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fayes-fics · 2 years ago

Text

(Be)Longing

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Mutual rescue, mutual jealousy, longing and belonging.

Warnings: None, really. Angst, jealousy, fluff. Shyness and insecurities. Minor character injuries. Time jumps.

Word Count: 5.2k

Authors Note: This is an anon request fill here (request: Benedict x shy!insecure reader, with some angst, jealousy fluff, and all the good stuff. Happy ending, of course.). Sorry it took so long to get to this Nonny; I have no idea if this is what you wanted, and I'm really not sure about it, but I hope you enjoy <3

I: Saved

“Unhand her at once!”

The smooth, confident, older voice rings out across the village green, and suddenly the pack of nasty bullies who have your arms in a grip seem to melt away from around you.

You don’t even think to pause and thank the person who broke up the mob. No, your fight-or-flight response is in full-on flight mode. The minute your arms are released, and you see the break in the circle, you run. Run as fast as your legs will carry you. Bolting down the road and into the safety of the churchyard near your house. You do not want to run home upset and worry your mother, so you do the next best thing, the thing you are becoming increasingly good at, hiding. You climb a crabapple tree. And then you let the tears flow—just flooding down your cheeks.

You hate this new village your parents have moved you to. Your father, a doctor, had been offered the position as village physician, and now here you are, moved from Surrey to Kent, but it might as well be the other side of the world. You miss your friends. You miss your old village. You are not the most outgoing of people, and the upheaval in your life has been immense. You yearn to be back in your old, familiar, comfortable home.

You are sniffling, taking deep breaths, angrily wiping tears, and preparing to face your family when he appears.

“Are you alright?”

You startle. Beneath you, squinting up into the tree, is the owner of the voice who rescued you. Seeing him now, you feel an odd warmth in your ribs. He looks older, maybe fifteen, if you had to guess. He seems benign with a calm face, and his expression is one of sympathy and concern.

“Yes,” you squeak quietly.

“It is safe for you to come down,” he says gently, “should you wish.”

“Are they gone?” you query, wishing you could hide the tremble in your voice.

“They will not bother you again; I can assure you,” he states with absolute certainty.

Your eyes go wide, “What did you do? I don't want to make it worse for my brother,” you fret.

“I told them if they mess with you again, they will have the Bridgerton brothers to contend with,” he nods, with an air that suggests the name is of some local import.

“Is that you?” you ask timidly, not wanting to get down from the tree just yet.

He chuckles. “You must be new here?”

“Yes… we just moved here two weeks ago. Those boys have been tormenting my brother since his first day at school. They appear to have chosen me to pick on as he is not around,” you frown, dusting a twig from your skirt.

“Well, that ends now. Now, do you need help down?” he asks.

“No,” you sniffle, “I am capable.”

“I wouldn't doubt it,” he nods politely and steps aside to allow you space to jump down.

With a quick swing, you do so, landing neatly on your little brown boots. You unfurl to your full standing height, but even then, you have to crane your neck to look up at him.

“Very impressive,” he smiles warmly. “I am Benedict. Benedict Bridgerton. Welcome to Kent.” he thrusts out a hand to shake and, bemused at the formality, you take it and shake as if a businessman, not a ten-year-old girl.

“Thank you, Benedict. I am y/n y/l/n. My father is the new physician,” you gesture vaguely over the church wall towards your home next to the rectory.

“Ahhh,” he nods in understanding.

“And thank you,” you curtsy.

“Whatever for?” he frowns.

“For rescuing me,” you clarify.

“Oh please, that was nothing,” he waves dismissively. “I cannot abide bullies. Or any injustice really,” his eyes appear briefly unfixed, and he looks thoughtful, as if what he said just occurred to him as truth. Then he shakes his head and brings his attention back to you. “You are alright, though, correct? Able to get home?”

“Yes,” you confirm shyly.

“Then I shall be on my way” he tips an imaginary cap at you that makes you giggle, and he smiles goofily before turning away and walking out of the churchyard.

A little part of your heart yearns to follow him, the boy with the hazy, kind eyes and the pleasing smile, who just made your transition into life in the area much more bearable.

You and your brother are never bothered by that gang of boys again.

II: Envy

“Y/n, this is Miss Clarissa Worthing.”

Benedict introduces you to the willowy blonde whose hand is looped through the crook of his arm.

“Clarissa, this is Miss y/n y/l/n. She will beat half of my family at Pall Mall once you can coax her out of her shell,” he teases delicately with a friendly glint in his eye that makes your heart flutter against your ribcage.

Clarissa nods in cool acknowledgement, then cranes her neck to whisper something, her lips brushing his earlobe, her regard for you already gone. You curtsy politely, smile weakly and scurry away, feeling clumsy and out of place, unsure of what else to say to this swan-like beauty.

It's the summer after your fifteenth birthday, and he is back from his second year of university. It doesn't take much to deduce that this is the lady he is currently courting, accompanying him as she is to a garden party at Aubrey Hall. Jealousy clings to your skin like an invisible oily substance and taints your every thought.

Ever since that fateful day when he chased away your bullies, you have carried a torch for Benedict. The year after that incident, you sadly have to attend his father's funeral. Your own father unable to save the Viscount’s life. The forlornness on Benedict’s face as he stood there in the chilly church made your chest ache. You didn’t fully understand why at the time, but your impulse was to go up and wordlessly hold his hand. He looked so utterly unmoored and sad. You didn't, of course; you would never be so bold, but the impulse was so strong, a tingle on your palm that needed to touch him. It was all you could think about for days.

Over the intervening years, your soft spot for him grew with every encounter, the childish admiration morphing into something stronger, a deep-rooted longing. He always seemed to be the one who cared the most—about his siblings, his mum, and even the problems of the wider world. And as your body started to change and you began to feel differently about boys, your feelings for him had another layer of confusing complexity. His was the first face that popped into your head when your friends giggled about boys and talked of marriage.

Even now, it seems ridiculous to entertain that he would ever pursue you… you are stuck in small village life, the daughter of a doctor, not from a noble family, and he is off in the world, experiencing things you have no notion of. And yet he is the only man you have ever met who intrigues you that way. The idea of marriage not being entirely abhorrent, provided it is to him.

And so you just watch—the perpetual wallflower. Watch as Benedict and Clarissa make the circuit of the party. Effortlessly chatting among various members of the Ton, looking like the picture-perfect young couple.

“Makes you sick, doesn't it?” Eloise’s dry tone pops over your shoulder.

You smile at Benedict's little sister, just a couple of years younger than you and a kindred spirit at these events, mostly wanting nothing to do with them.

“She is very beautiful,” you offer politely, sipping your lemonade.

“She steals,” Eloise states plainly, making you splutter your drink all over your face and dress, the little immediate crowd of attention it draws to you mortifying. Luckily Benefict is far enough away and otherwise engaged that he does not see it. You are not sure you could live that down.

“That's a scandalous thing to say,” you hiss softly as you blush under the attention of a few strangers and furtively clean yourself with a serviette as best you can.

“Tell that to mother’s silk gloves,” Eloise volleys back, her disgust evident. Apparently oblivious to your embarrassing predicament or perhaps just uncaring of what others think. “She will be gone before the weekend is out, mark my words.”

You don't doubt it, knowing how spirited Eloise is. And how well she has her brother's ear. You know he will instinctively trust what she says as truth. As she marches up to grab his arm and pull him away, mostly, you wish you had more of her bravado, her fearlessness. While you agree with her outlook on many things, you are not built of the mettle she is—not one who draws attention. Still, you watch with a twisted, guilty, but victorious smile as Eloise pulls Benedict aside and has words with him.

You never hear of Miss Clarissa Worthing again.

III: Jealousy

“Lord Boswell would be a wonderful match, my dear,” your mother smiles encouragingly, handing you a slice of lemon drizzle cake.

You can't hide the curl of your lip at the mere thought.

It's the morning after the first ball of the season, just after your twentieth birthday, and you are in the London townhouse your parents have rented for the season, awaiting any suitors to call. Less than three days into your first season, you want the merry-go-round to stop. A dizzying whirl of social engagements you feel unequipped to deal with, wanting nothing more than to be back in Kent, stealing into the grounds of Aubrey Hall with a good book. Perhaps even spend time with Benedict.

Just the very thought of him causes a flare in your belly. Since his return from his studies in Cambridge, he has seemingly moved to Aubrey Hall full-time, spending his days painting the Kentish countryside with hopes of establishing himself as an artist. You have spent more time together in the last year or so than ever before, often finding yourself reading quietly in the shade with Eloise as he paints nearby, his company always somehow a balm as much as a thrill. And it feels as if there has been a subtle shift in how he regards you, giving you the unbearable lightness of hope. Perhaps he sees you in a different light now that you have come of age, no longer the child you were. There have been some moments where he has looked at you and felt it, like a weight on your skin; even as you doubt many other things about yourself, you don't doubt there is something there—a most wondrous and perplexing development.

Your butler bustles in and announces something that makes your heart leap into your throat.

“Mr Benedict Bridgerton has arrived.”

Your mother's eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, giving you a sideways glance. A Bridgerton, even if not the Viscount, would be more than sufficient in her eyes. Especially one known so well to your family.

“To call on Miss y/l/n?” your mother asks, excitement evident in the breathy question.

“Oh no, ma’am, apologies. To see your husband. His brother, the Viscount, has dispatched him here to talk about some business in Kent,” your butler explains, somewhat apologetic as he realises the misconstrued intent.

Your mother’s disappointed face is only a match for your roiling stomach.

Your father folds his newspaper and jumps up. “I shall meet with him in my study, Jenkins. Please show him there,” and with a nod to you both, he leaves.

It has been just two days since your presentation to the Queen. That had been a waking nightmare. Parading down a long hallway at the Palace to be presented to her majesty filled you with utter dread. All eyes upon you, your every move and inch of appearance judged, and you are certain you were found lacking. Your status is unknown in the Ton; your parents pushing you into the season, hoping for an advantageous match. But you feel they could tell from one look where you belonged—almost invisible, on the periphery, a wallflower. Quiet, reserved, bookish, watching more than participating.

“Lord Boswell is here,” your butler reenters the room moments later.

Your stomach clenches. Your mother can barely contain her glee. You are so confused; you barely spoke two words to the man as you danced the previous night. Your conversation skills were utterly lacking, and he seemingly could not find an engaging topic to broach. You were keen for the music to end so you could return to standing and observing. You cannot believe that awkward interaction would be enough to propel the man to call on you, having said so little to each other just a few hours earlier. And yet here he is, a bunch of flowers in hand and a slightly vacant smile. The fleeting thought of marrying such a dull person makes you mildly nauseated.

Your mother hurries to the other side of the parlour and leaves you to converse, wearing a happy, hopeful expression that you hate to dash. And so you stumble the best you can through small talk. He talks of the weather, his property, and his interests but never asks anything about you—as if he is a candidate for a job you are interviewing for. In some ways, that is perhaps accurate, but part of you yearns for him to show interest in you, not just talk incessantly of himself.

Just as you give up hope of escaping anytime soon, you startle as he lays a hand on yours on the sofa between you. You don't even hear what he is saying anymore, just staring at where his glove covers yours, not liking the sensation, wanting to claw yourself away and withdraw.

Motion in the doorway makes you look up; Benedict is with your father. And suddenly, your heart is racing. Benedict looks taken aback; something sour in his expression you have never seen before makes you want to run to him and ask what is wrong. But you don't. You do the polite, reserved thing and smile.

“Mrs y/l/n, Lord Boswell,” he greets politely. “Miss y/l/n,” he adds, and you could swear he uses a different, lower register. Something inside you turns pulpy and ripe, blossoming just for him.

Before you know it, he has taken a seat on the sofa facing yours, shooting you the tiniest of winks that could be an eye twitch, but you know him better than that—seeing the sparkle of mischief in his eye. Your parents seem to exchange nonplussed glances, uncertain why he has chosen to stay.

“Boswell,” Benedict begins, shooting the man his most impervious glance. “What of your qualities make you an ideal suitor for Miss y/l/n here?” he questions.

Boswell splutters and seems taken aback, clearly not expecting such an interrogation, especially from a man who isn't your father or brother. Benedict’s eyes are back on you as the man stumbles through an inadequate and entirely uninteresting response that you do not even listen to. Your whole focus is on Benedict, feeling unable to breathe.

“Hmmm,” Benedict hums as he ends, “and what have you to say about Miss y/l/n’s interests? Are they perhaps complimentary to yours?”

“I… I did not think to ask,” Boswell falters, his cheeks reddening at the faux pas.

Benedict looks almost disgusted.

“You claim to be interested in providing your suit but ask nothing of what makes her the wonderful person she is?” he scolds, and your mouth opens into a little O of surprise. “Have you not asked her about her excellent marksmanship? How she can shoot an archery target better than anyone else within ten miles of Aubrey Hall? Have you not asked after her artistic skills? You see that cushion you sit next to? That is the work of her fair hand.”

You barely register as Boswell twists to look at the item and then at you; you have eyes for no one but Benedict as he continues, his voice loud and clear even over the sound of your heart pounding hard in your ears.

“Have you asked her about her love for literature and poetry? How she will correct you that it was, in fact, Guildenstern, not Rosencrantz, who enters first in the first folio version of Hamlet?”

You duck your head and blush. That is precisely what you did to him last year, surprising even yourself with your boldness. And he remembers.

He continues. “Have you asked about her love of animals? Perhaps you need to hear the tale of Mr Whiskers and how she was able to nurse the beloved cat of my sister Hyacinth back to health. You have not asked her of any such things?!?” his tone incredulous.

Even from the corner of your eye, you can tell that your parents’ faces are as shocked as Boswell’s. And suddenly, you recognise this as a Benedict Bridgerton you have seen before. It’s the one that comes out when defending those he loves against injustice or an unworthy opponent—the staunch guardian.

“If you cannot find it in yourself to show such interest, I would hope she will entertain better suitors,” Benedict sniffs dismissively. “As a long-term friend, I cannot in all good conscience allow this young woman to be pursued by anyone unworthy of her,” he concludes cuttingly, his nostrils flare, and his lip curls just a fraction as his eyes flit to where Boswell’s hand still rests upon yours.

Even as you struggle through your jumble of thoughts about everything he has said, one question so singular strikes you. Is this is Benedict….. jealous?? Jealous of your suitor? Finding ways to cut into him with his precise knowledge about you? The thought seems so fanciful that you want to dismiss it, but the sliver of possibility it offers is exhilarating. Just the chance of it being true has you utterly undone.

You barely even listen as your father jumps up and, with some belated sense of defence, agrees with Mr Bridgerton and asks Boswell if perhaps he should take his leave and return another day when he has thought of more engaging things to ask of you. Every fibre of your being yearns to talk to Benedict somewhere private, but he gives excuses to leave as quickly as your chastised suitor is dispatched.

Boswell never darkens your door again.

IV: Rescue

“Penny, for your thoughts,” Eloise smirks as she catches you staring into space on the terrace. Your cheeks blush, and you do not admit to where your thoughts had wandered—to her older brother.

“Will you come with me for a walk?” you ask, feeling the need to get away before you cross paths with the man who has occupied your thoughts more often than not of late.

It’s the week of the midsummer Hearts & Flowers ball at Aubrey Hall, and you are glad to have escaped the hubbub of the London scene and to be back in Kent for a few days' respite.

“No, I would prefer the company of Mary Shelley this afternoon,” she states airily, waving a book she holds.

So you set off alone, walking the grounds you now know so well. You are half an hour into your stroll, admiring the wildflowers along the eastern fringes of the grounds, not far from the village, when you see him approaching in the distance.

Benedict is riding his trusty horse and looks so majestic your chest constricts. Clothed in just a billowing white shirt and beige britches, you have rarely seen him look so informal. Or so very, very attractive. Your palms feel sweaty, and something stirs deep inside your body as you slink slightly into the treeline, hoping to remain unseen. A chance to merely observe this beautiful man, even knowing it is wrong to do so. To spy on him as such. Just as he draws close enough that you can see the flex of his leg muscles under the material, which causes all sorts of sensations in your body, a startled deer darts across the path and spooks his horse.

Time seems to slow as you watch his horse rear up and make the most terrible whinny of fear.

And then your heart is in your throat as you watch horrified as Benedict loses his grip on the reins in surprise and is thrown violently backwards to the ground.

Bile rises in your throat as you see how his body hits the dirt path, unable to brace for impact. The air fills with a blood-curdling scream that you belatedly realise is your own, and before you know it, you are sprinting. Sprinting towards him. Your whole focus narrows to his body splayed on the ground, worryingly still, as his horse bolts away. Heart pumping wildly and adrenaline coursing through your veins, you pull up to him and skid to your knees.

He is still conscious but barely. Moaning slightly.

“Do not move!” You bark, and even in his woozy state, he appears taken aback by your ferocity. “I mean it, Benedict!” you bite out as he attempts to move his arm.

He seems to mumble a noise of ascent as you try your best to assess any injuries, having learned some things from observing your father over the years, but you realise he needs proper medical attention. Where you are on the grounds, it’s closer to your home than Aubrey Hall.

“I am going to get my father,” you explain as calmly as you can, “for the love of God, Benedict, do NOT attempt to move until he gets here.”

A wan smile spreads across his face even as he winces in pain. “Hmm, fine. I promise to stay still,” he sighs, “....prefer to do it for the love of you…,” he mutters slurringly before he appears to pass out.

Knowing he has likely struck his head, you try your darndest to put what he said out of your mind. A head injury would be the only way to explain such a comment, even as you are praying he doesn't have one.

Heart still beating out of control, and not knowing what possesses you, you lean over and press the quickest shyest of kisses onto his lips—pulling back a few inches before he can even acknowledge it happened.

“Don’t you dare go anywhere on me, Benedict Bridgerton,” you whisper fiercely, just in time to see his eyes pop open, hazy and clouded with something you have never seen before. It’s not the pain he is in, though. And it’s not confusion, amusement or even irritation. It’s something else, so blisteringly intense your legs want to turn to jelly.

“I won’t, I promise,” he attests, his tone rough, ragged.

There are a couple of seconds where all you do is stare wildly at each other, and then, with a reassuring squeeze of his hand, you take off running. You have never run so far and so fast in your life; fear makes your muscles work harder than they ever have before. It’s probably only a few minutes, but it feels like a lifetime.

Your parents almost burst out of their skins in shock as you barrel into the house, panting wildly, wordlessly grabbing your father's medicine bag, and he reflexively springs into action.

You run to the stables and hurriedly hook up the long cart he uses when he needs to transport patients, and the look he shoots you is filled with concern.

“Who is it?” he asks as you climb aboard and direct him.

“Benedict,” you tremble, and there is a world of understanding in your father's eyes as he cracks the whip, and the horse jolts faster.

Perhaps your adoration is less concealed than you like to believe, but at this moment, you only care about getting him the help he needs. You are grateful your father doesn’t ask questions as you speed along.

And it becomes a blur as you reach the site, grateful Benedict laid still as you requested. Your father examines him and fires questions that are answered lucidly, tending to some immediate wounds and bandaging in places. Before you know it, you are helping your father with a canvas stretcher and insisting on sitting with Benedict in the back of the cart as your father takes the patient back to Aubrey Hall.

