heart softens at the dazed look upon your face. “The weather has begun to turn.” An odd observation - perhaps he has been too preoccupied with efforts of war to notice such things, though the weather has remained relatively uniform in the last few moons. Your eyes drift to him briefly as you turn around a bend - “How fares the council - the Queen?” 

And he trips on a thickly gnarled root - it rots; dark and sooty, oozing with soiled blood of earth. A sharp exhale as he shakes his boot rid of the spiny thing, blinking back some vision of decay that rises from the ground, climbing tendrils up his legs, grasping for his neck and squeezing. 

A flicker in his mind of flames -  billowing up in angry plumes - and screams, agonizing wails as man and armor were claimed by Seasmoke’s ancient breath. His mother’s stare, the flames dancing in her very eyes as he tugged hard upon her sleeve, warning. 

“Getting more dire each passing day,” He murmurs; it is with surprise he looks at you, searching for some mirrored expression. He had not meant to say that, had not even meant to think it. His next inhale is marred by the scent of smoke and burning flesh; with a resist to retch upon the budding Chrysanthemums, he instead clears his throat, placing a calming grasp upon his pommel. 

You say nothing more on the matter, perhaps sensing his unease; the paths on the northern side of the garden begin to twist much sharper - he’s never ventured past the Thorned Dragon and it seems the fauna on this side seem to grow even more thick than the previous; thistles reach out to poke at his trousers, sticking to the skirts of your dress as you move, birds chirp faintly in the hedges, petals rain from lilac clusters higher than his brow. 

He is only pulled from the lulling trance of your hair in the sun when you stop short, his shoulder brushing into your own and sending him chills. 

A tree - gnarled, twisted and thick with time long since eaten; roots slither out, peeking from the earth with mossy, serpentine roots - and small, plump fruits hang from the lower branches that grow thicker than his arm. Jacaerys blinks in awe, a roll in his stomach at the ancient growth, how it provides a ring of thick shade against the sun. 

“What-” He starts, brows lowered over his lashes - it is much too grand a tree to have escaped his notice all the years he’s resided on the island. “I was unaware such a tree grew here.” 

You let out a fluttered laugh, tilting your head. “How do you suspect the maesters and cooks get their oil?” 

From Dorne, his mind answers - but you’ve begun to pace towards the massive olive tree, turning to gaze at him with a rather irresistible glance. “Would you care to lie beneath it with me?” You wonder, suddenly that very same doe-eyed woman he’d met days ago for the first time - upon uneven feet you sway shyly, “I often come here when I need to think.” 

Something tugs the back of his mind, but before he can consider it, he’s stepping forward to follow you under the shade of the sprawling branches. 

The sunlight is even more dappled and muted under olive leaves; the scent is earthy, warm. And slowly, you lie beside him; his body hums with your presence - reduced to some greenboy, heart hammering when your dress skirts ride up just so, providing him a quick glance over smoothed skin marred only with the fresh dirt below you. 

The limbs twist above him; the warmth of the day seeps slowly from the earth and rises equally from the roots which pillow his head and your own. A bird flies in the sky above your heads, hidden by the leaves; he wonders rather ashamedly what he should be doing, if the Housestaff searches for him - he’d skipped training in the yard this afternoon to search for you, though he knows he will have to attend council this eve - there are much dire consequences to face in the wake of Ser Steffon’s death. 

He’s never seen an olive tree quite so large, so alive; in King’s Landing, the road to the Dragon Pit is lined with smaller trees boasting the fruits - though none are so magnificent as this. The memory mars his mind with visions of a future in King’s Landing: boasting banners of black and red, the throne rightly holding his own seat - a far future, where his mother won and has ruled long, peaceful years. A future where his crown is no longer stained with the blood of kin, but restored to its shined, cleansed beginnings. 

A stab in his gut at that thought of after - when the war may be won, but legitimacy remains a shackle that drags him down; which looms within the plagues of his thought-addled mind. A shadow of whispered murmurs his whole life - of Strong blood. 

Some wash of fear - the first of its kind in his heart, at the thought of King’s Landing - of his mother’s legacy, of his own. And you - why does his heart beat with a slow jaunt of dread at the thought of leaving the castle, the garden, you - behind one day?   

It is a disquieting observation as the limbs of the olive tree shift above him. It is my birthright, he reminds himself, and the cycle turns. I will be King, as my mother is Queen before me. 

You shift in his peripheral - perhaps turning your head to look at him, admiring the lined and contours upon his face as he’s done many times past to you - and then your soft voice breaks his reveries.

“Do you ever fear leaving?” 

Ice trickles down his spine at your words. 

With a start, his alarmed gaze bores into one decaying leaf that shakes trepidatiously on a near branch. An eerie accuracy, your words burrow into his chest - and a penetrating thought, one odd and unexpected - as if souls could be made of material; his, soil and yours a seed. 

He must look startled - though your own stare is not upon him but the roots which rise, waves over the earthed ocean you rock gently upon. 

Your fingers pluck figs from a pile that lies beside you; he hadn’t noticed them before - but as his eyes trace the sweet curve of the fruit in your palm, their scent greets his senses with a syrupy hunger. 

His stomach, empty save for his morning tea and broken fast hours before, rumbles in interest at the plump figs - you must notice, as your lips curl into some secretive simper. 

“Where do you get those?” He wonders aloud; in lieu of an answer, you prop yourself upon dainty elbows - this angle provides him ample view of your breasts, sheened with a calm haze of glow despite the respite of shade - he averts his eyes instead to the slope of your nose, the stain dark upon your lips like wine. 

Gods, he thinks - the thoughts he harbors would stop the Septas in their very tracks. 

His attention flutters back to you as you let out a breathy sigh, one that sends warmth through his heart and causes him to clench clammy palms. 

“The crows fly when the season shifts, you know.” you hum, “I like to watch them.” 

An odd sensation then, as the wind blows your hair from your neck; a glowing breath in his chest, affected by the innocence of your words, so very different from the potent words so often levied to him these days. 