Never addressing the fact that you grip each other's hands so tight that both of your knuckles go white.

V: Belonging

“You can come in.”

Benedict’s voice calls out, bemused as you vacillate in the doorway, not realising that he can see you in a mirror reflection.

So at his invitation, you blush and scuttle into his room. Awkward, unsure what to do after your bold, daring, downright impertinent behaviour when he sustained his injuries. Part of you is hopeful he does not remember it.

It’s been two days, and he has made excellent progress under your father's watchful eye. The minute your father had pulled up at the house, you dropped your hold on his hand. And as word spread, it was a frenzy of activity that you found yourself superfluous to. The last you had seen was Benedict being carried inside for a more thorough examination.

Luckily, it turns out he has no lasting damage; his head was uninjured beyond a mild concussion. He is bruised all over, likely has some cracked ribs and has a sprained wrist, but he will be fine after some rest.

“H.. how are you?” your ask quietly, stilted, fiddling with your dress nervously.

“Much better,” his tone soft, “only because of you.”

You look up and meet his gentle gaze. “I merely did what anyone would have done,” you demure.

“Nonsense,” he counters, “you ordered me to stay still and await the doctor. If you weren’t there, I likely would have done myself additional injury being stubborn,” he points out dryly.

You don’t know what to say in response, so you change tack. “Is your horse alright?”

“Yes. Colin found him wandering around the wildflower meadow, munching on all manner of grasses. Never happier, completely uninjured,” he assures.

You nod, glad to hear the news. Then you allow the room to lapse into silence, unsure how to commence your profuse apology.

“I am very sor….”

He stops you with a bandaged hand held up.

“If you even begin to apologise for saving me, well then I shall be most vexed,” he chides, but there is no heat there, a lopsided grin tugging at his handsome features. “Besides, the more pertinent point of discussion is the fearless woman you can be when needed. The person you are becoming, when you allow yourself to, is quite something,” you bow your head as your cheeks heat at his praise. “I would have injured myself months before now had I known I would meet the creature who sits behind that cloud of shyness. Just look at what you did, taking change so very effectively,” he flatters then there is a pause. “Hell, even being brave enough to kiss me.”

Your head shoots up, and your mouth falls open.

“Oh yes,” he chuckles, “don’t think I forgot that part,” His voice has lowered to a pitch that buzzes right through your being.

“I… I was worried I… I was going to lose you,” you stutter, “and I-I’m sorry that was terrible of me to take liberties like that. Please, please forgive me?” you beseech.

“It was not in any sense of the word terrible,” he disputes, “the exact opposite. There is nothing to forgive. But there is one way you can make it up to me…?” he hedges.

“Anything, please,” you beg, so hopeful of absolution.

He holds out his hands and gestures for you to perch on the bed beside him. Almost without thought, you do so, even as you feel your pulse speeding up. You have rarely been this close, and now you are transfixed by all the tiny flecks of colour in his iris and the hints of stubble around his jaw.

“Kiss me again,” he requests; a finger trails lightly over the back of your hand. “But properly this time. Give me a chance to kiss you back.”

You just gawp at him in utter shock, heart pounding again, just like it was that day. You don't move away. You can't. Rooted to the spot. Unable to stop staring at his plush bottom lip.

“You cannot mean it…” you stutter when you finally find your tongue, disbelieving.

“Does this seem like I do not mean it?” he argues ardently, and before you know it, he is sitting up and leaning in.

And then warm lips touch yours, and fireworks explode inside your chest.

You feel like you are drowning in the very best way as your lips move together gently. Everything about the moment is sweet and light, but promising more, something tart that makes you want to climb atop him and crush yourself against him. Just as you feel the instinct to open your mouth to him, he pulls back, looking lost and found all at once.

“I need you to know something,” he begins, grabbing both your hands and placing them between his. “It pains me to see you ever doubting yourself or if you belong. You belong. Everywhere you go. You have so much to give to the world,” he states passionately.

“I… “ you falter, wanting to believe him, the version of you he sees.

“You do. Hell, you give me a reason to get up every day. To try. To be better. I would not be the artist I am now were it not for your words of encouragement as I painted all those afternoons.”

You are dumbstruck. You honestly didn't believe he was taking on board what you said. Mostly just encouraging him to follow his instincts when he seemed to doubt them.

“And now it’s time someone did the same for you. Be the encouragement you need. You deserve everything, y/n. And it would be my greatest honour to try to give it to you?” he adds, a gently loving smile lighting up his face.

Your heart sings as you realise this is the declaration you have been waiting half of your life to hear. Before you can stop yourself, you launch yourself at him, this time being the one to demand a kiss that he happily obliges.

“I have a question,” you state as your lips part, your boldness growing with every moment. “Mr Bridgerton, were you jealous when I had a suitor?” you tease, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

He chuckles and nuzzles your cheek. “My god, you have no idea.” You cant help the victorious giggle, basking in the fizz in your veins.

“I suppose it was payback for Ms Worthing. She of the ironic name. She was never worthy of you,” you state passionately.

He laughs with a headshake. “Perhaps it is our ability to rescue each other that makes us so best suited,” he opines. “I do believe we may belong together,” he adds.

And you couldn't agree more.

In fact, you are never alone again from that day on.

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ell-alexanderarnold · 1 year ago

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Everywhere I go leads me back to you

Summary: Two lovers with two different lives and there’s never ending arguments. Y/n asks herself if the relationship is worth saving. What happens when the two lovers paths starts to collide and goes the other direction?

Angst & Fluff

Note: Let me know your thoughts! <3

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You sat in the car, hands on the steering wheel and you stared at your engagement ring on your finger. You thought about how it was two years ago when you didn’t study, and were home all the time, always available for Trent. But he was not always available for you. You would travel to watch him play at Anfield and when he was playing away games, but nowadays you have to study really hard if you want to make it.

Then he proposed of course, you two were so madly in love. However, what happens when two lovers paths starts to collide and goes the other direction?

You and Trent hasn’t been able to catch up with each other for a while, and you miss him. You get sad when you think about it and sometimes you wish it could be how it was before you started studying.

You parked your car and noticed that Trent’s car also was parked, which was strange because you knew he had a game tonight.

You exited your car and then unlocked your door. You smelled that someone was cooking, that someone was Trent.

“Hello” You said and walked in the kitchen where Trent stood cooking.

“Hey love, you hungry?” He answered and smiled at you.

“Yeah, a little” You simply answered and Trent lead you to the dinner table where he had lit up candles for the dinner.

“Sit down the food’s almost ready” He soothed and kissed your forehead.

You were surprised but also happy that he did this with so much effort because of the little time you spend together these days.

”Wow T, I’m actually impressed” You praised as you started to eat, once again surprised by him.

He smiled in response as he joined you at the table. It almost felt surreal seeing Trent sitting in front of you, you finally got to get lost in his brown eyes again. Oh how you have missed looking into his eyes. In the middle of your admiration you remembered to ask him why he was home and not travelling to the game.

“Are you not playing tonight?” You asked and took a sip of your water and watched his eyebrows furrowed.

“Y/n the game is tomorrow” He confirmed and you put your glass down, almost in shock.

“Oh, I thought it was tonight” You nervously chuckled, and couldn’t believe how you could get it so wrong. Trent wasn’t bothered but you were. You realised how tired you really are from focusing on uni all the time.

“Well, it’s not easy for you to know babe” Trent comforted and grabbed your hand gently and drew small circles on your palm.

“What time are you leaving in the morning?” You implored, knowing that you’d probably won’t see each other for a few days so you wanted to be awake when he leaves, which means you have to sacrifice some hours of sleep. But you wanted to everything for him.

“I’ll leave at 7 ish” Trent answered and an idea popped up in his head.

“Want to come with me?” He added as you immediately panicked inside.

“Where to?” You wondered.

“We’re playing in the Europa League, Toulouse” He asserted and you scratched the back of your neck, something you always do when you’re anxious.

“I can’t, I have to study” You stated and watched his reaction, he wasn’t happy.

“Come on Y/n, can’t you study anywhere?” He pleaded and you knew that this was getting out of hands.

“You mean anywhere you are?” You sighed as you went to put your plate in the dishwasher.

“Please don’t be like that Y/n” Trent tutted and came up to you, giving you that look of disappointment.

“I really need to give it everything if I’m gonna make it Trent” You said and looked at him, and Trent of all people would know the sacrifices that has to be made if you want to make it.

“I understand, just wished that it would be like old times” He mumbled and sat down by the couch as you followed after him.

“Trent you’re saying that you miss when I was a failure, sitting on this couch all day waiting for you to come home and put a ring on my finger?” You snapped. Perhaps it was too much however, you couldn’t stand being in this position in the relationship any longer.

“Y/n, that’s not what I said” Trent said and scoffed as tears started forming in your eyes.

“It’s not about that it is that you don’t want me to have a life separate from yours! I can’t be available all the time Trent” You went on and Trent sat there and reminded himself that you also have a life that doesn’t revolve him.

“What about us then?” Trent spoke up and more tears streamed down your face and you shot a look at your engagement ring.

“I don’t anymore, I gave up something to be at uni and you should know what that’s like because your football is all that matters and all you have time for nowadays Trent” You defended and suddenly you felt your phone buzzing. You looked at Trent with a tear leaving your eye and went upstairs to answer the call.

Trent slammed the coffee table and started crying. Somewhere he felt that this was going to end and he couldn’t control it.

You sat in your shared bed studying, you didn’t have the energy to sit at your desk working. Trent packed his bag for tomorrow and the both of you haven’t spoken since a few hours ago. The silence was too much for you to handle so you sat with your airpods on full volume. You didn’t even know how much the clock was until you heard Trent turning the lights off downstairs.

You got up from the bed and put your books on your desk and then went to the bathroom. You brushed you teeth and you were lost in your thoughts and your music was still playing in your ears, you didn’t even notice Trent standing beside you brushing his teeth as well.

When you were done you looked over at him and saw that he was watching you too, you had to fight the urge to not hug him and absolutely sob into his chest. But Trent already knew how you felt and walked up to you and wrapped his arms around you. Although this time it wasn’t you who cried, it was Trent.

“Shh, it’ll be alright” You whispered and rubbed his back.

“You make it so difficult sometimes” Trent sniffled and let go of you. You were left in the bathroom struck with a such strong feeling of emptiness after he left.

You both sat at the edge of the bed, wishing some things were better left unsaid.

“Y/n” Trent called.

“Y/n” Trent called again.

“I heard you the first time” You taunted.

“We promised each other not to go to sleep angry” He said and you pulled the duvet over yourself preparing to sleep knowing it will take a while to fall asleep.

“Well, I guess some promises are made to be broken” You ended and turned of your bedside lamp.

–

Everything changed after that night. Trent came home after a loss against Toulouse, you wanted to comfort him the moment he stepped through the door. Trent was angry, he always was after a loss but this time it was different because of the situation between the two of you.

You two spoke a few times during the day but it was just small talks and it killed you.

It got more worse later in the day when you were preparing to sleep, Trent would start and argument and then it turned to not saying goodnight to each other anymore. Which you both always did before going to sleep despite an argument.

Now, you stopped saying goodnight and Trent stopped sleeping.

It was like torture to sleep next to him, every minute you thought about to whether sleep in the guest room or go downstairs to the kitchen to grab something to eat. You could hear Trent sighing and toss and turn, eventually he couldn’t take it anymore.

Trent got up from the bed and left your shared bedroom and closed the door quietly as he thought you were asleep.

You wanted to go after him, so you also left the bedroom. You heard noise from downstairs and you figured it was the tv, slowly walking down the stairs you could see him sitting in the couch, watching football highlights from the night.

You sat down, not too close to him but not so far away either. You watched the tv and the highlights showed a stunning goal which made Trent turn to you and say “What a goal that” He said and really you couldn’t believe him. Silence between the both of you for about three days and that’s the first thing he says to break the silence.

You turned your head to look at him, your eyes met and Trent’s lips curled into a small smile.

The whole situation was sentimental, and it was because the both of you knew. You two couldn’t work it out, no matter how hard you tried. The both of you live completely different lives, with different schedules. The only thing you could go back to was that you two have so much love for one another, and that’s what will always unite you and Trent in the end. But it has been this way for too long.

You looked at Trent and caressed his face, and you gave him a look that says everything he needs to know.

“At least we tried” You said, almost in a whisper and looked at your ring. It was filled with memories, and as you took it off it felt like your heart shattered. Tears streamed down your face as you handed Trent the ring. His hands were shaking as he received it, holding the ring that he thought would be stuck on your finger forever.

“Give it to someone who really deserves it T” You cried and he sniffed, looking at you with eyes filled with tears.

“But I only love you Y/n” He mumbled.

Trent thought that his biggest mistake of his life may be letting you go, letting you slip through his fingers just like that…

Two years later

You sat tense, waiting for the final whistle. They were almost crowned European champions. You were so proud of the team that they made it this far in the competition.

“Any minute now!” You exclaimed to your best friend beside you.

They won.

You celebrated with your friends and watched all the players run onto the pitch to their teammates who played the match. You could cry of happiness.

You watched Liverpool lift the trophy, fireworks and confetti were everywhere in the air. You watched the players get their medals and you saw him, getting his very own medal. He ran up to his family and they all hugged him.

Imagine if you were there with him.

And then he started to walk at your direction. He showed the fans the trophy with such pride and you always adored that side of him.

Without noticing he stood in front of the crowd that you was in, and he hardly even recognised you until he saw you. His heart stopped.

You looked up from your phone to see him standing there. Your friends were too caught up in their own conversation to notice you seeing Trent again after all these years.

You smiled at him and pointed at the trophy he was holding, he looked down at it then back at you and mouthed “Not bad”.

You smiled again and it felt like the time stopped and that is was only you and Trent in the stadium.

You couldn’t help but let a tear leave your eye, as you looked at him one last time.

You turned your back on him and dried your tears as you started to leave with your friends.

Trent didn’t move, he was still hoping for you to come back.

Maybe in another universe.

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #england x reader #footballer x reader #trent alexander arnold fluff #trent x reader #trent alexander arnold fanfic #trent alexander arnold imagines #trent alexander arnold one shot #trent imagine #trent alexander arnold fic #trent alexander arnold angst #football imagine #liverpool fc

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xoxovanillq · 6 months ago

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It’s On Me

Childhoodbestfriend!Steve x Introvert!Reader

Warning- Shy reader, reader like cotton candy ice cream (sorry if you don’t like it 😭), kissing, tooth rotting fluff

A/N- There was inspiration taken from the Cherry series, and this was also based off an ask.

———

You pick at your nails, the blue polish lifting and peeling up. It was the same color it always was, light turquoise blue, you’d stuck to the same color since middle school. You thought people didn’t notice, I mean, you didn’t really talk much, well, not to anyone but Steve.

The two of you met in primary school, both around 6 years old. Some girl had bumped into you, causing you to spill the soup you brought to school for lunch. He had swooped in to save the day, sharing his lunch with you, and the two of you had been attached at the hip since.

In middle school, you watched as Steve gained popularity, and you stayed behind, your once outgoing personality reduced to a shadow of its former glory. You didn’t have many friends, but time after time, he was there beside you, never leaving. This devotion caused you to become attracted to him, something that wouldn’t leave you.

The same pattern continued in high school, but somehow, you made it through all that, and more, and came out the other side.

Now you were here, walking beside him, Robin and Eddie behind you, and the kids behind them. After all the whining and complaining about the heat, Steve had dragged you all out to get ice cream.

“C’mon, walk faster. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can cool down.” He calls back to the rest of the group picking up the pace a bit, grabbing your hand and bringing you with him.

You had always enjoyed the feeling of his hand grasping yours, the slight roughness of his palm, his thumb absent-mindedly rubbing the back of your hand. It was familiar, something that calmed you in awkward situations. You thought back to all the things he’d done for you over the years, sneaking chapstick into your pocket, replacing your nail polish, all things he thought you never noticed.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” He asks, noticing the way you bit your lip and looked off to the side, spaced out in thought.

“Oh, nothin’, just figuring out what I’m gonna get.” You reply quietly, looking him in his big brown eyes. God, you could drown in them, with the way they swallowed you with kindness.

“They’ve got Cotton Candy, your favorite.” He says with a little smile, nudging you with a smile. He remembered your favorite flavor after all the nights the two of you spent together, talking til’ the sun rose.

“Can you two lovebirds pick up the pace? For someone who just told us to stop complaining and walk faster, you’re really slowing us down.” Robin calls out, followed by a chorus of agreement from the kids. Steve groaned and began walking faster, muttering something about how he wished people didn’t say stuff like that to you, that you were just friends.

Although you’d never say it aloud, you kind of liked the teasing, it made you feel like other people would approve if you ever got in a relationship with him that was more than purely platonic.

Once you arrived at the ice cream shop, everyone ordered, and Steve quickly payed. You immediately noticed he got nothing for himself, and you began to get worried. It was easy for you to spiral, something you were used to, the second you got worried, you began to think the worst. As you spiraled, worried about something as small as him not getting ice cream, your eyes drifted to his hands. Before you could think about how nice his hands were, you got distracted by his near-empty wallet. Without another word, you got up from where you were sitting, leaving your ice cream at the table, and pulling out your own wallet. You quickly ordered his favorite, reciting it as if it was something as simple as your own name.

“Here.” You state simply, placing it in front of him before sitting in the chair across from him.

“You didn’t have to do that, I’m fine.” He says apologetically, his face flushing red.

“No, I wanted to.” You reassure, taking his hand in yours, suddenly feeling a little bit bold.

“Honey, you don’t need to worry about me, and don’t tell me you aren’t worried, because we both know that’s a damn lie.” His tone is as sweet as the ice cream the two of you are eating, and it melts your heart. He reaches out, swiping his thumb on your chin to rid the bit of ice cream that had melted onto it. You laugh softly, and when he doesn’t move his hand, you suddenly go quiet. “Y’know I’ve liked you for like, ever, right? Ever since middle school, when you dragged me out to your backyard after my first girlfriend dumped me. I was so upset, but we ended up falling asleep out there, and I forgot all about her.” He admits suddenly, his face still flushed a little red.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve liked you since middle school too.” You say, suddenly less worried about what other people think, I mean, he likes you too, finally.

“I was scared, but c’mon baby, I’ve made it pretty obvious.” He quips with a little grin, and before you can reply, he’s giving you a soft kiss. You can taste ice cream on his lips, and he can taste the same strawberry chapstick he had been slipping into your pocket since 7th grade.

“Love you baby.” He whispers as to pill back.

“Love you too Stevie.” You whisper back. These confessions didn’t go unnoticed on the walk home, with cheers from the rest of the group. You couldn’t be happier, you finally had the boy you’d been wanting for years.

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine

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into-the-grey · 3 months ago

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~It's Raining, It's Pouring~

Noah x F!Reader fic

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Mild Smut and some Angst

Sometimes, people are just meant to be in each others lives. And sometimes, magic happens.

Warnings: mentions of SH, allusions towards Suicide, allusions towards abusive family, mentions of death, brief smut (theyre both 18 by this point), high school, mental illness, panic attack, divorce, mild jealousy

WC: 13.2k

Taglist: @wh0th3h3llisbucky @blend-in-with-the-madness

RIP my YouTube history, I think I played It’s Raining, It’s Pouring by Anson Seabra for 7 hours straight working on this. Also, the tense probably changes a few times because I never write in second person, I apologise for that, still learning a bit. It might go from past to present tense and back again a few times. This is a new format, and a new way of writing for me, so let's see how it goes.