In a dreary moment, he strains to recall the last time he and his mother held a conversation that did not have to do with the Greens or dragons; lips so often cracked with the duty of battle, though he is prohibited even from that effort.  

A thick swallow, a lonely feeling - but despite this he feels suddenly very warm when he takes in your lounged form, enjoying a fig gently, eyes trained on the statue opposite the garden from your bodies. 

Two lovers, entwined in what looks like a final embrace - a man, muscular and stern, holding the lovely curves of a woman in his arm - with an arrow lodged within the stoned tissue of his shoulder and one lodged through his throat; she, with one through her own heart. 

He blinks back to you as your voice murmurs again, this time closer - you’ve dragged yourself down to his own level once more, dirt imbuing your frilled dress - you pay the mess no mind, and it simply endears you to him more. “Do you ever think about it? Leaving?” 

Your tone recalls his mind from the clouds. He frowns once more, wetting his lips; in a bout of fluttered heartbeats, he pretends not to notice your eyes track the motion. 

A shaky swallow from him, uneasy with the way your words effortlessly penetrate his very thoughts; The wind blows, you puff air similarly through your pouted lips. Does he think about leaving? How indeed would he not consider it? 

All his life he has prepared for such ascension, though long distant - as Prince of Dragonstone, he’d lord over this very island for many years before leaving for his birthright when the time strikes. It is not a thought he’d openly admit under considerable company; but your eyes, wide and willing, wait for him with a gleaming stare. He would never refuse such alluring companionship. 

“I suppose,” He admits, craning his head to search your eyes - how inviting, open they are - as if you’ve known him for a long life. His lips purse and he finds himself rather pleased to see your eyes flicker low once more with the motion. 

“-Perhaps I grow weary with our efforts in the trials to come.” He sighs, wondering if the words he mutters make any semblance of sense. “I think of it - when I…” He trails off, staring at the gleaming dark of your pupils, swayed as the branches above him as he leans closer. “When I worry mother does not trust me, and the Lords at her council see me as just a boy.” 

A pit in his stomach at such veracious words; though you simply tilt your head, eager to listen - and that loneliness fades, some warmth budding in his heart. 

It spurs some kick of confidence within Jacaerys, that small effort of interest, of empathy - and he is easily melted into your doting nods, the gentle swirl of your fingertips aimlessly spelling letters into the dirt below. “I do think about leaving the island. It’s my birthright,” He murmurs - a flash in your eyes at his words, though he pays little mind as his thoughts trail off, recalling the young servant he’d dismissed quite bluntly the day before. He wonders, in a bout of uncomfortable insecurity, if she resents him for it; if she remains elsewhere in the castle, whispering to others about the unkind Prince of Dragonstone and his loutish disposition.

“Well you must know, the smallfolk here adore you.” A peculiar subject you choose - a nagging alarm that pulses in the back of his mind at your brows, drawn low even over such sweet a face as if you try hard to hide some deeper expression. 

It is a chilling thing, no matter how sweet, that you seem to always read between the words he chooses not to say. 

“You’re their Prince. The King Who Will Be.” 

It is not a title he’s heard, of the many written of him by courtly gossip or maester’s handscribes over the years; The King Who Will Be - shivers cascade down the line of his back, settling an uneasy churn within his gut. Jacaerys sends a lift of a brow as he turns to look at you once more, though words die upon his tongue as he takes you in - an almost discomposed stretch to your smile, some momentary flash of a rather bitter flicker before your visage resumes, warm and full. 

He blinks away surprise, watching as your nails pick at the skin of a smaller fig. Jacaerys shifts on the ground, feeling a tug of unease. “Do they?” He wonders anyways, eager to melt your suddenly cold disposition back into the fluid gentleness of your kind nature. 

Your breath is short as your fingers stop their motions, your gaze flickering to his - your hair is haloed around you, a leaf tangled in one of your wild tresses. “I do.” 

Rather pleased, Jacaerys sends you a smile unbounded, and with a tentative lift of his fingers, he’s plucking the leaf from your hair. 

“You’re not the Smallfolk.” He counters; you simply laugh, that fountain of bubbled giggles which send his heart clenching as you shake your head. 

“Well, Jacaerys, I have always found you admirable.” Your tone is chilled; it arrests him, the fleeting drop of your smile, the reflection of memory which swims in your gaze as you pin him to the soil with your stare. Always. 

You hum, as if confirming his inner thoughts, and then bite into a fig slowly - Jacaerys is transfixed upon your pouted slips, slick with the sweet essence of fruit, of kindness, of you. 

It is only moments, though he seems to have forgotten himself - blank-minded, he resists the urge to reach out to you, to cup your cheeks, to run his palm over the smooth of your skin, to feel the heart he imagines beats so kindly under your breast. 

A bird chirps in the sky and this arbitrarily reminds Jacaerys of the world; the world, which turns outside the walls of Aegon’s Garden. The world of responsibilities which pile up upon his plate stacked much too high, of the dread which drips slow from the flagon of fate with each day past - that nagging insecurity in the back of his mind, the burden of loss, the absence he’s begun to feel shifting each moment he speaks with his own mother-

“I saw a man die yesterday.” 

He blurts it suddenly, the weight of grief forcing words out from his tongue. He once again does not intend to say it; and at the sentence, your features creep in some morbid interest. Unnerved, he swallows thickly and your lips puff out a small coo, turning upon your side as a cat lounges under the sun. 

The glint in your eye is easily tamped out by sympathy, dripping from your expression. Your brows are furrowed in some desperate display of empathy, though the pits of your widened pupils arrest his breath. 

“Death is a heavy burden to carry.” You say rather softly. A simple observation, though it strikes his heart - it is with an effort he strains to recall the last time someone cared to truly listen to his troubles at all. 

He swallows thickly, unsure why tears threaten to gather upon his eyeline; in lieu of his response, and as if you can feel the sudden inclination of his heartbeat, your smile drops, soon visage cooler than the shade under which you repose.

 “Are you afraid of it?” 

He’s taken aback by your question, but only momentarily. “Death?” He confirms - and after your small inquisitive nod, he tilts his head in small jest, squinting one eye against the dappled sunlight leaking through threads of leaves above as he grins. “-Are you not, my Lady?” 

You bite your lip as you always do when he calls you my lady - though fleetingly, a far-off inkling wonders if the effort is not to conceal some shyness, but rather in repression of some vicious laughter. You sigh, then - and you’re so very divine in such an action, with dancing eyes and skirts that slither like serpents in the felled leaves. “I’m afraid I don’t think much about anything outside of this garden, Jacaerys.” 

Some dull desire, perhaps pathetic on his part; but a need nonetheless to know you, to have you know him, spurs his own lilted laugh, hoping you do not recognize his obvious play for your favor. “Nothing else?” He wonders - and it is pushing limits, he knows; rather improper, to act such a way with a lower born girls, and outside of a betrothal - though he cannot bring himself to stop such salacious desires. There is no harm, he decides - there are more important things to be concerned with these days than a Prince in an old garden with a lowerborn girl. 

You’re pleased with his chiding - a flush upon your cheeks, your eyes flicker in interest and something deeper still - “Few things.” You mend with a grin of your own. 

For a moment it is quiet - a peaceful kind, where his heart slams against his chest; There is a bush of forget-me-nots near the ancient olive tree - though they wither and curl, browned by some otherworldly decaying whisper that overtakes any chance of sunlight that might reach them. 

It is odd, how the shade seems to shift with each breath he takes, how the sun warps in the sky - and the earth so moist and fresh under his back, though each time he exits the garden, his boots render immaculately spotless. 

Vines slither over the pathways in this part of the garden; marred by some odd moss that he’d not before seen on the island. “The maesters spoke of Aegon’s Garden when I was young.” His words fall from his lips unbidden, but you seem not to mind. “They believe the soil made the smallfolk sick, that any plant growing within was poisoned.” His brows furrow at such an odd thought, “That it was…damned.” 

At this, you laugh - though there is a piercing sharpness to it that nearly blinds him as his head-ache returns suddenly. His wince is missed by you, as your eyes momentarily flick to the castle - some vicious fervor that dissipates when you turn back to him. “Foolish gossip.” You nearly snap, looking rather upset. “Some may do well to remember how harmful rumors can become.” 

In a moment of regret, he leans upon one elbow, brows furrowing - your eyes have clouded with the passing of clouds over the sun high above; A murmur of your name from his lips as he reaches for you and hesitates. 

He murmurs your name once more, tilting his head and leaning closer to your sweet scent.  “I meant it as no insult.” 

Your lips twist before relaxing, letting out a short breath as you give in, glancing with wettened eyes to him once more. “Men are always quite afraid of what they don’t understand.” 

-Are you afraid of it?-  Your voice lingers a small whisper in the back of his mind; something rather odd about how you know so much and yet nothing truly at all - a wisdom beyond your years. 

And you’re so beautiful, even when blinking away tears; some distant paradise comes to mind at such a sight, though the thought is curbed at your face shifts once more, a sigh echoing with the rustling of leaves dropping from the olive tree above. 

The figs are once more in your palms - and with a growing hunger within his own chest and stomach, he lounges and watches you, if only for a few moments; your lips are plush and shined by the blood of the fruit, and when you tilt your head back, an expanse of soft skin stretches in breath of sunlight. 

And perhaps it will be his downfall one day - but Jacaerys suddenly embraces that searing, reckless impulse; before he can think better of it, he leans down to where you lie upon a gnarled root - and kisses you. 

Pleasure rushes through him. 

A wild thrill that suspends him high into nothingness - a freezing chill, rushing a shiver down his spine when you press so eagerly to him. 

You taste of honey and something forbidden; a wild flavor, one sweetened by the nectar of the gods and your sighs as fingers - icicles - shard their way upon his nape, holding him to you, deepening the kiss in a strangely yearning fervor. with a curl of affection, some intoxicated hunger that has leaked into his mind at the taste of your lips; is it the fruit, he wonders numbly - the fruit, which makes you so divinely enticing? 

And, in an even more debauched thought: Do you taste so sweet everywhere? Shame does not dare lick at his conscience when you are so soft and desiring beneath him - he yearns instead to discover for himself one day, to taste your divinity upon his tongue, feel the puffs of your gasped breath, the smile that paints your features so beautifully against the hollow of his throat. 

He dares not pull away, drawn much too heavily by your sweetness; as if somehow, pressing you into the earth, you might lurch up to consume him in your gentle breaths as a sprout does in soil after a warm sun. 

And you slither beneath him - loose, though sharply tight in your grasp of him, coaxing a thrill through his gut at the way your teeth graze his own bottom lip; a shiver of chills through him as one leg presses against your own, cool under the shade. 

Your eyelashes, fluttering like the kiss of petals upon the apple of your cheeks as you eagerly press your icy lips to his own - a touch marred by the shakiness of perhaps a first kiss; though from the sly prod of your tongue against his own, he begins to doubt even that. 

It is not until you let out a soft noise - no more than a breathy moan, that he jolts back into reality, pulling away sharply from where he’s leant - elbows digging into the soft soil - to press his lips so voraciously against yours. 

His eyes are blown wide as he pulls away just so - and with a newfound deep chill that has settled oddly right into his very bones. 

His breathing puffs out ragged as he leans back further, rather embarrassed by his tenacity as you seem bashful but otherwise unbothered; and his clear arousal, which grows by the moment painting his cheeks a crimson.

The pricked finger of yesterday’s vine begins to throb so very dully - but you’re smiling a heated smile at him, leaning closer to chase his warmth. 