Fic Masterlist

Alright; ON WITH THE SHOW

Once upon a time, there were two people. Those two people were star-crossed, fated, meant to be. All of the romantic stories could have been about them. It wasn't a grand adventure for him to find her, and he didn't have to save her from a dragon. And she had never been locked in a tower, or forced into slavery by an evil step-mother.

No.

No, it was much simpler than that.

You. You were the one who lived in the house down the street. The house that he rode past every day on his bike when he was young. You were the one he used to see in the neighbourhood, playing with your friends and climbing the tree at the end of the block that all the kids were convinced was a magic wishing tree.

You were the one who came to school with notes in your lunchbox from your mom and knew that you were loved.

And him? He was the kid with the witch for a mom. She wasn't really a witch, but she scared a lot of the kids on the block. She would stand in the street, yelling for him to come home, and if he didn't show up, she'd give up and lock him out for the night. He was the one who came to school with bags under his eyes wearing the same hoodie he'd been wearing for a week.

He was the one who would look at all the kids around him, wishing he could be like you.

You found him in the wishing tree once. That day, you ran down the block, adamant that the tree would help you pass a test in your fourth grade science class. As an adult, you know how stupid you were, but back then it was the most obvious answer.

He was in the tree, high up in it's branches. He huddled in on himself as the cold wind whipped against his skin. He was alone, but his lips moved as tears rolled slowly down his cheeks. His bloodshot eyes fixed on you as you climbed higher, his lips pressing into a thin line as he watched you nervously.

You didn't hesitate for a second.

'Hi,' you said brightly, seeing his pain. You didn't know how to help him, and your eight year old brain couldn't imagine the gravity of his troubles. All you were sure of was that he was there, and he was upset. 'What are you wishing for?'

'Nothing.' His lie was blunt, and his eyes flitted away from you as he sniffed hard against his tears. He drew his heels in under himself as he perched on the thickest branch, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees while he shivered.

'Oh,' you said softly. 'I was going to wish for help on my test tomorrow. It's a science test and I suck at science. But, if you want, I can wish for whatever you were wishing for? It might help to have more than one person wishing for it?'

He scoffed, his deep brown eyes looking you over quickly before returning his hard stare back to his purpling fingers.

'A science test? Why didn't you just study?' he asked, his voice low. His hard shell seemed to crack as he glanced back at you a few times.

'I got distracted,' you admitted. 'A lot. Focussing is kind of hard for me, my mom says I have attention problems, but my dad thinks I'm just making it up to get people to feel sorry for me.' You leaned against a branch, tugging awkwardly at the sleeves of your pale blue hoodie. 'Sometimes my brain goes too fast though, and I can't read or I say stupid things that I don't mean. It's embarrassing.'

'Like offering a wish to a stranger?' he said, a snip in his voice. The words cut through you, stinging as you digested them. Your lip jutted out in a pout as you felt your gut twisting from his insult.

'Yeah,' you nodded sadly 'I guess...'

Your turned dejectedly, wishing silently for the boy to learn some manners, and grabbing the branch to lower yourself down.

'Wait,' he called. Your head snapped back to him, seeing him staring at you. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean it.'

You smiled weakly up at him, and after a brief pause, you made your choice. You scaled the branches and hauled yourself up to his level. As you reached him, you sat on the only other branch that stays steady under your weight, just above him in the dying leaves. The cool breeze rustled through the leaves, a few coming loose and drifting around you while the sky above darkened.

'I'm Y/N,' you said, pulling your hood up to protect you from the chill. Your introduction sounded eager, like you were asking for something. Mentally you kicked yourself, but he seemed receptive.

'I know, I've seen you at school,' he told you, shifting slightly to face you. He chewed the inside of his lip while he wiped his sleeves over his face, trying to erase the traces of his tears. No matter how hard he wiped, there was no way for him to erase the hollow sadness in his eyes. The moment you saw it, you knew there was more to this boy than he let on.

'I've seen you too. You're in Miss Forson's class, right?' you asked. You watched him nod slowly.

'Yeah. My name is Noah. You've probably heard it being yelled down the street enough times...'

'That's your mom, isn't it? The one who stands on the lawn yelling?'

Noah nodded, his cheeks flushing red and hanging his head. He clenched his fists and sniffed again, tears welling in his eyes.

'Yeah, that's her.'

'You're hiding from her, right?' you prodded.

'Yeah,' he said, his voice thick as he swallowed down the pain welling in his chest.

'Do you do that a lot?'

He nodded again, unable to look at you now. Your face fell, watching him picking at his nails and seeing his lip quiver.

'If you want, my mom would probably let you stay at my house? We could play my playstation for a while?' you offered. 'But, you gotta help me with my science test, just for a little while so my mom thinks you're not just there to distract me.' You giggled when you saw the corner of his lips lift into a smile. A sad one, but a smile nonetheless.

'Are you sure?' he asked timidly, looking at you with a glint of hope. 'I'm not really good at science...'

'That's okay, I'm not really good at playstation,' you told him.

A fat raindrop fell through the branches and the leaves, landing smack dab on your head with a pronounced 'plop'. You reached for your hair, feeling the wet spot and giggling more.

More raindrops fell, slowly turning the sidewalk below into a picture of grey polka dots. Noah followed your gaze, seeing the drops colouring in the concrete.

'I guess it's better than being out here in the rain,' he agreed, finally releasing his knees from his vice grip and stretching out to reach the branch below him to begin his descent. You smiled at him, following his lead and dropping off your branch.

Once you were on solid ground and you had a moment, you looked at him. Shaggy brown hair hung in his warm hazel eyes. A light dusting of freckles covered his nose, and a gentle smile lifted his pink lips. He stood only just taller than you, maybe an inch? An inch and a half at most.

You offered him your hand, leading him down the street towards your house. He walked slowly, letting the raindrops fall on the both of you. Normally, you'd run for home to get out of the rain, but something about him made the rain less intimidating. You felt safe with him the moment you saw him in that tree.

What you didn't know was that he felt safe with you too. A stark contrast to how things were at home. Noah had a strained relationship with his mom, and he never told you just how bad things were, but you knew it was worse than he let on.

He found solace in you and your home. Your mom welcomed him in, knowing exactly who he was and who his mom was. Noah's mom was known around the street, and a few of the parents in the neighbourhood were familiar with Noah's hiding spots. They would all keep a quiet eye on him whenever they saw him near their houses, knowing that someone had to.

When you brought him home to your mom, she didn't question anything. The two of you stood on the front doorstep, dripping and cold, and all your mom did was laugh and find you two the biggest fluffiest towels in the house. She brought you inside and found you a change of clothes, letting Noah have one of your oversized pokemon t-shirts and a pair of your dad's old gym shorts.

Your dad wasn't happy about it, but your mom shut him up. Never in front of you or Noah though. She wouldn't dare fight with your dad in front of the two of you, but you didn't miss the pointed glares she would shoot at him over the dinner table when your dad would make a remark.

Noah became a staple in your house, feeling safer there than at home. You liked having him there too, he was a lot smarter than he let on, and he was funny. Plus, he was really good at the playstation, he could help you beat the tougher levels. He even completed Crash Bandicoot for you when you got stuck on the hog riding level. And yes, he helped you with your science test, and you passed.

Some nights, Noah would sneak in through the dog door in the laundry and creep into your room. The first time he did it, it scared the hell out of you, but you got used to it quickly. Those nights were hard. He would wake you up in tears, but he would never tell you why. And when he did, you would simply scooch over and let him into the bed, rubbing his back while he cried himself to sleep.

Your dad would always ask who left the dog door open. Your mom never admitted it, but there were a few nights that you caught her unlocking it before she went to bed.

You two grew up together. Joined at the hip, you went everywhere together, did everything together...

And then high school happened. The first year was supposed to be exciting, you were meant to be enjoying life and all the perks that came with being high schoolers. Instead, your parents got a divorce.

Noah held you while you cried, fearing that your dad would try and make you move to Topeka with him. He mourned the breaking apart of your family with you, and he kept you distracted by playing video games with you or by hiding in the wishing tree with you.

Your mom gave him a key to the house the day your dad moved out, telling him he didn't need to sneak through the dog door anymore. He hugged your mom, unable to find the words to thank her. She even cleared out your dad's study and turned it into a bedroom for him.

Then came the awkward "talk". Your mom sat you down on the couch one day when Noah wasn't there, telling you that while she understood you two were close, that sex is a big deal and if you're not ready, then you can always tell him no.

She didn't judge, but she taught you all about protection, and asked that you wait until you were sure.

You laughed at her, telling her that there was no way you'd ever have sex with Noah. He was your best friend, and you told her you didn't feel that way about him. She just smirked at you, nodding and saying 'okay.'

But when you went to bed that night, you couldn't help thinking about it. You felt weird as you laid in your bed, staring at the ceiling with the images of Noah on top of you flashing through your mind.

Maybe you did feel that way, but you would never dare tell him.

That night, when Noah crept into your room, you comforted him and you felt butterflies as you held him. Silently, you cursed your mother for making you think about him that way, but you didn't let on that anything had changed.

At school, you joined music class with Noah, and he found something in himself. You watched him beam whenever he touched a keyboard or picked up a guitar. Lyrics seemed to flow from him like a fountain. He was magical.

You wished you were as good as him. But through music, he found his friend Nick. Nick was nice, and he hung out with you guys at lunch, but at the end of the day, Noah would come home to you. You tried to like Nick, but you couldn't help that teenage bubble of jealousy as he and Noah bonded over something that you just couldn't do.

And then Noah left. He just stopped coming to school.

The first day, you texted him and asked him where he was. He was blunt, telling you he wasn't coming. You assumed that he was just sick, or skipping for the day. But one day turned into two. Two became three. Three became a week. A week became a month.

After that, you knew to just let him sleep when you got up in the mornings. At least he was still in your room, still with you.

He got a job to fill his days, working at Nick's family's tattoo studio. Noah wasn't the art type, he couldn't really draw, so he never picked up a tattoo gun, but the money wasn't bad. He would bring you little trinkets and gifts sometimes. He even saved up to buy himself a car. It was an absolute piece of shit, but it ran, it got good gas mileage, and it had a stereo.

Then came the nights where you would drive around aimlessly, discovering more and more of Richmond as you belted out the words to any song you knew. Sometimes Nick would come with you, but you liked it better when it was just you and Noah.

He was growing up, and you loved seeing who he was becoming. He was still the awkward introverted boy you knew, but he was blossoming into a musician. Your mom even bought him a guitar one christmas, making him cry. Because he could finally practice again, he found his way into a cover band. You were their number one fan, and your mom was a close second. She cheered him on in any way she could.

You kept going to school though. You didn't have a choice, you weren't good enough at anything to take the creative path. Every day you wished Noah was there, but you did your best without him. Class was harder without him. It had been years of the two of you side by side, Noah helping you to understand the questions that didn't make sense to you. He would even read the questions aloud to you if you needed it. Now, your grades were slipping. You didn't have your support system, and no one else seemed to believe that it was that hard.

He would help with your homework, but it was getting harder. He'd never learned the subject matter, so he could only do so much. You'd let him read your textbooks, but sometimes neither of you understood what the hell the textbooks were talking about.

One night, a particular project had overstressed you. He held you while you cried, running his fingers through your hair while you tried to compose yourself.

'I can't fucking do this,' you choked, your arms around him while he rested his chin on your head. When did he get so tall?

'You can, it's just your brain,' he shushed you, his voice soft and his arms strong as he held you together. 'There's too much going on in there, isn't there?'

'There always is, you know that,' you told him, letting him sit you down on the side of your bed.

'And what do we normally do about it?' he asked gently, holding your hands and squeezing lightly. As he sat in front of you, you found yourself staring at him, your mouth hanging open while you panted through the tears.

He had the beginnings of a sleeve colouring his arm, the ink peeking out under his three-quarter sleeves. A shiny dermal piercing sat in his cheek, glinting under the low light of your bedside lamp. His warm brown hair hung down almost to his chest, always a layered mess.

But his eyes, those warm brown eyes. They were still the eyes of that boy from so many years ago, searching for comfort in yours. Offering you comfort with him. In them, you could see how much your pain hurt him, and how hard he tried to hide it.

'I don't know if can talk about it,' you whimpered, your gaze shifting to his hands. His long, slender fingers, wrapped up in your shorter, pinker ones. His thumb grazed over your knuckle supportively.

'There's nothing you can't tell me,' he said, both gently and firmly. 'What's different now?'

'Everything.'

'Y/N...' he whispered, shuffling closer. His hands ran gingerly up your arms, and you couldn't help flinching. You closed your eyes, holding your breath as heavy tears blurred your vision. You were thankful, you didn't want to see the pain in his eyes as realisation dawned on him.

'Why?' he asked. You knew he knew. It had been a while since you'd done that. You'd been clean since your dad gave up on trying to move you to Topeka. You hadn't needed it...

But school, the projects, the frustration of your brain not working right...

You hadn't felt good enough in a long time. Like something in you was broken. And even though you could normally talk to Noah about these things, Noah had found his people. He found his thing, the thing he was good at. You didn't have that. You were convinced he wouldn't understand anymore.

'I'm not right. I can't do the things everyone else can do,' you whispered. 'My grades are going to shit, and everyone thinks I'm just being lazy, but I just can't fucking do it. No one believes me-' you tell him, crumpling in on yourself as your voice breaks. 'I'm fucking def-fective,' you coughed.

Noah grabbed you, pulling you into his chest and holding you tightly, whispering into your ear.

'You are not defective. You are not lazy, or broken, or any of that bullshit. It's not your fault,' he told you, swaying you back and forth in his grip while he buried his nose in your hair.

'I-' you tried to start, but he shushes you, knowing whatever you were going to say would be negative.

'No, you are the kindest, smartest, most hard-working person I know,' he told you. 'You care so fucking much about other people. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be here, that's for sure. It's not your fault that you can't always figure out what the fuck those textbooks say. They're stupid fucking books anyway, written by snooty old guys with nothing better to do than write rules about how numbers should work or brag about how war is great when you win one.'

'Noah-'

'Nope, I'm not done,' he stopped you. 'You don't need to think like them. You think like you, and the way you think is magical. You are so special, and that's what matters. You might not be great at science or math, but you make the most amazing paintings I've ever seen. You write the best stories, and you sing better than half the guys who auditioned for my band. Don't you ever doubt yourself, okay?'

His arms lock tighter around you as his voice hitches in his throat. You nod against him, your arms around his narrow chest. His width had yet to catch up to his height, he was still skinny as anything, but he still gave fantastic hugs.

'I'm sorry-' you try to say, but again, he stops you.

'You. Are. Incredible,' he tells you, punctuating each word as he finds your face and looks at your bloodshot and puffy eyes. 'And you are everything to me, got it? Please, don't ever take yourself away from me like that. I care about you way too much to lose you to that.'

You nod, releasing an arm and wiping your face with your sleeve.

'Y/N,' he breathes, 'I mean it. Please, don't go anywhere.'

Your heart breaks as his firm voice slips, instead pleading with you now.

'I promise,' you tell him, swallowing hard past the lump in your throat. 'I care about you too much to leave you behind.'

'Good.'

Pulling you back into a tight hug, he doesn't tell you that he meant more with those words than you understood. He had for a while. And so had you. Both of you caught in the limbo of what you each thought were unrequited feelings, and neither one of you brave enough to tell the other about the butterflies in your bellies. Neither of you dared to speak the three words that your hearts yearned to say.

I care about you?

No.

I love you.

More than life itself.

Noah made a point to be around a lot more after that night. Sure, he was always around, but he slept in your bed a lot more after that. He watched as your long sleeves became tank tops, always checking to make sure the scars stayed scars.

He even offered to get Nick to tattoo you to cover them up, going as far as asking your mom if she would let you. To your dismay, your mom was against that idea. She let you get away with a lot, but an underage tattoo was toeing the line.

It didn't stop you from getting a tattoo though. It just meant you put it somewhere your mom wouldn't see it. You got Nick to tattoo it on the front of your hip, somewhere even a bikini would cover it.

A little tree, just like the one at the end of the block. Noah held your hand while the needle dragged across your skin, the bony parts hurting the worst. Nick chuckled while you squeezed your eyes shut tight and grimaced at the worst of it.

Finally, senior year rolled around. The best and worst year of your life.

Finally, someone believed you. At school, there was a new counsellor. She recognised something in you that no one else had. You called Noah the second she told you about the letters that changed your life.

ADHD.

That's why you had been struggling so much. That's why things never made sense the first time. Noah celebrated with you when you got home that afternoon, and he went with you to talk to your mom about it.

Your mom was just as excited for you to have an answer, agreeing to help you seek treatment. She couldn't get on the phone to your doctor fast enough. Finally, something made sense. A chance at normalcy...

Noah took you for a drive that night, the two of you sitting in the front seat of the car and screaming along to all the songs on your shared playlist. He drove you out to a lookout and the two of you watched the stars, talking about how different things could be.

He told you about his side project from his cover band, Man Vs Self. He was excited about it, and Nick was getting involved too, and Vincent. You weren't completely familiar with Vincent, but from the few encounters you'd had with him, he seemed nice enough.

He showed you some of the things he was working on for the band, and you had to admit, it was good. Not that you expected any less from him. Noah couldn't make something bad if he tried, it's like it was against his nature.

While you two sat there, you googled everything you could about ADHD, learning more about how your brain worked. A part of you mourned how your life could have been if you had been diagnosed earlier. Things could have been so different, so much easier..

But without the struggle, you never would have found Noah. And you wouldn't change that for the world, and neither would he.

If only things could be so simple forever.

But time marches ever onward, and life goes on.

Noah's band picked up. And after a while, you noticed him withdraw. There was something there, something he didn't want to tell you. Whenever you asked him what was bothering him, he would shy away from the topic, trying to change it quickly.

After a few weeks of pushing, you finally got the answer. He was leaving.

He cried as he told you, telling you he had been seriously considering backing out so he could stay with you. Knowing how much you needed him, it was killing him to choose between making this demo in Jersey or staying with you.

So you chose for him. You told him to go. You told him how much he would hate himself if he didn't try; that if he didn't go for it, he'd never know how far he could go.

You asked him how much time you had left. He told you that you had a month, and that he had no idea what would happen after. For that month, he worked his ass off on that demo, doing everything he could to have it ready to record, but he spent every night with you, promising you that this wasn't goodbye.

The night before he left, the two of you sat in the wishing tree and talked all night. He carved your names into the branches that you'd been sitting on when you met. He held your hand tightly, promising you that he'd come back.

And then he left. You and your mom stood on the driveway, sending him off with a bag of snacks and the tightest hug the two of you had ever shared before your mom came in with a group hug. She told Noah that she was proud of him, a phrase that brought tears to his eyes.

As he drove away in that cramped car, your mom kept her arm around you. The pair of you waved goodbye, watching him disappear down the road. You were thankful he didn't see the tears in your eyes as he disappeared around the corner.

Your mom held you together while you cried for most of the day. And that night, you snuck down to the wishing tree. You scaled its branches, climbing to the high branch that you sat on the day you met Noah and pulling your knees into your chest.

Silently, you whispered to the universe, making yet another wish.

You wished for his success, for him to be brave, and to push through anything this industry could throw at him. But most of all, you wished for him to come back.

Weeks passed, and the end of the school year drew closer. Promposals were exchanged at school, but no one asked you. Your friends all had dates, while you debated if you even wanted to go.

You told Noah as much on one of your nightly calls. You had fallen into a rhythm with him, waiting for him to call you when he was going to bed. Sometimes you had to call him, now that you had a job to fill your time.

It wasn't much, just stacking shelves at the local record store, but it paid better than fast food or waiting tables did.

As prom drew closer, you found Noah egging you to go. He even dared you once. You knew you couldn't say no to a dare, and your mom was more than willing to take you dress shopping.

She found you a beautiful dress, and it cost a small fortune, but she was adamant that you needed to go. Something about a 'rite of passage for a young woman' and 'regretting if you don't go.'

So you did. You went to prom, alone, in your beautiful forest green dress. The colour of the leaves on the wishing tree. And you hated every second of it. You stood in the back of the room, watching all the couples slow dancing while you sipped at a plastic cup of spiked punch.

Until a hand graced your arm.

'Care to dance?' he asked you. You turned, hope blooming in your chest.

But it wasn't him. It was someone else, Jacob? Joshua? You never learned this guy's name. He was a theatre kid with cropped black hair and too-tight skinny jeans. Sure, he was nice, but it wasn't Noah.

So you shook your head.

'Thanks, but I'm good. I was thinking I might head off.'

He just nodded at you, wandering off in search of a different dance partner.

And you did. You left, wandering out of the school gym and through the halls. You didn't cry, even though you really wanted to. You kicked your heels off and scooped them up as you walked through the quiet halls, the music echoing behind you as it seemed to taunt you.

Outside, the cool night air sunk into your skin, a welcome change from the stuffy air of the gym.

You were about to shortcut across the grass to get to the parking lot where you had parked the car. Your mom had loaned you hers for the evening, and you figured if she thought you were out for the night, she wouldn't mind if you went for a drive, as long as you put gas in it before returning it.

A car came careening into the lot as you stepped onto the wet lawn, grass sticking to your bare feet as you moved. The car came to a stop, and the engine silenced. His voice rang out across the parking lot, your head snapping over to him the moment you heard it.

Noah.

He slammed the car door, running over to you as fast as he could. Your heart stopped as you looked at him. He was dressed in a white button down with the sleeves rolled up, a black vest, and a skinny tie hanging from his neck.

You grinned, tears pricking at your eyes as you ran at him, throwing your shoes on the ground. You threw your arms around him and sank into his grip, feeling him hold you like his life depended on it.

'Were you leaving?' he asked as he squeezed you tightly, a hint of a laugh in his voice.

'I didn't have anyone to dance with,' you told him with a shrug. 'Plus, it's kinda crap in there, the music isn't even that good. You came a long way for nothing,' you joked.

'Definitely not nothing,' he told you, pulling back and looking down at you. You missed his eyes, and the way he smiled at you. Your heart fluttered as he grinned down at you.

'Oh?' you asked him, 'so what really made you come back? If the renowned draw of prom night sex wasn't the reason, it must be really good.'

He smirked as you teased him.

'Well, there's this girl I really like, and while I was gone the guys told me I should really talk to her and tell her how I feel about her. They had a point, so I was kind of hoping you could help me out with that?' He asked nervously.

You could feel his hands trembling as he laced his fingers with yours. You didn't dare let your smile falter. He couldn't know how much your heart was breaking at the idea of there being someone else.

'I mean, I can... but you've gotta tell me who she is before I can help,' you said, trying to keep that teasing tone in your voice.

Noah shook his head, chewing the inside of his lip nervously.

'She's probably the kindest, sweetest, funniest girl I've ever met. Y/N, I think I'm in love with her, I've just been too scared to tell her because I didn't want to lose her.'

'Noah-' you breathed, stepping back. You wanted so desperately to be right, but you needed to hear it from him. You watched as he took a deep breath, locking his eyes on yours.

'I love you, Y/N. So much.' he finally said, pulling you back to him and lifting his hand to your cheek. Your breath hitched in your throat at his touch.

All those nights of picturing what it could be like, the tingles at his touch, the thoughts you had tried to squash, it all came flooding forward. There was no denying it now. You were desperately in love with him too, and you didn't need to hide it anymore. The butterflies were free, no longer being squashed down and digested. You felt like you could float as he drew nearer.

Your breath quickened, your hand running up his chest and resting over his heart. You could feel it hammering beneath your fingers as you smiled up at him. In his eyes, you could see his fear while he hung on every breath, waiting for your answer.

'I love you, Noah. You have no idea how much I love you.'

A relieved laugh left his lips, and he leaned in. His lips brushed yours. At first it was tender, learning how you felt, how you kissed. After a moment, the kiss became confident, your arm wrapped around his neck while his hand rested on your lower back, holding you to him.

His taste intoxicated you, and in seconds he became the addiction you knew you would never be able to break. He felt the same. He knew he would never be the same, in that moment you became his air.

A hissing sound broke you apart, and the pair of you looked around. You were still alone, and there were no obvious signs of where the noise was coming from.

Until the sprinklers started, the cold mist spraying over both of you. You squealed, jumping in his grip and feeling him pull you in tight against his chest as the two of you cried out.

He was the first to laugh, and you followed close behind. You had met in the rain, it was only right that you confessed your love for each other the same way, even if the rain wasn't real.

'My shoes!' you cried out, looking behind you to where your heels glinted under the haze of mist.

'I got it!' he told you, releasing you and running through the brunt of the spray. You couldn't help but laugh as his hair deflated while he scrambled across the slick grass, grabbing for the shoes.

He scooped them up and turned to run back to you, but you had other plans. Instead, as he turned, he crashed into your drenched form and his arms wrapped around you again.

Your lips crashed to his, putting all the feeling you had been holding back for years into the kiss. He kissed you just as passionately, and both of you giggled as the water soaked you both to the bone.

'When I said you're everything to me, I meant it,' he told you, his forehead resting on yours as he smiled at you.

'I wish I had said something before you left,' you said, letting him sway you gently.

'So do I. But, we're here now, and that's all that matters.'

'We should probably go and clean ourselves up though. My mom will kill me if I catch a cold from running around in the sprinklers.'

Noah chuckled, kissing you again before finally releasing you. He took your hand, leading you through the water and over to the car.

'I'll meet you at home? I have to take mom's car back.'

'Okay, but after that, I have somewhere I wanna take you, if you're up for it?'

You agreed, parting with a kiss and practically floating back to your mom's car.

The drive home was agonising, and the lights were all off when you got there. Your mom had gone to bed, expecting you to be out late. You entered the house quietly, tiptoeing across the tiles.

You left the keys on the kitchen counter, grabbing a change of clothes from a basket in the laundry and the two towels from all those years ago. They didn't seem as big or as fluffy anymore, but your mom had embroidered your names into them for you. She knew an origin story when she saw one, and she was sentimental, so naturally, she took it upon herself to hold onto memories for you.

You met Noah outside, clambering into his car and handing him the towel. He grinned like a little kid when he saw it, remembering everything with you.

He wrapped the towel around his shoulders before setting off. The whole drive, all you did was talk. He told you about the demo, you told him about work and school, everything felt so normal. Normal, except for the buzz of adrenaline in the pit of your stomach, the cool rush that you felt every time he took your hand in his, kissing your knuckles.

After a while, he pulled into the parking lot of a hotel, grinning as he turned the car off.

'I figured that most people have some kind of after-party, why shouldn't we have our own?' He said, a sheepish grin on his face.

You laughed, shaking your head at him. He lead you from the car and through the hotel, the two of you looking dreadfully out of place in the gilded lobby in your drenched clothes and fuzzy towels. The concierge even giggled quietly as she watched you get in the elevator.

The room itself was fancier than any hotel you'd ever stayed in, and you wondered how he paid for it. You didn't ask, deciding to just enjoy it. As soon as the door closed, Noah tugged you close to him again, gazing down into his eyes with the sweetest smile on his face. If he kept looking at you like that, you knew you could die happy.

'Say it again?' You asked him quietly, your lips hovering just in front of his.

With a soft chuckle, he happily obliged. 'I love you, Y/N.'

'I love you,' you whispered, letting the space between you disappear again.

He was gentle when he stripped the dress off of you, draping it over a chair to let it dry. You were just as gentle about unbuttoning his vest and his shirt. Together you found your way to the shower, letting the warm water erase the chill from your bones.

Being naked in front of him felt strange, but his tender kisses made it easier. For a while, you stood under the water, wrapped in his embrace. Your head tucked perfectly under his chin, and every now and again he would nose into your hair, leaving feather-light kisses on the skin of your neck. If the water hadn't gone cold, you might have stayed there forever.

He wrapped you in your towel before finding his own. Your heart pounded as you watched him, looking over his growing collection of tattoos and the scars on his back. He caught you watching, and stepped closer to you with a look in his eye.

He reached for you, his fingers running over the scars on your bicep. Together, you were beautifully broken, and together you could build a whole new type of perfect. As you stepped into his embrace, you felt safe. You felt loved. You felt whole.

You were the one who lead him to the bedroom.

He was just as nervous, and both of you giggled as the towels came off. Neither of you had done this before, but it felt right to be doing it with each other.

You paid heed to your mother's warning, thankful to be on the pill, and you were sure you were ready.

He laid you down on the bed, and Noah positioned himself between your legs, slowly pushing himself into you, groaning as he felt your body accept him.

You breathed through the feeling, a sting burning through you as he froze in place and waited for your signal.

'You okay?' He asked as he saw your face screw up in discomfort.

'Mhmm,' you hummed, 'just getting used to it.'

'For what it's worth, you feel so much better than I ever imagined,' he breathed, kissing your collarbone and up your neck. His words reverberated through you, making you clench around him.

He smirked, taking your face in his hand. 'You like dirty talk?' He asked, surprised and fascinated to learn about what turned you on.

'A little,' you admitted as you held his bicep.

'So if I said something like...' he smirked, dipping low and hovering his lips just next to your ear, his voice barely a whisper, 'you're mine. Only mine. This pussy? It's mine, and I won't stop until you're out of breath and the neighbours know my name.'

He grinned, sucking in a sharp breath and feeling your muscles contract around him, lusciously squeezing him.

'You're so tight, baby, and so wet. Is this all because of me?'

You couldn't help the soft moan as he spoke, beginning to roll his hips against you. The feeling was heavenly despite the stretching feeling. You'd been warned that the first time could hurt, and it was easily bearable.

'Noah,' you whimpered, running your fingers across his skin.

'Does it feel good, baby? God, you feel so good,' he continued, rutting into you slowly. His thrusts were firm, exploring deeper than you'd ever been able to with your fingers.

You dragged his face back to yours, kissing him deeply. Noah happily followed your lead, letting you swipe your tongue over his as you moaned into his mouth.

'Fuck,' you hissed, your back arching. You wanted more, but you were too scared to show him what you needed. You didn't want him to feel inadequate, or think he was doing something wrong, but your clitoris screamed for attention. Your hand kept inching lower, but you couldn't help the anxiety in your stomach.

'Tell me, baby,' he purred, always able to read you. 'Show me.' He took your hand, guiding it between your bodies and resting his fingers atop yours.

You began to draw timid circles over the little nub, feeling Noah trace your movements to learn how you liked it.

You whined his name, and you felt his dick twitch inside you.

'Noah, please,' you begged, 'I think I'm close.'

'Me too, Y/N,' he panted, his cheeks red and his forehead slick with sweat. 'I want to watch you come. I wanna see how good I can be to you.'

The tingles started small, but the more you circled your clitoris, the stronger it became. Whines and groans left your lips, Noah mirroring the sounds.

His gasps were almost enough to have you, but what broke you was the way he said your name. His breathy cries for you as he sped up and reached his peak, sighing and closing his eyes while your body tensed around his.

He emptied himself into you, and you eked it out of him. You'd heard that it was rare to experience an orgasm during your first time, let alone a mutual one, but it happened, and it was so much better than using your fingers.

Noah laid on top of you, breathless. His eyes fluttered closed while he gasped for air, his panting tickling your nipple as he laid his head on your chest.

'I love you,' he told you between deep lungfuls of air.

'I love you,' you repeated, grinning and exhausted, running your fingers through his still wet hair.

If only that night could have lasted forever.

Fate was cruel like that. Fate, and Sumerian Records.

Man vs Self, then called CHLDRN got signed, becoming Bad Omens... You were ecstatic, celebrating with him and Nick and Vincent. Part of you was less thrilled, knowing this meant he would be gone again.

He promised you it wouldn't be for long, only a few weeks at a time. You believed him. But weeks didn't stay weeks.

Weeks became months, and months became moving to LA.

He promised you that he would come home and visit. He swore to you that he would pay to fly you out and you could stay with him. He would text you every day and call you every night, telling you how much he missed you and how much he loved you.

No matter how much you wanted it to be, nightly phone calls and texting weren't enough. Every time it rained, your heart ached for him. You missed his touch, his embrace.

And then the contact started to wane. You would lie awake, waiting for him to call or text you after a show, and some nights he would, but those nights grew further apart.

You would text him first, and you'd be left with no answer.

Your mom watched your heart break in real time. She understood the pain, and she missed Noah too. She felt like she had lost her son. She did all she could to help you cope, but you just felt hollow, like barely a shell of yourself.

Every now and again you would hear from him, and it would tear open that wound again. Finally, you had to call it what it was.

Dead.

You called him, knowing that this phone call would be the hardest call you'd ever had to make. You told him that no matter how much you loved him, you couldn't handle the heartache. His home wasn't with you anymore, and you couldn't have a home with him. Not right now.

He begged you to reconsider. He told you he'd throw it all away for you. You told him he was being stupid, and that he would never throw it all away, and if he did, he'd miss it too much. He'd regret it. Sure, the words sounded pretty, but he would never be able to walk away. Not fully. Nor would you ever want him to.

You told him that he was too talented and too good to walk away. He needed to stick with the band. So he did. And he hated it for a while. He wrote songs about how much he hated it, but none of those ever made the albums.

Well, one did.

It was embellished, sure, but you knew which lines were about you. And you hoped against hope that no matter how much he wanted to, that he wasn't watching you from afar. You knew his heart couldn't take that strain. He'd already been through so much. He needed to move on and live for himself now.

You found yourself in the tree one night, wishing he would be okay. You never wished for yourself anymore, but any wish you could make for him, he had it. Success, stability, love, you wanted it all for him. You could make do on your own.

So you did. It killed you when his name came up on your socials, seeing the articles about the band, and about him. You missed him more than anything. But you forced yourself to continue on with your life. The ADHD medication made it easier to function, so when you decided to go to university, you managed it a lot easier than you thought you would.

There were still nights that you wished he was there to read the questions to you. Or nights that you broke down in tears because the pressure was too much. Every time you reached the end of that rope, you remembered your promise to him, and you stepped away from the medicine cabinet.

Noah came to town once. His long hair had been cropped short, and his once spindly build had filled out. You thought about going to the show, but you couldn't bring yourself to go. Your mom even asked if you should go together, but you told her that if you did you'd only have to start the healing process over again. She was understanding, but you knew she wanted to go. She missed him too, after all.

More time passed, whizzing by in a blur of study, work, and long nights. Your mom watched your heart heal and break again every time his name was mentioned on the radio or in a news article.

One night, she sat you down on the couch like she had that night she gave you the "talk". Her skin had begun to sag, and her hair was greying, but you still saw the same look in her eye. That knowing look, the one that knew all your secrets.

'Y/N, honey, you've got to do something. You're not getting over him,' she told you. 'It's been almost two years.'

'I know,' you told her pathetically, curling into her side like a child. She rubbed your arm, comforting you.

'I have an idea that I wanted to run by you,' she said, her tone soft and warm. 'I'm almost ready to retire, and I think I want to retire somewhere sunny. I like the rain, but I'm ready for something new...'

You looked at her, an eyebrow cocked as you caught that mischeivous smirk on her lips.

'Mom...' you said slowly.

'I found a nice house, and with what this place is worth, we could easily afford it if we sell. You're almost finished with school, and there's plenty of job options for you-'

'And you want to move to LA?' you asked her incredulously, sitting up and searching her face for a hint of a joke. You found none. She was completely serious. 'Mom, this isn't some small move down the street, you're talking about moving across the country.'

She nodded, laughing at you. 'I know, sweetheart. But I mean it. I want something new, I've lived in this house for too long. I know it's your home, but once upon a time, it was mine and your father's. We bought it shortly after we got married, and there are days that I still expect to see him sitting on the couch when I get home from work. I still feel like he's here, even though he's been gone for so long. I need to move on from him, and I don't think I can do that here.'

You chewed your lip, looking at your hands. Sometimes it was easy to forget that your mom was a person too. She had her own life, her own story, her own feelings. It had been a long time since your dad left, and it was easy enough to forget that your mom had spent nearly twenty years with him. He was her Noah. Sure, in the end, he turned out to be an uncaring ass, but there had to be something there that she'd loved in the start, and now she couldn't let go of it. Just like you couldn't let go of Noah.

'Okay,' you told her. 'Show me this house?'

She did. She showed you the house, and it was perfect. A quaint little three bedroom townhouse in a quiet community, a thirty minute drive from the city. You fell in love with it the minute you saw it.

Things moved quickly after that night. Your mom put the house on the market, and when you weren't working or studying, you were packing. You found so many memories as you boxed up everything you owned. It didn't take long for the house to sell. It wasn't until the sold sign adorned your front yard that it finally sank in.

You were saying goodbye to your childhood.

The place looked strange without all your things in it. You remembered all of the nights you spent with Noah in your room, whispering about stupid things to make each other laugh. You remembered the sound of his guitar drifting from the room that was once his, even though he almost never slept in there. You had to patch the hole in the wall from when you had tried to slide down the hall in your socks and you slipped, coming crashing down through the plaster.

You remembered sitting around the dinner table, telling your dad about the picture you had drawn at school that day. Or showing off how much better your grades had gotten since Noah started to help you with your homework.

Most painful of all, you had to say goodbye to the tree.

For old times sake, you hauled yourself up into its branches, searching for the carving of your names on the trunk. You had labelled your branches, but after the night in the hotel, Noah joined your names in a heart on the trunk where the two branches met.

For the last time, you made a wish. You weren't sure you believed in it anymore, but that childish wonder in your heart refused to let go of the possibility. You whispered your wish, letting it go with the wind that rustled the leaves.

And then the frenzy began. The movers took all the boxes, packing them into a huge truck with all your furniture, and you got in the car. You told your mom to fly ahead, not wanting her to drive across the country. She was too easily worn out for such an adventure, and there was too much to do, you needed her to save her energy for unpacking and setting up.

So you drove across the country alone, just you and your mom's car. You sold the beater you had bought with your money from the record store. It wasn't going to make the trip, and you could find something better when you had a new job.

You stopped at motels, sleeping more fitfully the closer you got to LA. Your mind spun with possibilities. What would you do? Would you call him? Text him? Would you even reach out?