Indeed you are cooler here in the shade - goosepimples ridge his arms and legs below cotton clothing; and along the nape of his neck your fingers gently kiss, eyeing him with some coy hunger that nearly doubles his unease and arousal alike. Your lips, icicles - the snowcaps that peek from cloudy Northern skies aflight Vermax, the whispering winds that shoot off the steep crooks of the Dragonmont during a storm. 

He nearly wonders if you are sick - a chill so sudden is cause for concern well in the recess of summer yet; though your visage shifts beneath his attentive gaze and he is struck immediately thoughtless, wordless. 

You beam. 

A smile so similar to the one you’d shown him the very day you first met; bright, incredibly wide, glinting almost mischievously in your eyes, but yet so endearing - as though it has been quite some time since you smiled last. 

And with the breath stolen from his lungs, he smiles back. 

For a moment, he wonders if he will remember to speak ever again; and with floundering lips, he watches as you shift to sit up just slightly, brushing invisible specs of dirt from your thighs with some practiced knowledge. 

He nearly finds words - some poor attempt at apology for being so unchivalrous and forward - but all at once, a flash of motion startles him backward. 

A giggle is sharp in his mind, and that flash of pain between his eyes flares before disappearing; before him, perched upon your lap precariously and rubbing itself against your breast, is… 

A cat. 

You stroke its fur as it opens its mouth, as if to mewl - yet nothing but some small squeak yields, and you shush it gently with delicate pats behind its ears. 

Jacaerys is struck cold, eyes locked on the little beast - a thud of familiarity that trickles through his muddled mind as its purrs echo out in the very same throbbing rhythm of his finger. A glance to his hands provides nothing but a short respite from the befuddlement that has shrouded his thoughts. 

“Isn’t he so sweet?” You muse, flicking your gaze from the cat to Jacaerys. 

Your stare strikes him - dreamlike, though with that glint that he sometimes wonders if you try to hide - and he swallows thickly, nodding. 

A hand trickled with veins against tanned skin; he reaches out to stroke the small thing. 

Though at the motion, the cat’s tail thickens in alarm - a sharp snarled hiss snapping from its maw as it rounds to him defensively. 

With a jolt back, he stares at the creature, heart pounding in some odd recognition when its cold eyes glint at his. 

“Oh,” You frown in a small, desolate flicker of sadness. “Jacaerys, I am sorry about him. He’s still learning the rules here.” You tut towards the cat, shaking your head. 

A faint alarm rings in his mind, though he’s always had a slight distaste for cats; Lucerys was allergic, and oft would swell like a ripe tomato when one of the strays found their chambers as boys. “You must be hungry, darling,” You whisper to the little black thing, petting softly as it curls into your lap. 

He can only stare as you tear a piece of the very fruit you’d previously bitten into before Jace lost his resolve - and the cat lurches towards it, tearing at it as if it were some prey. 

More bizarre a sight is how you watch on with a nearly transfixed hunger, your eyes flickering with the falling leaves - Jacaerys stares at you with parted lips, bemused and yet genuinely disturbed at your sweet disposition as the bloodthirsty beast in your lap thrashes. 

“They’re so delicious, even he can’t resist.” You giggle, eyes nearly raving in size and focus as the cat tears at the fruit, biting even at your fingers, though you do not seem bothered by such ferocity. There is, perhaps, some kind of beauty he can find in violence. “They’re all he eats. Isn’t that amusing?” You giggle once more. 

It is, he murmurs - though he’s unsure if it is in his head or through his lips; and you pay him little mind besides the knee of yours which presses just so gently, a kiss of butterfly’s wings, against his thigh. 

Your head snaps towards his visage after a sharp breath that startles him from his trance; He’s struck with that same freezing arrest when your eyes bore into his own, reading his mind as you so oft tend to, and smiling so very sweetly, “What shall we name him, Jace?” 

Your voice is grounding, though Jacaerys has been struck with some curling alarm - what has he done, kissing a girl below his station just for the whim of it? 

What would his mother say, if she saw him spilling his thoughts to you, laughing with you, fraternizing with you - tainting you so with his kiss, marring your innocuous disposition, though he can offer no promises along with his company, nor his embrace? 

Where has his pride taken him - willing so easily to act upon each of his basest desires, simply to fill the growing void of disconnect with his family within the castle? Simply because a woman is here, and kind, and caring; simply because it is you? 

In your face, there is no turmoil; a gentle calm, some stoicism that brings his heart back to a normal pace, though it skips a beat when you smile at him. 

“I’m thinking…Shadow,” You hum, watching the cat trail away, tail curling around the stalk of the bark and disappearing into the shrubs once more. 

He’s pulled from his wallowing, watching the distinct pace of the cat disappear, fingers tingling, heart thumping. “Very fitting.” He decides absently, staring at the dark shade through which the creature has slithered away to. 

The name feels ominous, nearly familiar on his tongue - and with a swallow, he nods. “Shadow,” he repeats into the breeze of day. 

Quite a curious name.

translations: sȳndor - shadow. taglist/moots: @softspiderling @lukehughes43 @rhea-ripley @dipperscavern @useralba @writtenapoiogy @fyrewept @oldtowrs @bryscorner @chloe-petrichors @jottositto @solavita @earth4angels @benjinotes @divinesolas @hxtd @astrxq @housetargaryenloyalist @bucksplum @v3lary0ns @princessvelaryon @princessbellecerise @still-jon-snow @cregnstark @vee-mage @elaena-aerrin @mckennah123 @xxselenite @smurfelle @alyssa-dayne @uhnanix @house-celtigar @ficlovegirlie @cregan-starks @manhandlememando @inkandarsenic

[lunarfleur]

Up Til Midnight ~ Earth 42! Miles Morales

Summary: “Miles?” “Yeah, baby?”

Tagging: @juneberrie @sluggmuffin @hiyaitssans @nagi3seastorm @kombuuuu @urfavnegronerd @luvjunie @n1cole-ghost @conitagray @milesmolasses

Warnings:None!