What if he had a new girlfriend? What if he hated you for ending things? What if he wasn't your Noah anymore?

Each night you tossed and turned, and each day you tried desperately to drown out the noise in your mind with music and podcasts. Finally, after nearly a week of non-stop driving and gas station sandwiches, you reached the exit for Los Angeles. Your new home.

You followed the GPS to your new house, seeing your mom outside with the moving truck. She was helping to take boxes into the house, even though the movers brought the couch in first for her to sit down. She insisted on helping, but that was what your mom was like.

You parked on the street, getting out of the car and stretching your weary legs. Who would have thought sitting still for so long would be so exhausting. The sun had started to dip in the sky, bathing the street in a warm golden glow. You took in your new surroundings for a moment, noting the difference in the smell of the air, the warm breeze, and the lack of trees. There were only a few trees in the street, most of them small. One house had a large tree in the front yard, and it reminded you of the wishing tree. Smiling to yourself, you were glad something felt like home.

Your mom had told the movers to put your bed in first, which you were thankful for. You made your way to your new room, stretching out on the unmade mattress and letting your spine decompress for a little while.

It took a couple of weeks to set up the house how you wanted it, and it took a few more weeks to find a job, but soon enough, you were an official LA working girl. You had a desk job, you paid stupid amounts of money to park fifteen minutes away from your office, and you thrived on coffee, but you were doing it. You were living.

You still hadn't called him. You wanted to, but fear got the better of you every time you typed in his number. Your thumb would hover over the green button for stupid amounts of time, and then you would lock your phone and put it down.

You never thought it would go the way it did.

You came home from work one cloudy afternoon, climbing out of your mom's car and heading to the mailbox. A cool breeze nipped at your arms while you sifted through the mail. While you sorted the bills from the junk, a large black pickup pulled into the street. It was the first time you had seen it move since you moved in. For the last month it had been stationary on a driveway a few doors down.

It crawled past your house, slowing down as it passed by. For a moment, you tensed, ready to run or fight, whatever you needed to do, but then it moved on. It rolled into the driveway you had become accustomed to seeing it at, the house with the large tree in the front yard.

The loud rumble of the engine ceased, and as you were about to turn and head inside, a voice called out to you.

'Y/N!?' the deep voice bellowed, echoing down the street.

You froze.

His footsteps approached, his sneakers pouding against the asphalt as he crossed the street and stepped closer.

'Y/N...' he breathed, stopping a few feet away from you.

You looked up at him with your heart in your throat. His hair was still short, but it had grown out since you last saw him. A hint of stubble graced his chin and his lip, making him look so much more grown up than the weedy little teenager you remembered from prom. And his muscles...

He truly was a man now.

'Noah,' you whispered, your voice gone as you stared at him in disbelief.

He seemed to be having the same problem, stammering as he inched closer to you. 'You're... you're here?' he asked, his tone bewildered, asking the how and why without the need to say them.

'Mom retired, she wanted to get away from the memories of dad,' you told him with a shrug. You could barely bring yourself to meet his eye. Your throat tightened as you got a glimpse of the warm brown that you had missed so much. 'She missed you too, I think that's why she came here.'

'I miss her too,' he said sadly, 'she was the only parent I really had.'

Bit by bit, he stepped closer, closing the distance between you.

'I'm sure she'd love to see you,' you offered quietly, 'if you're not busy?'

'I don't think I'm busy,' he told you, smirking. Your stomach backflipped, and your fingers itched to know his skin again.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath. You knew you needed to rip the band-aid off and just say it.

As you finally blurted out the words, his voice melded with yours.

'I missed you,' you both said.

Pausing, you looked at each other. You finally met his eyes. In that warm gaze, you saw all the love you had seen when you were young. All the longing that you felt was mirrored in him. His cheeks flushed, and you became aware of the heat in your own face as the pair of you laughed.

'I'm sorry,' you told him, taking a step closer to him. He was within reach now, you could have easily brushed his hair from his eyes, or taken his hand.

'For what?' he asked, closing the distance further.

'For ending things. I thought it hurt to miss you when I had you, and then I didn't anymore... I've never felt so alone... I should have just waited-'

'No, Y/N, you did what you needed to. And it would have only gotten worse from there anyway. We didn't get a break for years. With or without you, I never would have seen you.'

He lifted his hand to rest on the bare skin of your arm, admiring the tattoo that covered the scars on your bicep. Your body tingled under his touch, your resolve weakening.

'I'm glad to see that chapter is closed,' he said softly. 'It is, right?'

'Yeah,' you assured him. 'I got close a few times, but I remembered what I promised you and I just couldn't.'

'Good,' he breathed.

You were so close now, his head tilted down to look at you, and you could almost feel his breath on your skin. A cool breeze blew over you, making you shiver. The sound of thunder rolled across the sky, and you couldn't help but laugh as a heavy raindrop smacked on his head, making him flinch.

'Why is it that every time we find each other, it rains?' you mused, grinning up at him.

'Or there's sprinklers?' He added with a smirk.

As the rain fell in slow, fat drops dotting the sidewalk, you felt your heart twist. His hand moved, raising to your cheek. Your eyes welled up, too many emotions filling you.

'I never stopped loving you,' he told you. 'I missed you, and I thought about you every single day.'

'So did I,' you admitted. 'I couldn't stop.'

'And now, here you are...' he said.

'Here we are.'

His lips finally touched yours, and thunder cracked overhead. The sky opened, the rain falling faster, masking the tears on your cheeks as you melted into him. In a matter of moments you were drenched, but you didn't care.

'Never let me go again,' he begged you between heated kisses.

'Never.'

Your arms wrapped around his neck, holding him to you. Your hearts pounded against each other's as your chests pressed together. There wasn't enough of him, you needed everything he could give you. You wanted to wrap yourself in him and never let go.

When the thunder seemed to be overhead, he released you, grabbing your hand and dragging you to the front doorstep of your house. His beautiful smile set something in you alight, a fire you thought you had lost a long time ago.

He rang the doorbell, holding you close to his side, his fingers laced tight in yours. After a moment, your mom appeared at the door with a broad grin and the two towels in her hands.

'It's about time,' she said, handing the large fluffy towels over to you, ensuring you each had the towel with your own name embroidered on it.

'You were watching out the window, weren't you?' you asked her with a laugh.

'You were taking forever to get the mail, I was curious,' she told you innocently, 'but Noah? It is so good to see you, honey.'

She opened her arms to him, asking him for a hug. Noah hesitated for a moment, looking down at his sopping clothes.

'Honey, it's water, get over here,' your mom demanded, pulling him into a tight hug. Noah grinned, revelling in her hug. He was home. You could see it on his face, tears pricking at his eyes as he squeezed her tight. He was finally home.

Noah stayed the night with you, having missed your mom's home-cooked meals and sharing a bed with you. He texted his housemates, telling them that he would be with you. Nick was excited to hear that you had moved out to LA, and you had to promise that the three of you would hang out together soon, but for the moment, all you wanted was Noah.

You spent the night tangled up in him, your legs entwined while he cradled you close to his chest. Every now and then he would kiss you wherever he could reach, often on the forehead or on your lips.

You giggled together in the dark, listening to the storm outside and reminiscing on all the nights you'd spent huddled under the covers back in Richmond.

'I love you,' he whispered to you as you both drifted closer to sleep.

'I love you too,' you told him, brushing your fingers across his cheek and smiling tiredly.

In the morning, your mom handed him a key as you sat down at the table with your coffee. She told him that he always had a home with the two of you. He tried to hide it, but you saw him getting misty eyed as he hugged your mom.

You had to leave for work, but Noah was free to sit and catch up with your mom. You left them together, smiling at the scene as you said your goodbyes.

Noah rushed after you, chasing you to the car with a smitten grin.

'Hey,' he called out, holding the car door open, 'you forgot something.'

'Oh?' you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He leaned into the car and kissed you, not caring that some of your lipstick was on his face now.

'I love you,' he said with a smile, 'okay, now you can go.'

This became a routine. As long as he was in town, the two of you shared a bed. Sometimes you slept in his, but most of the time you slept in yours. He would kiss you goodbye every morning as you left for work, and if he wasn't in town he would send you some kind of message.

The distance became bearable now that he would always come home. You missed him while he was on tour, but at least he would end up back with you at the end of it all instead of on the other side of the country.

It took some getting used to, but you adjusted.

Months passed, and there came a day when you were both free. He was excited, wanting to take you out somewhere, just the two of you. You agreed, seeing him so happy there was no way you could tell him no.

In his black pickup, you drove to the outskirts of town. He wouldn't tell you where you were going. You let him lead the way, trusting him.

He pulled up and parked the car, finally letting you see where you were. He'd taken you to a forest trail. For a minute, you didn't understand, but you let him guide you. He lead you down the trail and to a little clearing where you saw it.

A tree, just like the wishing tree back home.

You couldn't hide the smile on your face. He raced with you to the tree, both of you dragging yourself up through the unfamiliar limbs and branches. Noah had to help you a few times, pulling you up to a higher branch that you could sit on together.

And as you sat, you found yourselves grinning like little kids.

'I figured a little bit of home was a good thing,' he told you, taking your hand. 'But my home is wherever you are.'

'Noah,' you giggled, leaning into him and shoving him gently with your shoulder.

'I'm serious!' he told you, his eyes crinkling with his laughter. You loved the sound, never tiring of his voice. He could read a dictionary out loud and you would listen to him happily.

'How did you even find this?' you asked him, letting him hold you steady on the branch.

'I used to go hiking during quarantine. It was all I was allowed to do, and it got me out of the house for a while.'

You nodded in understanding. Those years had been insane.

'But, there's a reason I wanted to bring you here,' he said nervously. You shifted, turning to face him and swinging your leg over the branch to straddle it. Noah mimicked your movements, your knees touching each other's as he took your hands in the space between you.

You searched his face, seeing a hint of fear in his eyes. Your throat wanted to close at the sight, but you forced yourself to breath through it, squeezing his hands reassuringly.

'I know it hasn't been long since we found each other again, but I don't ever want to lose you again,' he said, sucking in a deep, shaky breath. 'I wish I had told you earlier than I did, I wish we could have spent more time like this. I loved you before I knew what it meant to love someone. You helped me when no one would, and you never wanted anything from me but a friend. I don't know where I'd be without you, but I wouldn't be here.'

As he spoke, your eyes began to water. Your fingers tangled tighter into his, your heart twisting in your chest.

'I don't want us to ever go through what we went through ever again. I want to always be with you, to look after you. I want to kiss you good morning every day, and I want to be the last thing you see when you go to sleep. I want to bring you coffee, and read your books to you, and run through sprinklers with you. My world starts and ends with you, and I want to be there while you build your world into whatever you want it to be. And I hope that whatever that is, it includes me...'

He released your hand, sliding his fingers into his pocket and retrieving something. A deep red velvet box. He opened it and turned it to you, holding it carefully in the palm of his hand.

'Y/N, I love you, more than anything. I wanted to do this in our tree, but this is the closest I could get us,' he chuckled, smiling nervously and looking at the box in his hand. The ring glittered under the light spilling through the canopy of leaves above you. 'Marry me? Please?'

You couldn't find words. Your body was a cacophony of emotion, tears spilling down your cheeks while your heart pounded in your chest.

'Noah,' you whispered, testing your voice. You could see how nervous he was, and you wanted to put him out of his misery. You nodded, smiling back at him. 'Absolutely. I will absolutely marry you.'

He couldn't get the ring on your finger fast enough. He couldn't kiss you hard enough, or hold you close enough. The pair of you were an emotional wreck, smiling and laughing while tears spilled down both of your cheeks.

Before you left the tree, Noah carved your names into the branch, scrawling a date under it. He helped you get down, and he caught you as you lowered yourself from the last branch, spinning you in a circle and kissing you fiercely.

'I love you,' he said, 'and I'm gonna say it until you hate it.'

'I could never hate it,' you told him, your arms tight around his neck.

When you got home, your mom was thrilled. She couldn't be more excited, demanding to see the ring and telling Noah it was about time. She immediately launched into wedding planning, promising to finance whatever you needed. She was overjoyed to have Noah be a part of the family on paper.

She helped you over the next few months while you picked dates and guests and everything there is to do with a wedding. You debated on inviting your father, but decided against it. He had never been warm to Noah, he didn't need to be a part of this celebration.

Noah had to travel a little bit while all this was happening, but it gave you plenty of chances to find a dress. And he would call every night wanting to know what you and your mom had found or planned.

You weren't sure who was more excited, you or Noah.

And as the days passed, the day finally came.

You walked down the aisle with your mom, surrounded by friends and family, but the only person who mattered to you waited at the end of the aisle with the biggest smile on his face and a glimmer in his warm brown eyes.

He took your hand and held it tight, silently swearing to never let it go. You swore the same. It had always been the two of you (and your mom) against the world, but now you got to declare it in front of everyone.

What you weren't prepared for were Noah's vows.

'Y/N,' he began, 'our history has been a long road of ups and downs. We've known each other longer than I've known anyone else. And I can't think of anyone else I'd rather take on the world with. You have always been my rock, my biggest supporter, and my best friend. You came into my life when I needed someone like you, and I know I was mean to you, but I was embarrassed.

'I was embarrassed because I had seen you in that tree making wishes. I wondered if maybe it was magic, because it always seemed to work for you. I never told you what I wished for that day, but I think by now you've earned the right to know.' He paused, squeezing your fingers and lifting them to his lips, his eyes glistening with tears as he cleared his throat. 'I wished for someone to love me. And not a minute later, there you were, wanting to wish for a pass on your science test. But you offered to wish for something for me, caring about me from the minute we met. I got my wish.'

'But, as I got older, I learned something. The tree wasn't where the magic came from,' he said, smiling at you, losing himself in your gaze. 'The magic was you. You granted every single wish, one way or another. You pushed me to be better, to succeed. You gave me everything you could. You protected me when I couldn't protect myself, you gave me a home when I had nothing, and you loved me when I couldn't love myself. So here I am, vowing to you, that I will always, always, protect you. I will love you when you can't, and I will give you everything I can, and I will always be your home. I vow to keep your magic alive, and to grant every wish for you that I possibly can, because you gave me all of mine.'

You knew he was good with words, but he had you there. By the end of his speech, you were a mess of tears, your own vows forgotten. You wanted nothing more than to throw yourself at him and never let him go.

When you were finally pronounced man and wife, you met Noah with the deepest kiss you could, pressing your body into his and wanting to hold your breath forever so you could stay locked in his lips.

Your guests cheered and wolf-whistled, and Noah dipped you, giving them a show. When the need for air overcame you, you grinned up at him, hanging on to him tightly.

'I've got you,' he assured you.

'And I've got you,' you smiled back up at him.

He spun you back onto your feet, holding you to him as you left the ceremony together. You had to go and take pictures, but you really just wanted a moment alone together.

You lead Noah to the room where you had been getting ready before the ceremony started, closing the door.

'Are you okay?' he asked you, taking your hand. You nodded, thumbing over the band that adorned his left hand now.

'Yeah,' you told him, swallowing hard. 'You just blindsided me a little.'

'I'm sorry-'

'Don't be. Noah, I am so sorry for what you went through, but also I am so thankful that out of all the places it could have lead you, it lead you to me. And I am so thankful that I get to be the one to love you.'

'So am I,' he told you, stepping closer until your chests pressed together. 'I meant it, you're everything to me.'

'And you're everything to me.'

The reception was filled with celebration, jokes, cheering, speeches, and some very unfortunate dancing. And naturally, at the end of the night, LA was subjected to a massive thunderstorm. Your guests hid inside, but you and Noah ran out into the rain, knowing you couldn't break tradition now. The pictures ended up immortalised in your photo album, displayed on the mantle in the house the two of you bought shortly after your honeymoon.

You got lucky, you managed to find a house just a few blocks from your mom. The house had a big yard, but it was missing something...

Noah came home from a tour with the answer a few months after you had settled in.

'I don't know if this is legal, and I have no idea how to do it, but we're gonna try,' he told you, opening a secure compartment in his suitcase and presenting you with a box.

It was an old amazon prime box, about as big as a shoebox, but as thick as a matchbox. You shot him a look, raising an eyebrow.

'Just open it,' he told you, rolling his eyes.

So you did.

A bundle of branches sat in the box, wrapped in wet paper towel.

'You went to Richmond?' you asked. He nodded.

'I did, and I brought some of the wishing tree home. If we do it right, we can have our own wishing tree, right here in our yard. It will take years to grow, but I can't see a reason not to.'

You smiled, shaking your head and placing the branches on the table.

'I love you,' you told him, looping your arms around his neck and kissing him.

'I love you more.'

Together, you propagated the branches, and you successfully planted a tree. And over the years, as that tree grew, the two of you grew. Your love grew, your family grew, your happiness grew. And one day, you and Noah will get to tell your daughter all about the wishing tree, and take her back to your wishing tree.

But for now, you and Noah get to watch her, seeing the magic you made together grow.

THE END.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian smut #bad omens fanfic #bad omens #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction

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the-kr8tor · 5 months ago

Note

May I have Bitter Orange in a ⭐ bottle please? The start of R and Hobie being handcuffed together before they turned, with R succumbing to the effects of the virus much faster than Hobie due to his spiderpowers, so for a bit he just watches his love become a husk of who they were before he too is a zombie?

*laughs evily* Yessss I've been waiting for a request exactly like this hwjsjwijsjaj hope you like it!

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 3.2k (whoops)

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), description of illness, TW blood, CW injury, TW death, zombie AU, Zombie apocalypse AU. Angst, Hurt/comfort

A prequel to this one shot

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

The air is nice and cool on your face as you walk hand in hand with Hobie in the barren street. There's rows upon rows of abandoned houses, all in different stages of decay from both scavengers trying to survive and time itself proving to be the worst enemy. But it's on your side for now for it has given you infinite time to be with him.

Hobie's hand is suddenly on your scarf, fingers gingerly sliding the fuzzy material up to your chin. He smiles at you, the sun blindingly light behind him. Despite the apocalypse, he still looks just as handsome. He has new shallow scars on his chin where a stubble is slowly growing, hair a bit of a mess but beautiful nonetheless. You've once told him after a lucky find of one whole pound of chocolate pudding that he's apocalypse chic, that he makes the end of the world look good. To which he laughed and shoved a spoonful of chocolate pudding in your mouth. Compared to him you probably look like a mess, you wouldn't know, you've ignored mirrors ever since you ran out of shampoo a few days ago.

“What are you thinkin' ‘bout, gorgeous?” He tugs you closer to him, the crowbar hanging from his backpack clinks against the machete next to it.

“That I really need shampoo, and that you look unfairly handsome in this light.”

Chuckling, he intertwined his fingers around your own. It could mean death for the both of you if the undead suddenly lunges and he doesn't have enough time to take his hand away from you. But he thinks it's alright for him to do, to indulge himself to your touch since the entire place is empty save for a few dead cars and scattered luggages left by people.

“You should see yourself in my eyes, lovie, the greasy hair is doin' a lot for me.”

“Oh yeah? You like it when you pat my head and you get petrol on your hand?”

“We need petrol, d’you think if I bunch up your hair and squeeze it I can collect the oil?”

You nudge him playfully, “you're an ass.”

“Yeah, well, you're stuck with this arse.”

Your mind goes back to your friends and family you've left behind. “Do you think they're okay?”

“'m sure they are, Yuri's got them, and they have Ned, he'll whip them into shape. ‘sides, we're almost at James’, if I was them I'd stay there.” He adjusts his hold on his pack and guitar. “We'll find them.”

You smile, nuzzling his bicep for his own reassurance, knowing that he also worries for them. “You're right. They're probably doing better than us.”

“Yeah,” he pecks the crown of your head. “They're living like kings, I bet.”

You two stop in front of a large house, complete with white marble steps and tall roman columns. “James' dad never had taste, huh?”

Hobie snorts, “his son took all of it. C’mon, then.” He leads you on the porch, trying the door, wishing that it was locked because if it is it means that someone's inside, that they're surviving and waiting for the two of you. To his despair, the door opens without a problem.

Hobie looks back at you having the same expression. “It's okay,” you try to be optimistic, “maybe they left a message for us.”

He nods, “yeah, maybe.” Crossing the abandoned space, he takes his guitar from his back to strum a tune. When he doesn't hear stumbling or any rattling from anywhere inside the house, he continues forward, but his guard is still up. “We might as well get some supplies while we're ‘ere.”

“Yeah, there might be some left in here.” You give him a small smile. “How about we split up? This place is too big, it'll take us forever to comb over this place.”

Hobie considers it for a moment. The place seems pristine except for the furniture and cabinets that are picked clean, so he deems it safe. “Okay, just…” you walk to his side, rubbing his arms, smiling sweetly at him even though he probably doesn't smell the best. “...keep your knife close.”

“I will keep my knife close,” you repeat his words, “and I'll stay alert.” Poking at his chest, you peck the frown off his lips. “And you keep safe.”

He's still apprehensive, but he knows you can hold your own. Taking your face in his hands, he kisses you fully, smooching until you're giggling. “We’ll meet back ‘ere in fifteen.”

“Aye, aye, Cap'n!” You mock salute. “Any special requests?”

“Chocolates.”

“I said a request, not wishful thinking.” You tease, he has an urge to kiss you again.

“Towels, the nice fluffy ones.” You slide your hands away from him, to which he already longs for.

“Got it! I bet James has a ton of them.” You wink, knife in hand, walking away from him.

Hobie watches your retreating back, tamping down his anxieties. He searches upstairs, grinning at James' familiar room. His posters and messy floors remain untouched, the bed still looking like it was tossed around by a tornado. He almost cries at the picture frame on the bedside table containing his band's smiling faces plus you who's embracing him.

Turning the frame around, he takes the picture and pockets it to show to you. After rummaging James' room, he takes a few shirts and pants for him and you. He even finds a pair of silk pajamas that he knows you'll love. A piercing scream echoes around the house, he immediately bolts downstairs, heavy footsteps thudding across marble floors.

You're on your back, fighting for your life while the undead on top of you tried to get a chunk out of you. It all stops when Hobie's guitar connects to the corpse's skull in a sickening crunch of metal and bone.

You scramble away, neck and arm in pain. Hobie's wide eyes meet yours just as when the back door bursts open, revealing a whole horde of the undead. Panicking, he yanks you up, holding your hand, running outside to more of the shambling dead.

“Fuck!”

“Hobie!”

“Just hold on!” His hand is tight around yours, you try to run at his pace, panic in your veins, adrenaline in his.

It feels like you've been running forever, Hobie sees an opening hidden in an alley. He can climb on his own without a ladder but you can't. So he leads you towards the empty alley while the rotten, decayed corpses of once human beings run after you at full speed.

Hobie jumps to take down an emergency ladder, without missing a beat, he grabs your waist and throws you on the ladder. You climb, but the pain in your arm gets worse so you're slower but you still try for him.

The undead finally gets to the alley, you don't dare to look down. Once you're on the rooftop, you peek below to see him struggling to get up the ladder, he's halfway with a handful of zombies dangling on his leg.

You scream his name but it's too late, one of the undead has bitten a chunk of his leg as he tries to kick the former human off the ladder where he's desperately trying to climb to. You wish he didn't run out of web fluid, you wish the world didn't end, you wish the throbbing pain on your arm is just muscle spasm, but the warm crimson seeping out of teeth marks says differently.

With a sickly crunch, the zombie falls down the ladder and into the rotten horde. Hobie climbs up quickly back to you, hands immediately grasping on to you.

“Did it get you?!” You yell, still in denial, frantically checking in hopes that his boot saved him. Your heart falls into your stomach at the sight of broken skin, blood staining your fingers where you hold the hem of his trousers away to get a better look. You're frozen on the spot, tears clinging to your lashes. “Hobie,” you gasp, taking off your scarf to make a makeshift tourniquet around and above the bite. “Fuck—!”

“You okay?!” He does the same to you, heaving, ripping off your sleeves like a madman trying to find the secrets hidden in your skin. He prays that he finds none. His eyes widen, terrified, broken hearted, shaking his head, refusing the fact that you're infected. “No,” he shakes his head again, closing the torn up cloth around the slowly rotting wound. “It's just a scratch, love, y-you’re not—”

“Hobie…” you smile bitterly, eyes mirroring his own. He rips the hem of his shirt, using the cloth to wrap it around your arm, just above the wound in an attempt to stop the spread. He ignores the stinging pain on his leg. “Hobie, stop, it's—”

“We can still stop it!” He yells desperately, tying the cloth tightly. “It's just a scratch.”

“Hobie, please.” You hold his trembling hands, “it has been ten minutes.” He refuses, you squeeze his hand weakly, the virus already taking hold. Slowly killing you. “And—” with trembling hands, you show him the gaping bite on your neck, oozing dark decaying blood. He choked on a sob. “B-but there's a chance for you, your abilities might've made you immune—”

“No, if you're goin’, ‘m goin’” He stands up, not giving up on you. “There's a chemist’s ‘ere, maybe if w-we…” he puts on a brave face amidst the impending doom and rotten flesh that stings his nose. “Maybe there's somethin’ there.” Hand reaching down, you smile up at him, orange and pink hues from the sky dancing around your face. “C-can you get up?” His voice breaks, chest heaving. “I can carry you. Don't make me carry you, love.”

You slide your hand onto his own. “Hobie,” your voice is soft above the mindless groaning below. His eyes beg you to move. So you do. “Okay,” with a single word, you bring him hope.

With divided effort, you both make it towards the roof of the pharmacy. He was uncharacteristically silent the whole way, but his hand never left yours. His eyes never met with your wounds that's slowly festering. You feel it inside you, the fever, the virus that's eating at you, spreading throughout your body, gnawing at every bit of your warmth like a seed taking root. Hobie feels it too, he's terrified that you're experiencing it too. It's his worst fears came to life only because he wasn't fast enough.

Opening the creaky door, he hopes that it's devoid of the undead. Like he's not on the brink of eating flesh, he does his usual prep. He strums his guitar softly to attract any walking corpses waiting behind doors, when none comes out, he cracks the door wider. With his torch, he lights up the way. But he doesn't feel your presence behind him.

Looking over his shoulder was a mistake, he finds you hunched over the doorway, groaning quietly, nails clawing at the throbbing wound around your neck. That's the moment he knew that you'd go out before him. For the first time, he curses his gifts.

Slowly, he crosses the distance towards you, shaking hands grasping your shoulders. You're warm, incredibly warm. “Love?” He could cry, but he doesn't want you to see his sorrow.

You sniff, tears streaming down your face from the pain and the tragedy of it all. You've accepted that you were infected, but not him, you'd take the virus from him too if you could. “I'm s-sorry, so fucking sorry. I should've—”

“Oi, none of that, yeah? You're gonna be fine.” He says it to convince himself. “You'll be back on your feet tomorrow and by then we'll see Yuri and the others.” Nodding, he takes you by your arm, careful of making your wounds worse. There's blood sticking to his clothes, seeping through his clammy skin. He hates the fact that it was yours. Bringing you behind the counter, you almost keep over. “I've got you, I've got you.” He says it against your temple like a prayer.

“H-Hobie.” You sob, salty tears marring your pretty face. “I can't— it hurts.” The gnawing feeling gets worse, as if a chainsaw is ripping you apart from the inside. “It's so hot, I–I can't breathe.”

“O-okay, I'll set you down ‘ere, get you comfortable. There's some fever meds over there. It'll help.” His hazel eyes pleads for anyone, anything that'll help you. He helps you sit down, and you immediately lie down on the cold tiles. “Do you want a blanket?”

“N-no,” you're hot and cold at the same time. “I don't know.” You look up at him, he sees the light in your eyes fading. “I don't feel so good, Hobs.”

Hobie could only look away from you, inhaling, exhaling but it doesn't feel like he's breathing right. He kneels down, setting his guitar next to you, palm placed on your forehead. “This is nothing, love.” He tries to smile, but fails. “Remember when you had the flu?” You nod weakly, “you were a fuckin' beast, you beat it on your own in just a few days.”

Even though you feel your heartbeat going faster and then slowing down in a weird rhythm like a heartbeat monitor going haywire, you smile for him. “I was, wasn't I?”

He rubs your bicep, under his touch, he feels your muscle twitch. “Yeah, you still are.”

You chuckle softly, tears sliding down your cheeks and into the cold tiles. “Okay, get me the meds.”

“That's my girl,” laying his forehead atop yours, he hopes that he'll take your pain away with the simple gesture, but it's futile. “I'll be back, I promise.”

“Don’t make me wait.”

Smiling, he squeezes your arm. “Never.” Standing up, he rummages through the entire place for the pills you need. Crouching down to check under the broken shelves, climbing up on the walls to get a bird's eye view, and all the while ignoring his own pain. It's slim pickings, but he manages to find a single bottle of tylenol that has rolled under a shelf, it's not enough, but it'll do.

With a victorious sigh, he quickly makes it to the counter, rounding the corner, he sees you wheezing, catching your breath and with blood leaking out from your eyes and ears. “No, no, no!” He takes you in his arms, making you sit up. “I've got the meds, love. Oi, open your eyes for me.” You crack one eye open tiredly. “That's it, good job.” He almost cries when you smile at him through the thick fog of illness.

“G-good job,” you murmur, he doesn't know if you're delirious or you're congratulating him for finding the medicine.

“Bottoms up.” He brings two pills to your mouth, to which you gladly take. Giving you his canteen, you drink most of it, downing the tepid water. “That's good, see, you're already gettin' better.”

You shake your head weakly, barely opening your eyes. “Thanks to you, Hobie.”

“Yeah, thanks to me.” He tries to joke but it comes out choked when blood still leaks out of your tear ducts. Sitting next to you, he now feels his temperature rise so he takes the same amount of pills as you.

You lay your head on his shoulder, hand shakily reaching towards his own. “I'm sorry.”

He almost breaks down at your apology. “Nothin' to apologize for, love.” Meeting your hand halfway, he intertwined his fingers with yours, you're cold now, frozen under his hold. “D’you want that blanket now?”

“Please,” you wheeze out.

Hobie obliges, taking a thick blanket from his pack and then draping it around you as if it'll protect you from the infection. “There, nice and cozy, eh?”

“Thank you,” he feels your crimson fall down on his collar. “For everything.”

“None of that, Y/N, please. None of that.”

“I still want to talk to you.” Your voice is soft and small. “I still want to stay with you.”

Hobie brings your intertwined hands to his lips, kissing each knuckle softly. “And we will be, after this—” a sob escapes from him. “After this, we'll be together, yeah? Just like how we talked about.”

“Forever and ever?”

His tears flow freely, “yeah, forever and ever.” After a beat of silence, he fears the worst. “Love?”

You cough, he sighs in relief. “Still here, Hobs, not leaving yet.”

“Not yet,” embracing you, he lays his chin atop your head, you're made comfortable in his hold. Home, you feel like you're back home in his houseboat, watching a shitty romcom while he rambles on about his patrol. You want to be back there again. He wants to be back there again. “Can I say somethin'?”

You hum into his chest, squeezing his hand tighter but your sickness, he barely felt it.

“I don't want to…” he could barely say it. “I don't want to kill you. ‘m sorry, I know we talked about it—”

You lean up, he's met with milky eyes, he knows you can barely see him now. “Then don't, I don't want you to—” you pause, clinging to humanity. “— to feel that before you go.”

Nodding, he kisses your forehead, crying, weeping into your skin. “I couldn't save you, ‘m so fuckin' sorry, love, ‘m so sorry.” He shakes, you gather enough strength to embrace him and bury yourself in his chest, letting his scent waft around you for comfort.

“Don't apologize, nothin' to apologize for.”

He sniffs, peppering your face with heavy weakened kisses. “Oi, don't use my own words against me.”

You smile against the rough leather of his jacket. “Can I say something?”

“Go,” he can practically see the countdown. “We have all the time in the world, love.” There's something warm leaking out of his eyes and ears. He's catching up to you.

You'd laugh but you can feel your life slipping through your fingers. “When we turn, I don't want us to be separated.”

“What do you propose?” He tries to inhale but he could only let out a sickening cough.

“Tie our hands together…really tight.” Your words fade away, but you still hold on.

“I've got rope here, I can do it now.”

“But I'll turn first, Hobie, I-I might—”

“It'll be my honour to be your first meal.”

“I'd laugh if we weren't dying right now.” Eyes too tired to open, you feel the rough rope around your wrist, and the unmistakable sound of a knot getting tied. You smile for the last time when you feel his fingers wrap around your own. “I love you.”

“How's that? Too tight?” He whispers close, he feels you slipping away, “Y/N? Love?” he breaks down when your hand falls limp around his own. “Not yet, please, not yet.” He holds you, rocking you back and forth like a babe needing to be held. Your heart doesn't beat in sync with his anymore. “C’mon, not yet, we still have to find the rest of the band, right?” His eyes cloud over, cold taking root inside his entire body. “Say somethin’, fuck!” He yells with all his might, “I love you, fuck, please wake up.”

Closing his eyes, he wraps you in what's left of his warmth. “Don't go, please.” Hobie pleads and cries until he can no longer breathe the same air as you. His last thoughts were of you.

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wcnderlnds · 17 hours ago

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here for you | peter parker

・❥・ summary: after getting kicked out, peter comes to the rescue like always ・❥・word count: 1.1k ・❥・warnings: n/a ・❥・ authors note: this is my first time writing for my beloved peter parker!! its also the first time ive wrote anything in like a month. this was a request from this list. feel free to request any!

The rain was falling hard in New York City. It was one of those cold, rainy nights that had most people bustling through the streets with their umbrellas hurrying to get home. Unfortunately, you were one of those people. The heavy thud of the raindrops falling on your umbrella and the usual sound of the busy New York traffic were the only things keeping you grounded in that moment. The puddles on the pavement soaked your favourite pair of boots as you aimlessly wandered, suitcase full of belongings trailing along with you as you dragged it across the concrete. This wasn’t how your day was supposed to go. Your original plan had been to sit in front of the fire, cup of cocoa in your hand as you watched Love Actually. Too bad you had forgotten to pay your darn rent.

Money had been tight lately. Balancing a part time job and university was no easy feat. So much so that you had ended up sacrificing your job for the sake of your mental health. You had thought your savings would be enough until you had a better grip on things to find another job but you were wrong. The well had run dry and after another missed rent payment, your landlord had kicked you out.

When it rained, it definitely poured.

As you stepped into a particularly deep puddle, the familiar sound of a ‘thwip’ sounded above you. Craning your neck up, you spotted none other than the famous Spider-Man perched on a lamppost, head tilted as he looked at you almost like he was examining you. The corners of your lips almost tugged up into a smile as you imagined the concern in his eyes under that mask. Peter Parker had shared his secret with you almost the day he’d found out himself. You were his best friend after all – the two of you told each other everything. The eyes on his mask widened in questioning.

“Got kicked out,” you shrugged. Saying it out loud made it feel all the more real. Not that walking through the streets with everything you owned in a suitcase didn’t.

After checking to make sure nobody was around to hear, Peter spoke. “Meet me at my place. Gotta take care of something first.”

With that, he swung away no doubt on his way to tackle some crime. At least in a city like New York, Spider-Man was never short of something nefarious to keep him occupied. The whole city was like a hub for superheroes and criminals at this point. It was so much so that you were almost desensitised to it. Maybe that had something to do with the fact your best friend was one of those superheroes. Your feet carried you to Peter’s apartment, knocking on the door when you approached. No answer. He must still be out. A sigh passed your lips as you sat on the floor, back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of you as you waited for that nerdy, cute friend of yours to arrive. The raindrops from your jacket were dripping on the floor. Huh, you hadn’t realised it had been raining that hard. Probably too lost in your own thoughts.

It was ten minutes later when the door to the apartment opened – Peter must have swung in through his window. The pros of being Spider-Man meant you didn’t have to deal with such meander things as walking. Sometimes you wished that spider had bit you so you could swing your way through the city without a care. His mask was in his hand as you stepped through the threshold, the door shutting behind you. His big, brown eyes looking at you with concern.

“I know you have questions and I’ll answer but I really need to get out of these wet clothes right now,” you cringed as you pulled your jacket off, your jeans sticking to your legs.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, sure, sure. You can… use the bathroom. You know where it is,” Peter nodded, his cheeks tinting pink at the mere thought of you getting changed in his apartment. He knew he shouldn’t have thoughts like that but he couldn’t help himself. Throughout the years Peter had somewhat started to develop feelings for you. It was something he beat himself up about every single day because there was no way you felt the same way for him. Why would you? You were incredible and he was… him. No, Peter would always keep this secret to himself. There was no way he was ever going to lose you so if it only meant friendship then he’d take it.

“You should have told me you were struggling to pay rent!” Peter exclaimed. Once both of you had gotten changed, you’d situated yourselves on Peter’s couch, a blanket thrown over the two of you as you filled him in on your situation.

“Peter, no offence but you can barely afford to pay your own rent let alone help me.”

“I would’ve found a way.”

A smile lit up your face, hand reaching out to give his a squeeze. “I know and I am so lucky to have someone like you looking out for me like that but I could never ask that of you.”

Peter’s eyes glanced down at your hand atop his, barely containing how sweaty his palm was starting to feel at your simple touch. He was down bad. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed down a gulp, shaking his head. “You know I’m always going to be there for you, right? Always. No matter what happens. I would do anything and everything in this world to help you and protect you. There’s nothing more precious to me than you.”

His words hit you straight in the feelings, your heart beating a mile a minute like it was about to burst out of your chest. The sincere look in his eyes, the way he always seemed to make you his number one priority – there was nobody who looked after you as fiercely as Peter did. Despite everything he’d been through with his family and losing Gwen, he had never let you down. The second your eyes met his it was like the whole world had stopped still. Your breath hitched, caught in your throat as Peter’s delicate fingers reached out to gently tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. His thumb brushed your cheek, the gesture making your stomach do flips.

“Stay here with me…. for as long as you want,” his voice was barely above a whisper.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” you leaned into his touch. The moment lingering between you, neither wanting it to end. There would be many, many more moments just like this one – you just didn’t know it yet.

taglist: @strawb3rrystar @decaf-mother @ldydeath @mistysconcilium

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #andrew garfield #peter parker imagine #my fics

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 2 months ago

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Enigma (Joel's Version)

A home tour and 400 word drabble celebrating Chapter 4 of Elks.