A/N:I’m…gone. This might be ass but idc

This is x gender neutral reader!

“Miles?”

“Yeah, baby?”

It was dark, and completely silent aside from the crickets and cars and planes you could hear from outside the window. His room was pitch black. Your phones sat on his desk, away from access. He laid on his bed, you laid on his chest. His hand snaked under your shirt, caressing the skin with his finger. It sent goosebumps in his path.

“The future.”

“What about it?”

“What’s it gonna be like?”

“I’m gonna marry you.”

It was a instant answer. Clearly, Miles had thought about it before. He didn’t hesitate, not even a little bit.

Miles squeezed you tighter, and you thought on the subject. Your mind went to the fights you two have had, the ones where you got heated over nothing. You didn’t want to be that couple who screams over the dishes and laundry.

“Marriage? Really?”

“Yeah.”

Miles nodded his head before kissing yours, rubbing your shoulder with his arm. He smelled clean, having just showered before you two laid down.

“How do you know you’ll want to when the time comes?”

“I just do.”

“How?”

Miles sighed, moving his other hand to rest behind his head. His hand traced up and down your sides, squeezing your hip.

“There’s a difference between loving and being in love, baby.”

He learned the difference not too long ago. When he realized that his mother loved you like a second child, having you over when he’s not home. When he realized that he wants everything with you. When he realized he missed you any time you were gone, even if you were just a fee feet away. Miles was in love.

“Well, which is it?”

Miles chuckled, shaking his head. You craned your neck to look at him. He looked back at you, beautiful doe eyes that made your heart flutter. Him, with his freckles and long eyelashes.

“Come here, baby, let me love on you.”

“Nooo, which is it?”

He attempted to sit up, to pull with into him. He just wanted to kiss on you, to hold you until you both fell asleep.

“I’ll tell you after you get on up here and let me love on you.”

You frowned at him, but still let him pull you into his lap. He wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your neck and inhaling.

He kissed at your neck, then your jaw, then your cheeks. He peppered the softest kisses to your face, letting his hands wander over your body.

He bumped noses with you, smiling. Then, Miles kissed your lips. It was sleepy, and gentle, and soft. He kept pulling you closer and closer. You let him.

“I love you,” he mumble against your lips.

“I love you,” you replied.

You two stayed like that, holding each other. For 10 minutes he kept you in his lap silently, rubbing your back while you kissed his neck.

“Miles?”

“Mhm?”

“Do you really want to marry me?”

“Yeah, baby.”

“Why?”

He hummed sleepily, thinking about the best answer. You waited, staring at him and fidgeting with the edge of his braid. He rested his head on your shoulder, looking towards the door.

“Because I know the difference between loving and being in love.”

“Which is it?” You asked again.

“Both.”

[kairiscorner]

hiii can you write a e42 miles (or both Idc) where they been dating for some time but we still haven’t meet rio and for some reason rio doesn’t know he got a gf, so one day Rio and us meet and we talk to her and after like a while we become like friends yk and she’s like you shoudl meet my son and you can do whatever you want with that thxxxx <33333

OHHHH SURE SURE ANON !! I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS <333

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

my son would love you. — miles 42 x reader

you waited by your parents' offices, what with the two of them being doctors, they were constantly busy and had a lot on their plates. you were just scrolling through your phone as you were seated down by the waiting area, patiently listening to the ticking of the clock's hands as the seconds passed by, getting closer and closer to the end of their office hours.

your attention was completely on your phone, not really minding anything else until you heard the clatter of some medical equipment by the small trolley this female nurse with long, dark curly hair was pushing. she accidentally bumped the trolley against the wall as she made way for the patients passing by her–she muttered to herself in spanish as she hurriedly crouched down to pick it all up.

looking up from your phone, you felt bad for the woman–you decided to help her as you got to your feet and began making your way towards her. you crouched down next to her and handed her the tongue depressors and gauzes you found sprawled on the floor. you handed them to her with a gentle smile, and you soon saw her smiling back. there was something about this woman that felt reminiscent of someone dear in your life, but you couldn't figure out who or why you were drawing that connection out of nowhere, but as you were thinking, the woman had thanked you repeatedly for your help.

"it's no problem, really, i'm just glad you didn't have to clean this all up on your own." you said with a gentle voice as the woman helped you get up on your feet. the woman smiled at you as she looked at you up and down. "such a kind soul you are, really, i can't thank you enough. say, you seem a bit familiar, do you by any chance attend brooklyn visions academy?" she asked you as you nodded. her smile widened as she witnessed your affirmation. "oh! that's wonderful, my son attends that school, too. you'd love him, he's just like you. though dare i say, he's a little cranky sometimes." she says with a chuckle as you chuckled back, being reminded of a certain boy you knew who was incredibly cranky during mornings when anyone but you would talk to him.

"that'd be nice, though, i... i kinda have a boyfriend already." you told her as her smiling expression morphed into one of surprise. "oh... oh, that's okay. you don't have to think of it that way, you guys can be friends." she said as her smile returned; she introduced herself to you as rio morales, and you introduced yourself to her–she found your name very fitting for a person as beautiful and kind as you, no wonder your parents named you that name. you spoke with that woman as you waited for your parents to finish up–with the two of you sharing about yourselves, your hobbies, and a certain person you two had deemed to be very important in your lives. you enjoyed rio's company and keeping her company, and these little exchanges and late night conversations between you two would go on for a few weeks–almost a whole month–until rio had mustered up the courage to ask you and your family if you could come have dinner with them.

your parents were okay with it, they did want some time away from work anyway and more time with you; and the thought of dining at their coworker's place intrigued them, they were more than willing to come over, and so were you. as your family neared the apartment unit where rio's family lived, you heard a barrage of voices inside–three voices to be exact. rio's voice surfaced compared to the other two, whose voices were male–one of which you swore you heard before, a voice you were far too familiar with. rio spoke out in spanish to one of the males there to open the door for the guests since she was busy making sure the food wouldn't burn.

footsteps were heard from the other end as the door's mechanisms clicked and the doorknob turned, and behind the door was rio's son, the young boy who bore the surname 'morales', and... was your boyfriend. the boy greeted your family, looking up at your parents first until he turned and saw you. his face became flustered almost immediately, his eyes going wide and his mouth hanging open as the words he was meant to utter just fell flat and his voice had ultimately gone mute. his uncle from inside the unit had called out to miles, gesturing to him to let your family in, breaking him out of his trance. he stepped aside and opened the door wider for you and your family to enter, with his gaze following your own bashful and surprised one.