A/N: Doing this a little different because the reblogging a reblog game can be a little pestery for some. No playlist this week, to honor reader's long gone stereo. So, I've been playing The Sims longer than some of you have been ALIVE.) Please enjoy my Elks girl's home. I wish it was a little more run down, but I can only do so much without custom content. Also, peep the reader I designed in CAS. (If you have any PPCU inspired Sims creations PLEASE SHOW THEM TO ME.) So, just like Joel walked into her home in this chapter, now you can too.

“Sooooo,” Tommy looks at him from across the fire with the shit-eating grin that has always spelled trouble for him. “Maria couldn’t sleep last night, said she saw you comin’ home early Sunday morning.”

Shrugging, Joel doesn’t look up, keeping his attention on the knife in his hand as he works it against the wood. A little bird is slowly taking shape, it reminds him of the sparrow you painted on your cracked mirror.

“Oh, come on now. Ain’t nobody here but us. I think I know exactly where you were comin’ from," Tommy teases, dragging out your name with a smirk.

Joel shakes his head and shrugs, a bit of shyness rears its head. “It’s not–s’not like that.” He knows Tommy can sense his lie.

“Hey, even if it is,” Tommy’s big brown eyes crinkle at the edges with a smile, “I’m glad.”

He nods, too afraid to acknowledge to someone else the feelings for you that have planted inside of him.

He felt something for Tess–of course he did. All those years spent together he never allowed himself to truly feel for her, but the second he realized he’d lose her forever, regret entered his heart. Then, Bill’s letter let the regret take over his whole body.

I used to hate the world, and I was happy when everyone died. But I was wrong because there was one person worth saving.

He couldn’t save Tess, but he could save Ellie.

And you? You didn’t need saving. You’re safe amongst the people he now calls neighbors, behind the walls he’s now guarding while on patrol. He wants to be the one to protect you, to care for you.

“Joel, look, it’s time for you to be happy,” Tommy comforts, sensing his inner turmoil. “I know you won’t listen to me, but–you’re allowed to be cared for.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Tommy–his little brother, the one person on this earth who used to know the old Joel Miller. He looks up from the little bird, remembering how serene he felt opening his eyes yesterday and looking around your beautiful home then looking down to watch your peaceful, pretty face in slumber. He wants to do it again.

“I know,” he nods, watching Tommy’s grin spread wide.

“Hell yeah brother.”

More home pics under the cut!

Taglist. Let me know if you’d like to be removed or added.

@ohheypedrito, @magpiepills, @secretelephanttattoo, @goodwithcheese, @copperhalfcent

@yopossum, @burntheedges, @noisynightmarepoetry, @moel-jiller, @tinytinymenace

@sawymredfox, @bardot49, @maggiemayhemnj, @jolapeno, @chrysochromulina

@vickie5446, @dancinglotusbud, @cozylittlepigeon, @chippedowlmug

Thank you @saradika-graphics for the headers!

Next Chapter

#elks #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #the sims #the sims but make it pedro

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uchi4nlog · 1 year ago

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♩ ࣭ ׄ ្͏ ͏͏ ͏͏ love so differently the same , taehyun.

gn!reader ، wc: 2k ، genre: sweet fluff, glettrs worthy ، tw: none.

note: listen to 'why' for a better reading.

how could such different people be brought together? it's funny how destiny works.

it starts with something simple as how much of a rational thinker he is than you. you always think with your heart, prioritizing emotions over any deep thoughts. but he thinks and analyzes everything with many perceptions until his final word.

he prefers sleeping with the ac off, argumenting that ‘it's too cold already for a human being to possibly live’. but you feel hot just by thinking about covering yourself with the big duvets.

it's not that you two disliked each other's differences. if anything, it was what made you fall for him even more.

but isn't that the way people usually fall in love? by the curiosity of one another?

every time you talked to him, you found yourself drawn to his round shaped eyes. full of knowledge and also some sort of childish mischief. maybe it was the deep brown shade that colored his pupils, that makes everything and anything he says sounds so smart.

finding yourself more and more curious every day to know more about him, you started to make a list - of course, mentally. you didn’t have the energy to write every single intriguing thing about him down on a piece of paper - of all the things that made him so especially beautiful to you.

maybe it all started with his very unique mannerisms. a cute scratch on the back of his neck every time he was unsure of something or just shy about a quick remark you made. the adorable and sweet sound of his laugh, that could make you do anything to play it on repeat. the passion and glitter on his eyes every time he talked about something that he found so interesting. oh, and you could also add another thing onto that: when he loves something, he loves it with all of his heart. there wasn’t a fifty fifty percent for him. he will either love it or dislike it.

and just maybe, that was what made taehyun love you so much. the confidence and sureness that he loved you more than anything in this world.

little did you know that in the same way you love to pay attention to what makes you two different, so did he.

secretly learning how to cook your favorite homemade food, listening to this one album that you can’t stop talking about, memorizing your favorite colors, how you tend to get things easily confused and need to get it explained more than once. nothing goes unnoticed by him.

taehyun loves how you could bring out a new side of him. a side that he wanted to keep for you and only to you. he could stay being ‘cold as antarctica’ to the world. he would be saving all the kisses on the forehead, sweet nothings and laughs at midnight for you.

★ taglist: @impureperhaps @sunoooism @itgirlgyu @mazeinthemoon @hyukult

★ status: taglist and requests currently open! send me an ask or comment to be added.

© gyuletters, 2023 - do not repost, copy, or translate. // just wanted to say that this fic is very highly self-based, meaning: i wrote it for myself bcs my love for taehyun is unbearable and i wish i could date him. tysm for coming to my ted talk LMAO. tysm for reading it until the end. i really hope you liked it. ilyy~!!

with love,

star. xoxo

#͏͏ ͏͏ ͏͏.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ͏͏ ͏͏ ͏© glettrs official ͏ ͏͏ ͏͏ ͏͏ ͏!! ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏#tomorrow x together #txt fics #txt imagines #txt x reader #txt fluff #txt soft hours #kang taehyun #taehyun #taehyun fics #taehyun imagines #taehyun x reader #taehyun fluff #taehyun soft hours

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things-arent-what-they-seem66 · 8 months ago

Note

Okay I got more angst prompts, not from the list this time. Consider:

After the final battle, after the hotel is rebuilt, when Lucifer finally gets the chance to go home and rest, it all hits him at once. Adam is actually dead. He didn't feel bad about it in the moment at all but now it's hitting him that Adam is dead and gone and oh no I killed one of the first people I ever loved. (Niffty wouldn't have been able to kill him if not for Lucifer, so he would have enough reason to blame himself) He's struck by grief, that love having never truly left. Charlie finds him, and comforts him.

Mayhaps her reaction finding out that her father loved Adam, their enemy? Mayhaps Luci's reaction when Adam respawns as a sinner? Up to you!

Indigo (struck with the desire to hurt my favourite characters emotionally)

*Sips coffee* Ahhh, after battle angst. Thank you for this! Please send more if you'd like :)

Lucifer hadn't had time to really let it sink in now, in his new room alone. He sat down on his bed, his chest weighed like a ton of bricks.

Adam was dead. He was dead dead as in no coming back. He still remembers the angelic blade going through the angels chest. All that blood.....

Lucifer felt his eyes pool with water. His first love was dead and he let him die. His heart clenched in his chest. Fuck. He thought he was over Adam, but guess not.

At the moment he didn't care. He was still angry that Adam would try and hurt Charlie. But he was going to let him live, Adam may have been an asshole but he was HIS asshole.

Then Charlie's little friend killed him.....

"Fucking hell." He swore as he scrubed the tears from his face. Closing his eyes, Lucifer could still see Adams face. Not the one from the battle field. The one in the garden.

Even then his eyes were bright and golden in color like honey. Soft brown hair ruffled and wild on his head, smile wide and breathtaking. Oh, how Lucifer wished he could go back to those days.

'Will we be friends forever, Luci?'

'Every day is amazing when I'm with you.'

'Luci, I think I lov-'

"FUCK!" Lucifer screamed, he gripped his hair painfully. "I'M SORRY! I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE I'M SORRY!!" He sobbed. He was just destined to never save his favorite human was he? Adam was all he ever wanted and now he was gone for good.

"Dad, are you busy there's some- Dad? Are you okay?" Charlie came in and sat down beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"No." Was all he said, the guilt was weighing on him.

Charlie frowned. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I loved him so much."

Charlie blinked and looked at her dad. "Who?"

Lucifer sniffed. "Adam." Not the answer Charlie thought she'd hear. "He was my first love Charlie, I was there when he was made from the dust of the earth. I showed him how to do many things. That man on the battlefield, the one filled with hate for demons. That was my fault. When your mother came into the picture I was blinded by her beauty that I didn't see who she really was." This was not a conversation to have right now. "I broke Adams heart when I chose her. I ruined something beautiful for something extra."

"But, he was the enemy. How could you love him?" She just didn't understand.

Lucifer smiled sadly. "You didn't know him like I did. The beautiful soul I knew he always was." And he was, Adam had a soul that shined so bright it was blinding. He just had up so many walls after Eden.

"What if he's not as dead as we thought?"

"Huh?" Lucifer looked at his daughter. "What do you mean?"

Charlie bit her lip. "That's why I came up here. Adam is here. Downstairs. As a sinner."

Lucifer never ran so fast in his life. Faster than Charlie could keep up, her cries in the distance. He flew down the stairs and stopped in his tracks when he got to the lobby.

There he was. In all his glory. Adam stood with his back to Lucifer, he had long black and gold horns that curved around to the back of his head like his exterminator mask horns. He was looking at his newly formed demon hands, black up to his elbow with claws sharp like knives. His robes were now black and red, slightly tattered and still dirty. He had hooves now and likely a mouth full of sharp teeth.

He was beautiful.

He was alive.

"Adam?"

Adam jumped at the sound of his name and turned to face the devil. "Lucifer." His voice sounded rough but the same. His golden eyes were firey with anger, Lucifer could just imagine how he felt about being a sinner.

"You're here?"

"I know, the fucking shocked too."

Even if he hated him, Lucifer could deal with that as long as Adam was alive and well. "Gonna give redemption a shot?"

"Might as well." Adam crossed his arms, an unimpressed look on his face.

"Swell! Let me give you the tour and get you settled into a room." Lucifer took Adam by the hand and led the way, all while the sinner followed him, grumpy and cursing under his breath. "You know, if you ever need protection down here. I'd be willing to provide it."

Adam scoffed. "Yeah, for my soul."

Lucifer looked back at him. "Would that really be so bad? To be completely safe, always?" His voice echoed around them. "I would never let anything happen to you, Adam."

He didn't miss the way Adam's face pinched pink at his words.

Maybe second chances do happen.

#adamsapple #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x adam #ask

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catiecat1320 · 2 months ago

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Participating in Sonadowtober this year!! Really excited and probably gonna fail but we ball

Prompt 1: “I Found You, Faker!”

Read Below 🔽

Of course it had to rain.

It was as if some higher force had cursed him with terrible luck. It might as well suddenly start thunderstorming now.

The original plan had been simple enough, but things rarely ever turn out as expected. For once Sonic wished everything would go smoothly. But no, there was a faker using his face, running around and getting him accused of unspeakable acts.

Heh. Sounds familiar…

He absentmindedly played with the device on his wrist, hoping to trigger something that could help him. An umbrella, maybe. He was getting drenched.

Stupid imposter and their stupid tricks. Although he wasn’t exactly playing hero here, he wouldn’t ever go out of his way to hurt someone purely for the sake of an act. But the few that had spotted his face probably didn’t believe that, and so he’d rather keep anyone else ignorant of his true identity.

Hard to do when his face is uncovered.

Sonic smacked the device and sighed. Standing up, he wiped the rain from his eyes and looked up at the whole procession of vehicles, hoping to find a relatively clear path. He needed to keep up. Man, it’d been so long since he’d been chased like this, he was getting out of practice. Let’s see…

“Found you.”

A sharp PING of metal on metal, and the next thing Sonic knows, he’s falling, the gear knocked out from right under him. Managing to snag his perpetrator’s board just barely, he sighs a short lived breath of relief as an all too familiar voice whispers, “...Sonic?”

Ruby eyes bore holes in him as he looks up. Protected by a hood, they seem to glow in the dark. A bit too menacing for his liking. “Hey, Shadow! Fancy seeing you here!” Sonic laughs, flashing the best smile he could muster while dangling what was likely thousands of feet above ground. “New fit?”

His rival scowled, tugging his brown cloak tighter. “I should be asking you that.”

“It’s… not what it looks like, I swear.”

“Then explain. Now.”

“Could I at least get my gear back first?” Sonic eyes the board floating away in the wind, silently willing it to return. It didn’t work.

“I said now.”

“Alright, alright! Long story short, something fishy’s going on with Cleansweep. Tails and Amy are in the big shuttle right now, investigating it. I was supposed to create a distraction with this fancy getup, which worked pretty well until someone copied my whole schtick and made it worse. And now my thingy’s broken—” he shakes the malfunctioning device for emphasis “—and everyone who saw me thinks I’m the bad guy. Crazy, I know. But you gotta believe me—”

“I do.”

“I…! Uh… wait what?”

“I believe you.” Shadow grabs his wrist and pulls him onto the board. “You do many things, but you’d never hurt anyone without cause. That whole act was unlike you.”

“Gee, thanks I guess.” That saved a lot of talking. Sonic supposed he underestimated his rival’s understanding of him. He couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his mouth as Shadow flew him over to his drifting Eggstreme Gear. Of all people… Shadow might have been the best one to run into, ironically.

“Stop smiling like that. You look stupid.” Shadow undoes his cloak and tosses it at Sonic, who fumbles with it in surprise.

“What’s… this for?”

“You are stupid.”

“What—!” Then it clicks. “Ohhhh. Oh yeah, I knew that. Cloak. Disguise. Duh. But uh… don’t you need it?”

Shadow shakes his head. “I brought it along for the rain. It’d be of more use to you. I can handle getting wet.”

“...Thanks, dude.” Sonic smiles as he puts it on. Unfortunately, his rival immediately ruins their nice moment with a glare.

“Don’t ‘dude’ me.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He rolled his eyes. Typical Shadow. He can’t say he was surprised. “Didya have to ruin the moment?”

Shadow doesn’t answer his question, instead turning his board around to leave. He doesn’t get far before Sonic calls after him. “Wait… where are you going?”

“You’re handling this just fine on your own.”

“But… That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I have faith in you. You don’t need me to hold your hand any more than I want to. Do your part, and I’ll do mine.”

Shadow’s expression is the perfect blend of unreadable and untouchable. Crimson eyes lock onto emerald with a look that makes Sonic glad he’s no longer on the opposing side.

“If you’re really curious… I’ve got a faker to find.”

#sonadowtober #sonadowtober 2024 #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sonadow #phantom rider #sonic idw #oneshot #writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #cross posted on ao3 #CatieCatWorks

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m1dnyt3-w0lf · 7 months ago

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Blazing Meeting Part 2

Ghostrider x Farmer!F!Reader

Part 1

Summary: Johnny is closed off, leaving you to wonder what is going on with him

You didn't know you had fallen asleep until you felt someone nudging at your arm. You opened your eyes to immediately meet those of the daredevil. Oh gods, he was so close. He was…You shot up, shocked he was standing in front of you.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.” Johnny said. He held a plate of food in front of you. Just some eggs, hash browns, and sausage. The smell had your mouth watering. “I made breakfast.”

“Where did you go last night?” You asked after finding your voice and taking the plate of food. Johnny froze.

After discovering him gone, you stayed in the guest house. You sat on the sofa to wait for him to return. You, obviously, fell asleep before he did.

“I, uh, went to do some thinking.” He said, putting on the most serious face he could muster. You arched an eyebrow.

“And did riding your motorcycle and lighting my pasture on fire help you think?” There was venom in your words that made Johnny wince.

“Listen, I can explain-”

“Why did you lie to me?”

“I didn't lie.”

“Then how the hell did you get that bike going if it had no gas?!” You demanded. Johnny’s jaw set. He seemed to be weighing his options with the way his eyes flicked between spaces on the floor and shined with nervousness.

“I…you'll think I'm crazy if I told you.” He said, finally looking at you. You stared into those intense blue eyes before breaking away.

“Ugh, fine, don't tell me.” You huffed, finally digging into the breakfast Johnny had handed you earlier. He looked taken aback.

“You don't want to know?” You shook your head, swallowing.

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“Man this is good. I didn't think a superstar knew how to cook.” You said through a mouthful. Johnny simply looked exasperated.

“Thanks,” he said quickly. “Why don't you want to know?” You halted and looked up at him, fork halfway to your mouth. You sighed and set your fork down as you looked at him more fully.

“When someone starts with ‘you'll think I'm crazy’ it's almost always a lie. Besides, when you've lived alone for as long as I have, you learn to care less about other people.” You say bluntly.

“Well…I mean, yeah, but…” He seemed to be at a loss for words. You watched with a small smile, eating your food. It really was good.

“Huh. Alright.” He looked at you for a moment, the very act making your cheeks burn.

“What time is it?” You asked, trying to distract yourself from the feelings that started to swirl in your heart.

“It’s, uh,” he checked his watch, “ten a.m.”

“What?!” Your eyes bulged out of your sockets as your fork fell with a clatter. Johnny jumped.

“Is everything alright?” He asked as he watched you grab your fork and start shoveling eggs into your mouth. “Slow down, you'll choke!”

“Did you eat?” You asked him through a mouthful, ignoring his question.

“What?” You swallowed and asked your question again. “Oh, yeah, yeah, I did.”

“Good, we leave as soon as I'm dressed.”

“Really?”

“You want to make it to town before nightfall, don't you?” He didn't argue with that.

“Does this thing have air conditioning?”

“Nope.”

“You're kidding.”

“Wish I was. I can't afford to get it fixed.” Silence.

“I'm paying for this damn thing to be fixed.”

That was the first thing you both had said to each other since the start of the car ride. It was nothing but pure silence, save for the jostling of the old truck and the motorcycle in the back. Johnny tried to play music, but considering you were in the middle of nowhere, no radio stations broadcasted out there. You purse your lips as the silence settles thickly and practically choked out all the air.

“So, how did the bike have fuel?” You asked finally.

“What?” Johnny asked, calling out over the wind roaring through the open windows.

“I said, ‘how did the bike have fuel?’” You repeated louder.

“Oh, I guess it just did.” He said, avoiding the question. You purse your lips, but don't press further. You could tell he was hiding something. You didn't know what, but it had to be something. Maybe he did commit those murders?

Silence befell you both once more. You weren't sure what to talk about, and it seemed Johnny didn't either. You worried your bottom lip, wondering if the silence was welcomed or not. If you should say something or not. Should you try humming?

Who the fuck hums? You thought to yourself.

“How long have you been farming?” Thank goodness your inner torment didn't last long.

“I'd have to say shy of twenty years? I started back when I was sixteen.”

“Wow, so that makes you…” You gave him a side glance, and he had the courtesy to keep quiet. You roll your eyes.

“Yes, that makes me thirty-six.” And only a couple years younger than you.

“Ah.” The awkward silence that fell after was palpable. Neither of you made another effort at conversation.