"good... evening to you, my mom's new friend." he said with a slight smile as you chuckled and nodded. "you too... mrs. morales' son, handsome son, might i add. she says so, they were her words, not mine." you said in a teasing manner as miles felt even more sheepish and chuckled, thinking that, out of all the people in the universe... his partner had to befriend his own mother, without either one of your parents knowing you both were more than just strangers towards each other.

tags !! @k4tsu3 @onginlove @fiannee @luvstarrstruck @toneystank-3000 @ii01vq @maxoloqy @popeheywardssecretgf @lovefrominaya @solecitoszn @meowmoraless @conitagray

[user73817]

matt dn fic

y/n is in the trenches of a situationship with early mid 2000s unintentional male manipulator loser gamer boy matt

cw: semi-toxic relationship, rough sex, choking, he cums in you (cw needed (?)), a lot of run on sentences idc

afab!reader, reader referred to as a 'girlfriend'

~ 500 words

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

He always says it as he cums inside of you, almost inaudible, sliding off his tongue like another breath. “I love you.” he says. Yet, when morning comes, you always wake up to an empty bed. 

In the dead of night he touches you so gently, whispers so kindly into your ear, feels the inside of your mouth with the very same tongue he uses to kick you out in the morning. When he says “I love you”, and fucks you like he means it, you really believe it. 

But when he acts like you're his dirty secret when morning comes, talks bad about you to your face and behind your back, and has those nights where he fucks you hard with his hand tight around your throat, and only bothers to undo the fly of his jeans, pulling his cock out of his boxers, and leaving his belt to bang up the inside of your thighs as he carelessly uses you for his own gratification, you can't help but feel like just his whore. It’s on those nights when he doesn't even grant you the privilege of staying over for the night, or a ride back to your place, when you walk home in the cold night, scantily dressed, with your ripped tights on, shivering with the beginnings of fingertip shaped bruises on your neck and waist, your underwear wet with his cum, lip gloss nothing but a smeared pinkish tint all around your lips, and mascara running down your face, that you wonder if he just says the words “I love you” to keep you complacent and always returning to his unmade bed. 

But there’s always such a sincere look on his face when he spends time with you beyond the realm of his dingy bedroom, the way he hangs onto every word you say even when he couldn't care less about whatever topic you talk to him about, laughing at all your jokes, even when they're not funny, and the way he always wants you around even if he’s just mindlessly gaming all day. Matt even asks for your help when he dyes his hair with that shitty black box dye. He always tells you to leave when Mello comes over to his place, yet seems to like the way you and Mello get along. You can never quite wrap your mind around the way you’ll spend a night crying and alone, wondering if you mean anything at all to Matt beyond a good fuck, and then the very next morning he’ll wrap his arms around you and kiss the back of your bruised neck as you make coffee in his kitchen. 

You’d think he barely considers you a close friend, and you certainly aren't his girlfriend, but he’s always your most recent text message and phone call, and it feels like you spend more time with him than you do anyone else in your life. He once told you that you, Mello, and his plug were the three people he sees the most often. Yet nothing ever changes between the two of you, he never gets serious with you, never pulls you close, but never pushes you away either, always keeps you just at arm's length. You spend so much time with him but it still feels like you know nothing about him. You just don't get him at all.

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

moral of the story - matt is probably your boyfriend and just bad at communication (mf got a 3/10 in social skills) but honestly who knows with that guy

[clemymimi]

So listen. Kokushibo loves that muzan can read his mind because that way muzan knows him very well without kokushibo having to utter a single word. Michikatsu struggles tremendously with voicing his emotions and feelings because he was taught to ignore them. Hence uttering them makes him uncomfortable.

The same thing is kinda when it comes to his purpose on life. When he dies, his last words were: "why was I even born?" The whole purpose of his character is that he lacks self-worth and a purpose in life.

When he learned about the affect of the demon slayer mark, michikatsu lost his purpose (once again) (I'm skimming over his purpose as the oldest. As the clan leader, as samurai (these were all screwed over by yoriichi (accidentally) and the existence of the demons)

So he was extremely vulnerable when muzan encountered him. Muzan offered michi quite a bit but what stuck with michikatsu was the new PURPOSE muzan was offering him and michi clung to it with such vigor, no wonder he does everything he can to maintain it. No wonder he is so adamant on maintaining the rules of hierarchy??

So yes, a michikatsu without purpose could be assisted with having concrete orders to follow. Michikatsu has strong and simple convictions that when he is unsure or uncertain of something, he stumbles HARD

Michikatsu HATES not knowing what to do. He HATES being forced with a moral dilemma. he HATES that he can't decide whether he loves or hates yoriichi (because yoriichis entire being just rubs him the wrong way, his brother seldolmly makes sense to him) there is little wonder that his own misunderstanding of yoris character and his frustrations at being unable to understand him cause for him to hate yoriichi. (YoriichI is kind of a freigeist, an idealist who does what he wants, who lives and loves freely and who acts so far out of his eras typical behaviour michikatsu does not understand him one bit and he HATES it.

Michikatsu is also someone who naturally observes and categorises the world

Quote: "those who have never experienced jealousy haven't met those in gods favour yet" (or sth) he deliberately separates humanity based on his own interpretation, he sees the bigger picture and as he is someone who always tries to see the bigger picture and make sense of the world, his own PURPOSE in the world is of great importance to him.

When he lacks that purpose, it helps him when he has orders that he can follow because it gives him at least a temporary purpose and respite. This is why he finds muzan so comforting. Muzan is predictable. Kokushibo UNDERSTANDS muzan. Kokushibo LIKES understanding things. Additionally muzan LOVES giving orders, LOVES gifting purpose to things, he is exactly what kokushibo needs. Kokushibo and muzan are both red flags at this point BUT THEY HELP EACH OTHER

muzan loves ordering people around. Kokushibo loves being ordered around. Muzan loves giving things meaning. Kokushibo loves it when things have meaning. Muzan likes being invasive when it comes to his subordinates and be absolutely certain of their loyalty, kokushibo NEEDS to be pushed when it comes to his communication. He finds RELIEF in muzans invasive nature. Muzan and kokushibo are just soulmates, ride or die, idc, give michi orders and a purpose and he happy

[corwnvus]

people and especially women of color are allowed to dislike regulus and any death eaters. you are white as i have literally seen you before and you don’t get to tell people what does & doesn’t make them uncomfortable. many people don’t and can’t sympathize with bigotry even if fictional bc or their own experiences. but it is easy for you to look past it bc you don’t face that.

I never said you cant hate regulus. Hate him idc ill still draw him. The problem is when you come into my asks and say you don't like him. I don't like oranges or people who drive big cars, I don't go around telling people who like oranges or big cars they are awful. Oppression on my skin colour isn't somthing I face but I'm a disabled, queer trans man... I've faced Oppression. Also I know regulus and barty and even and bellatrix... eta are awful people, I don't shy away from talking about that and making sure that is seen and portrayed in my art.... but im not gonna hold a fictional character accountable???

You are gonna hate the other characters I like in other fandoms... (sa, genocide, murder, abuse, kidnaping, torture) just cus I think characters are interesting dosnt mean I adopt their morals.... how long have you been in fandoms? Why are we acting like liking bad characters is a bad thing now?

This all started cus I told someone who likes my jily art but hates my jegulus art to scroll past it.... people need to get a hobby or like a job or a pet idc at this point

[mediumgayitalian]

fic rec friday 11

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday (i know it's tuesday that's my bad 💀). every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

and if you're warm, then you can't relate to me by remrose

They get stuck outside from a 3AM fire alarm. “I call it the ten-pound-quilt.” Will winked like it was a secret, coming to a stop in front of Nico. “I lent it to one of my siblings once and he said it was like being suffocated by a wet cement pancake. I love it."

will 'problem causer and embarrassed about it' solace so so real. this fic is also stellar bc nico is lowkey aware how much will likes him. that is how the dynamic should be i think.

2. Those walls I built didn't even put up a fight by @sazandorable

"Is it morally okay to stab a medic with their own scissors?" Nico asked Cecil. (Not that he usually cared about morally okay, as Octavian might demonstrate.) Nico's three days in the infirmary go by faster than he'd thought, and Will just won't stop flirting.

bruh this fic made me LAUGH. it wholly deserves the nearly quarter million hits it has jfc. i 100% clicked for the 'jason is a very embarrassing and very supportive ally' tag and it TOTALLY lived up and it was hilarious. he is. will's characterization was SO SO good and the whole fic just had me giggling!!

3. this is my kingdom come by remrose

Five times Nico and Will pretended they were dating. College AU.

the slow and unnoticeable slide from fake dating to real dating. fucking kills me every time. like oh yeah maybe i do love you. maybe you are everything to me. maybe i do want to spend the rest of my life with you. maybe loving you is this easy. GOD. god. insert seinfield gif her bc it fucking gets to me alright. it gets to me.

4. Days Gone By by @ghostystarr

Everyone was afraid of him, the boy who could talk to ghosts. Will just really wanted to know if his goldfish was haunting him every time he used the bathroom. AU Solangelo.

i am a sucker for childhood friends to lovers alright. and modern au with medium nico is art. so what if it is on the nose. it is amusing. and posting this ghosty ass fic on halloween the year solangelo came out is fucking camp idc this author ate up.

5. Patience and Patients by skyrat

Will Solace didn't mean to get a crush on the most exasperating demigod he'd ever met. But once he started watching Nico di Angelo he couldn't turn away. The lines between intentions and feelings got blurred. But how do you tell if the guy you like feels the same way when he's never around?

will having a crush on nico for a thousand years is literally my favourite trope like i love him actually. his pining ass will never get old! it will never get old. i will never get tired of reading it. also this is unrelated but i read this for the first time the day it was posting, which was the Day after i turned twelve lol time truly flies.

thank you for joining me this saturday tuesday sh don't worry about the actual date friday!! happy reading!!

[hoes4hoseok]

enhypen as midnights

txt version ☆ folklore version ☆ masterlist

it feels like it's been ages (because it's been nearly NINE MONTHS) since i've done an enhypen x taylor post but here it is! i feel kind of nervous posting this but whatever, i just gotta hit the button at some point.

sunghoon as snow on the beach

"you wanting me tonight feels impossible, but it's coming down, no sound, it's all around, like snow on the beach"

falling for sunghoon would feel so tragic at first because you'd think there's just no way he likes you back?? 😭

&& it'd consume a lot of your time just thinking about what it would be like if it did

so when you'd realize that he does when he finally tells you?? it'd feel magical

&&, not to be extremely literal, but a kiss on a snowy beach with sunghoon?? that WOULD be magical

initially, i considered having sunghoon being maroon instead of this song, so tell me what you think!

jay as midnight rain

"he was sunshine, i was midnight rain"

jay is ambitious. so for the record, i'm not saying that he isn't.

however, if you were dating him while he was already successful (aka now) & you weren't where you wanted to be, i think it'd naturally cause a rift like this song describes

&& sometimes, you'd look back & think about the life you would've had together

but ultimately, it may be for the best that you broke up because you wouldn't have been able to pursue your dreams together

(i do not wish this fate on any of you.)

ni-ki as question...?

"i don't remember who i was before you painted all my nights a color i've searched for since"

seeing ni-ki after you broke up would f with your head

not because he did anything on purpose, but because it would be really freaking hard to see him and think about him being with someone else

&& you'd hope that no one compares to what you & him had for him, because that's how you feel

but in reality, you'll never know

&& eventually, hopefully you'd move on. or run back to him? there's no moral of the story here.

sunoo as karma

"karma's a relaxing thought, aren't you envious that for you it's not?"

this song focuses on good things karma has brought to him rather than bad things it’s brought others

&& i think that’s a mindset sunoo would/does share

sunoo minds his business & good things come to him (in this case, you! you're the good thing that came to him!)

it’s been happening since i-land era we KNOW 👏(idc he was popular for a reason)

jungwon as sweet nothing

"outside, they're push & shoving, you're in the kitchen humming, all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing"

is anyone surprised by my choices for jungwon anymore? because these are so predictable i swear LMFAO

so i chose this song because jungwon seems like the type to not hold you to the same high standards that everyone else does

&& you'd be able to do the same for him, especially since he probably feels a lot of responsibility as the leader of the group

he'd give you that feeling of it not mattering what everyone else thinks because you have each other 🤧

heeseung as paris

"romance is not dead if you keep it just yours"

having a private relationship with heeseung is probably in the top 10 most romantic things ever 🫶🏽

so romantic that it feels like everything else fades away when you’re together & you’re somewhere else 😭

&& you wouldn’t have to put a ton of work into keeping that up because yeah, sometimes the relationship doesn’t feel like paris

&& that’s okay. it’s worth it for the good times :)

jake as glitch

"a brief interruption, a slight malfunction, i'd go back to wanting dudes who give nothing"

falling for jake when you're used to people who treat you like trash would feel so unreal

because that man would be such a good boyfriend <3

&& when that happens you'd kind of second guess whether you deserve to be treated that well

&& it would feel like something that isn't supposed to happen & you'd suspect that you'll return to the pattern of trash guys "after him"

but you deserve him & you deserve to be happy,, & he'd make that very clear to you in his actions and words

txt version ☆ folklore version ☆ masterlist

[1lenii]

Hey im that mystery anon again <3 So not a request just thought i wanted to share, this Friday i went to a bbq with my uncles and cousins (me being the only girl) and I couldn’t daydream about Miles with a shy girly s/o who completely turns around when she is with her family and becomes all motherly yet play-fights and sings rancheras with her uncles while cooking. The dream life <3 Can’t imagine Miles (E-42) confusion at his sweet gf suddenly all out

Ⰶ BBQ SURPRISE Ⰶ

Miles G Morales x F!Latina!Reader

Ⰶ Hii lovely<3, I CONSIDER THIS A REQUEST IDC. SO. basically made a oneshot(?)cs why not? My mind if filled with a bunch of what ifs so here are some hcs or not :)

Ⰶ Do enjoy!

Ⰶhonestly Js fluff! No warning that I know off

Ⰶ Y/N is still getting use to Miles as they recently started dating, keep this in mind so it can make sense!!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Y/N gets a text from her mami, that’s theres gonna be a family cookout and to, QUOTE “trae al moreno lindo tuyo”

Y/N is like ‘why not’, so she does exactly that, struggling to tell Miles, what was planned for the day

Miles being the loving boyfriend he is, is rubbing her back encouraging to speak up from her reserved nature

With that Y/N says “I want you to come with me to my family cook out!”

Miles is like how ironic cause you already went to his now it’s his turn to go to yours

Otw there Y/N is kinda nervous cause I mean this is gonna be the first time Miles meets her family officially WHO WOULDNT BE NERVOUS

They get to the house/park it was being hosted at and going into the open space the couple is greeted with a bunch of “Y/N’s HERE!” Coming from a few younger cousins

The kids and the same age and older cousins greet their favorite cousin so yk how that goes, some how Miles manages to end up at edge of the circle around his girlfriend

Miles is like “:0” cause he didn’t know she could be such a extrovert(????????)

Miles is greeted by Y/N mom and aunt as they laugh at his surprise and here come the boss lady saying “didn’t know y/n was like that did you?” Mother dearest says laughing and nudging him to have a seat

“No I did not” he chuckles

After that commotion Y/N goes back to miles ONLY TO BE CALLED BY HER UNCLE pulling her away from miles for the 2nd time this night!

“Mi sobrina favorita!! We need you on los papás y hamburguesas!” Her uncles calls out, and you can literally hear the other children groan at the “favorite”

“Ya vengo” y/n says now pulling her hair behind her ear and into a loose bun(anyone else tries less when tying their hair when it’s curly??)

Miles watches I’m awe forgetting what he was about to tell her as she ties a apron from one of the lost chairs and makes her way to her uncle.

Miles just smirks taking mental notes of Y/N habits when she’s let loose, also making sure he’s the first in line for his Girls cooking🥰how cute

The eating and mingling portion is done now it’s later in the afternoon and on of Y/N older cousin calls out (I ran out of options) “who wanna shadow box”

“THAT MEANS YOU Y/N” your cousin yells from the other side of the yard

“I HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME” Y/N calls out making her way to the group of cousins bringing miles along

Miles takes out his phone to record and Mayb post later and when Y/N litterally annihilates getting a 3 for 3

“OHHHHHH” miles hears eb say (LMFAO having tm fun)

And with that the night was spent, and yk they otw home

I kid you not Miles would turn to you and challenge you

“Match me rn”

“Huh??” Y/N is dumbfounded she so confused

“Juega me”

“Me? Oh no I can’t I could possibly-“

“Oh tu si puedes”

And ya would get home to find miles crumbling in defeat LMFAO

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This was fun, maybe not exactly BUT YK WHAT? I had fun writing this so idc!

Don’t be afraid to submit something, I’ll literally make anything out of limit sources<3