Due to the late start to your travels, you didn't reach the town until sunset. Johnny was getting increasingly antsy the closer nightfall came. He constantly asked ‘how much farther until the town,’ ‘how much farther until the hotel,’ and ‘will these hotel people hurry up?!’ Needless to say, neither of you had sighed a breath of relief until you both had received your room keys.

“We can go get that gas filled up after we put our things in our rooms.” You told him as you both entered the elevator.

“Uh, yeah, about that…” He started to trail off as he scratched the back of his neck. You immediately shot him a glare.

“What about it?” Your eyes narrowed, and your nostrils flared. Johnny had the proper sense to not meet your eye.

“Listen, we've been on the road for hours, we should get some rest and leave tomorrow.” He tried.

“I'm not tired.”

“Well, I am.”

“You didn't even drive!”

“You can still get tired from traveling!”

“You just sat there in silence!”

“I got tired of you!” The screaming match halted. For some reason, you felt your heart fall to your feet. Johnny's anger was quick to subside.

“I didn't mean-” The elevator doors opened with a ding!, allowing you to run out of the previously enclosed space and away from him. Johnny was left alone, absolutely dumbfounded.

You slammed your room door behind you. A frustrated grunt tore out of your throat as you threw your duffle bag to an armchair in the room. You were thankful you had the forethought to pack for the trip.

A blessing in disguise, you suppose.

Tags: @symmetricalkazekage @thelaundrybitch @eveandtheturtles @raphsmuneca @crocs-blogs

#ghost rider #ghost rider x reader #female reader #m1dnyt3 w0lf #m1dnyt3 w0lf fanfic #johnny blaze

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apothe-roses · 1 year ago

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I Wanna Ride

modern Aemond Targaryen x reader

Part 2

Previous Part | Next Part

Summary: You go to your first biker meet with Aly and Cregan. After witnessing a bit of that classic Targ family tension, an opportunity arises. One that may require you to spend more time with your least favorite Targaryen.

Fic Contains: swearing, family tension, Aemond being a prick (again), sexual tension if you squint

Word Count: 2034

The sun has just set over the gathering in the heart of King’s Landing’s steel district. The air is alive with the sound of purring engines, shouts, and rock music playing. You look around, trying to take everything in at once.

You and Ally likely would’ve been swallowed by the crowd had it not been for Cregan serving as your personal buffer. With his height, he easily cut a path through the crowd for the two of you. One of his hands reaches behind him to hold Aly’s. Her other arm is linked in yours.

“Isn’t this fun?” Aly shouts.

“Yeah, I wish I’d gone to one of these sooner,” you respond just as loud.

“Really? Even the countless times I asked you to come with me?” Aly shoots back playfully.

“I was busy!” you argue.

“Excuses, excuses,” Aly retorts. “You were scaared.” She drags the last word out mockingly.

You elbow her playfully. She laughs and elbows you back.

“Well, at least you’re here now. Right, babe?” She directs the question to her boyfriend.

“Yeah, sure!” Cregan shouts over his shoulder. You’re pretty sure he wasn’t paying attention to your conversation at all.

Suddenly, Cregan raises his free hand and starts waving madly.

“Jace! Jace!” He shouts. He picks up his pace, dragging you and Aly with him.

You come to a less crowded area with picnic benches scattered about. Cregan makes a beeline towards one, letting go of Aly’s hand to engulf another guy in a bear hug. Cregan breaks the hug, ruffling his friend’s curly brown hair. You presume this is “Jace.”

“Aly! How’ve you been,” Jace asks, embracing her.

“I was doing great til I saw your ugly mug,” Aly teases, copying Cregan and ruffling his hair. Jace waves her off, laughing. Then he notices you.

“Hi! I’m Jace! Nice to meet you,” Jace says happily.

“My boyfriend’s boyfriend,” Aly explains over Jace’s shoulder. Jace turns to retort, but Aly takes refuge behind a laughing Cregan. Jace turns back to you, shaking his head.

“Come on. I saved us a table,” he said with a smile. He leads you all to a table where another boy—his brother Luke—sits. You all fall into easy conversation. You tell Jace and Luke about your new dragon, and they tell you about the new models they’re having a hand in developing.

“I thought only Targaryens were allowed to submit designs,” you say, confused.

“Oh, they didn’t tell you? Our mom’s Rhaenyra Targaryen,” Luke explains. Your mouth falls open.

“We take after our dad. Our little brother Joffrey is the same,” Jace adds in. Looking at him, you could see the resemblance to his father, Harwin Strong.

“Oh, wow,” you stammer, unable to find a response. Luckily, you didn’t have to as something catches Luke’s eye.

“Oh no,” he says, shrinking in his seat. You turn to where he’s looking. Walking through the crowd are none other than Aegon and Aemond Targaryen. Both Targaryens have ditched the coveralls you initially met them in. Aegon opted for a navy sweatshirt and jeans, a gold chain hanging around his neck. Aemond was wearing all black, from his leather jacket to his combat boots. His hair was only half pulled up, leaving the rest to hang down his chest.

They were accompanied by two people you immediately recognized as their siblings Daeron and Helaena.

The four siblings spot your group and start to make their way over. Well, three of them do. Aemond immediately turns and stalks off in a different direction. Helaena looks like she’s going to stop him, but Daeron shakes his head at her. You watch as Aemond disappears down an alley. When you turn back, you immediately lock eyes with Aly, who raises a brow and smirks a bit.

You scowl back at her, thinking back to the conversation you two had after getting your bike back.

“You didn’t mention he was hot!”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware the hotness of the mechanic was of any relevance!” Aly shot back sarcastically.

“You also didn’t mention he was…”

“Rude?”

“Yep.”

“Yeah, Aemond’s always been more on the antisocial side. Apparently the rudeness came in after the accident,” she whispers that last part (even though they were the only two people in the room).

“Accident?”

“Yeah. Something to do with his nephew. Never got the full story. All I know is that it really divided the family and they haven’t been the same since.”

That tension is evident in the strained smiles the remaining Targaryen siblings give your group.

“Hello nephews,” Aegon greets Jace and Luke. “And friends,” he finishes, sending a wink your way.

“Mind if we join you?” Helaena asks softly.

“Of course,” Jace answers, noticeably less tense with his aunt. Aegon and Daeron squeeze in on either side of Jace and Luke while Helaena takes a place on the edge of the bench next to you. You notice she has brightly colored earplugs in.

“I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Helaena,” she says softly. You tell her your name in response.

“The one who put Aemond in his place,” Aegon adds from his seat at the table.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset him,” you say

“Don’t be. Aemond’s funny when he’s mad,” Daeron laughs. You furrow your brows.

“We didn’t even interact for that long. I didn’t think I would make much of an impression on him,” you ponder.

“Oh, Arm’s not used to people talking to him at all. People tend to give him a wide berth when they come to the garage,” Aegon explains. “And you not only tried to make conversation but called him out on his bullshit. Honestly, I’m impressed.”

“It’s a shame, really,” Helaena muses. “He’s really nice once you get to know him.

“Everyone is nice to you Hel,” Daeron drawls.

“Still,” Helaena huffs.

The topic is dropped as the table makes meaningless small talk with each other. You tuned most of the conversation out til Aegon clasped his hands together.

“Look, nephews,” Aegon starts, leaning in. “Word on the street is that you know the location of the next Dragon Rally.”

“How do you know we know?” Jace asks.

“Because you don’t shut up about it,” Aly responds, causing Cregan to snort. Jace frowns at her. “Didn’t Grandpa tell any of you about it?” He directs the question to his relatives.

“Of course not,” Daeron scoffs. An awkward silence falls over the table.

“Aaanyways,” Cregan drags out. “You gonna come with us?” He looks at you over his girlfriend’s head. Aly turns to look at you as well.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you reply. The Dragon Rally was a rather secretive event despite its popularity. All you knew was that it involved a grueling ride to whatever location was picked that year and that it was sponsored by the Targaryen family.

“I don’t think I’ll have quite gotten the hang of riding by the time it rolls around,” you continue.

“Oh, Aemond can teach you!” Helaena exclaims. Everyone at the table turns to look at her as if she’s grown a second head.

“What? Vaghar and Meraxes are similar enough models. Plus, it could help patch things up between them.”

“As much as I’d hate to throw you to the wolves, she has a point,” Aegon says. “If anyone’s got the stuff to whip you into shape in a short amount of time, it’s Aemond.”

You look down at the table, thinking on what they said. You’ve spent a long time on the outskirts of this community, wanting to join on the fun but never finding the opportunity—or the courage. You didn’t want to miss out on any more.

“Why doesn’t Aly do it? They’re friends after all,” Jace asks.

“Trust me, Aly couldn’t teach a fish how to swim,” Cregan laughs, earning an elbow in the side from his girlfriend.

“I’m a great teacher,” Aly snaps at Cregan, who laughs and kisses the top of her head.

“Of course you are, love,” he says softly. Daeron pretends to gag, causing Helaena to scold him.

“You know I’d help you,” she says to you. “But my nephew and his gremlin friends are coming into town.” You nod sympathetically. You’ve met Benji Blackwood before. He’s a nice kid, but if he and his friends are in town…Aly’s brother’s gonna need all the help he can get.

“And before you ask, I won’t have the time to lend my expertise. And neither will you,” Cregan explains to Jace.

“Come on, there’s no harm in at least asking,” Aegon teases. You look up at him.

“Alright,” you say simply, rising from the bench.

“Wait, I didn’t mean right now!” Aegon shouts as you walk off in the direction Aemond disappeared in earlier.

Aemond leans against the brick wall, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“You know that’s bad for you, right?”

Aemond’s eye lands on you. He gives you a once over before removing the cigarette and letting out a puff of smoke.

“Oh. You,” he said flatly.

“Yes. Me,” you parrot back, matching his flat delivery. You swear you see a slight twinkle in his eye.

“I didn’t think events like this were your thing,” you say, folding your arms across your chest.

“They’re not,” Aemond responds curtly. He takes another drag. “My siblings practically kidnapped me. They think I don’t get out enough,” He scoffs.

“Based on the mercifully brief interaction we had, I’d wager they’re right,” you quip.

“Did they send you to drag me out there,” he asks, taking another puff.

“No, actually. I wanted to ask you about something.”

He raises an eyebrow at this. “Did you fuck up your bike already?”

“No,” you huff. “Though if I had, I could probably fix it myself.”

He angles his body towards you, his shoulder braces against the wall. “Could you now?”

You thought he was mocking you, but the look in his eyes…he looks more curious than anything.

“I brought her to you ‘cause I hit a dead end. Thought it would be good to get a second pair of eyes to look her over. Oh!” You mentally kick yourself for your poor word choice. “I didn’t mean—“

“It’s fine. Happens all the time,” Aemond interjects, though you see his jaw clench. “So, what did you want to ask me?”

You took a deep breath. “The Dragon Rally is coming up. I want to go with my friends,” you start.

“That ride is brutal,” he says, frowning. “You’d have to train hard to be ready by the time it rolls around.”

“I know. Which is why I want you to teach me,” you finish, bracing yourself for his response.

He doesn’t say anything, only gapes at you as if you’d spouted the most ludicrous idea in the world. “Why on earth would you want me to teach you?” He asks.

“Your sister suggested it,” you reply shyly. “And Aegon seconded the idea.”

He lowers his gaze with a hmm. You shift from foot to foot, waiting for his response.

“It’s going to be a lot of work. To start from absolutely nothing—“

“We wouldn’t be starting from nothing!” You interrupt.

“Wouldn’t we?” He quips back.

“I know the basics,” you explain.

“The basics,” he scoffed.

“And what’s wrong with that?” you ask incredulously. His lips curl into a smirk as he leans in close enough for you to feel his breath on your ear.

“Riding a dragon,” he purrs, “is anything but basic.”

You weren’t sure if he meant for that to come off as seductive as it did.Gods, why does his voice have to be so sexy?

“So will you do it?” You ask tentatively.

“Hmmm. I’ll think about it,” he responds.

You nod your head. At least it wasn’t an outright no. Not wanting to push your luck, you turn to walk away.

“But if I do say yes, I’ll want something in return,” he calls after you.

You freeze, looking back at him over your shoulder. “And what exactly will that be?”

“Haven’t decided yet,” he replies. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you do anything you’re not comfortable with.” You let out a small sigh of relief.

“But you’ll owe me,” he finishes. “And I never forget a debt.”

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Taglist: @valeskafics @carriellie @let-love-bleeds-red @wintrr13 @queenofshinigamis @seabasscevans @fangirlninja67 @toodlesxcuddles @almostpurplelady @goldenpanda16

Bold means I couldn’t tag you

Let me know if you want me to add you to the list! (Or be removed. No shame in that 😊)

#Aemond Targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #modern aemond x reader #modern!aemond x reader #I Wanna Ride Aemond fic

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saphiccarma · 10 months ago

Text

Title: the moon will sing a song for me

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Reader (briefish Natasha R x Reader, but not really)

Warnings: None.

{A/N: sorry if Natasha is a little ooc in this one. I hope this is as good as part 1}

Part 1

Things were supposed to be fine between you and Natasha, they were supposed to be fine. Things were fine. You were fine. Natasha was happily married to Maria, and you were happily....you were hapily running backend and doing their paperwork. At first it was difficult to work into a routine while staying at the tower, but it worked.

A few months ago you moved to compound with everyone, but thankfully your routine stayed the same. It was much more spacious in the compound. Tony gave you a bigger room, even though you protested, he claimed, "It's a raise." And raised his hand dismissively.

So yeah, everything was fine.

Right now, you were typing out paperwork after the latest disaster in Lagos. It may have been an accident, and in no way did you blame Wanda, but the paperwork was killing you. Meanwhile, you were pretty sure most of the avengers were out chilling in the main room. You decided to take a break and go check on Wanda.

Peeking into the mainroom, only Clint catching you and sending a small smile, you found no Wanda (and no Tony for that matter, which was odd) so you went to look in her room. You socked feet glided over the floor as you jogged over there before skidding to a halt and letting yourself slide on your socks with a soft laugh. Softly knocking on her door, you could hear television playing inside - the news by the sound of it.

When there was no reply you called out, "Wanda?"

It took a moment before there was a reply, and a hesitant one at that, "Come in."

Carefully you pushed the door open and stepped in. You had never actually been in Wanda's room before, taking in the bookshelf with small trinkets and cluttered desk. Wanda, herself, sat on the large, fluffy, bed. Her legs were sitting criss-crossed as her brown hair fell down past her shoulders. As you stepped closer, hesitating on where to sit, her lips twitched up and her amber-ish green eyes sparkled a little bit. The witch gestured for you to sit on the bed after your obvious hesitation.

You snatched the remote on the way and shut the TV off.

"It's my fault," Wanda spoke first as you sat on the bed, "Turn the TV back on."

"No."

"They're being very specific," her accent laid heavy on her words, it came out more when she was angry.

"It's not all your fault," you shook your head, "there were other's there. And not that I'm blaming him, Rumlow obviously said something to trigger something, but Steve was there first. You did the best you could so it didn't kill everyone in the vicinity."

"People died, that's on me," Wanda refuted her head turning to down as she fiddled with her sleeves.

"Wanda- this job-" you weren't quite sure what to say, comfort was never your thing.

"You try to save as many people as you can," Steve interrupted, and you could barely restrain yourself from glaring at his form leaning on the doorway, "that doesn't always mean everybody, but if we can't find a way to live with that, next time maybe nobody gets saved."

Before anybody could get another word in, there was a distinct sound, almost a whirring sound, and Wanda jumped before Vision phased into the room.

"Vis," she reprimanded, "we talked about this."

"Yes, but the door was open so I assumed-" he gestured to the door as if to make his point, then Wanda gave him a look, so he sighed, "Captain Rogers and Ms. Y/L/N wished to know when Mr. Stark was arriving."

"Thank you, we'll be right down," you said curtly.

Vision hesitated then pointed towards the door, "I'll use the door this time. Oh! and he's brought a guest?"

"Do we know who?" you and Steve asked in tandem, drawing a soft smile out of Wanda.

"The Secretary of State," Vision said before exiting out the hallway.

<____________>

Tony just finished his spiel on the kid who died, the young-ish boy who wanted to make a difference. Your heart ached for the kid and his mom, it did, but the whole world would be taken over at this point if the Avengers hadn't done anything.

"Tony the whole world would be gone if we didn't stop those threats, I'm not-" you didn't even get to finish your sentence before Tony cut you off.

"No, there's no decision making process here," his tone raised (you did not flinch) as he leaned against the counter, "we need to be put in check. By whatever means, I'm game."

There was a slight stunned silence, nobody quite expected Tony to sign the accords.

Steve sighed, "Tony if someone dies on your watch, you don't give up." his tone weighed heavy on his words.

"Who said we're giving up?"

"We are if we don't take responsibility."

"Guys listen-" you tried to get your voice in, but when Tony, Steve, and Rhodey started arguing you were cut off.

They weren't even being that loud, but you despised when people argued and quietly slipped out, just barely catching Wanda's "They'll come for me." You would protect her. Your feet carried you towards the balcony and you took a seat on the ground, tilting your head towards the sky.

These Accords were going to split the team apart, you knew it, but you would be dammed if you lost another group of friends. You wracked your brain for flaws in this plan. If the Avengers were needed but were told 'no', that could cause more disasters. But that wasn't enough. The team could all disagree to sign it, bluff and say they would no longer help and be heroes, but they might be called on their buff. There wasn't a lot of options to keep the team together.

Maybe, just maybe, Steve told you they had 1 month to decide - if the team could win back trust, then maybe they wouldn't have to sign the accords. It was a long shot, and you didn't even know how to pull it off, but it could work.

"What's on your mind?" Natasha asked as she stepped out onto the balcony and slid down the wall next to you, "You got your thinking face on."

You love how she thought everything was perfect between you two.

"Nothing," you croaked, "How're things going with Maria? I haven't seen her in a while."

Natasha winced, "We...aren't on the best of terms right now. Currently taking a break, she has an apartment in the city."

You never expected their marriage to last. Two hotheaded, stubborn women? That was a recipe for disaster. Natasha should have been able to tell, but she seemed to desperate for love. You made a sympathetic face, but offered no other comfort.

"What if..." you trailed off, hesitant, "What if you guys appeal to the UN? Ross gave you a month right? Appeal to the UN, get them to repeal the accords."

Natasha let out a long, heavy breath, "That would never work," she shook her head.

When she oppened her mouth to speak again, Wanda stepped out onto the balcony fidgeting with her cuffs.

"Is it alright if I steal Y/N for a moment? I need her help with something."

It looked like the last thing Natasha wanted to do was say 'yes', but regardless, "Yeah sure, go ahead."

You followed Wanda out into the hall and she led you towards her room silently, stopping just outside the door. The witch bounced on her toes and bit her lip.

Eventually she mumbled, "Do you want to watch a movie with me?"

"Huh?" you asked momentarily stunned.

She looked up, eyes a little wide, "It's just that Vis cancelled for some reason and I have all these snacks so I figured-"

"Wanda," you cut her off with a laugh, "I would love to."

For some reason, an ugly feeling twisted in your gut when she mentioned doing this Vision. You didn't want her to do this with Vision.

Wanda smiled and opened the door to her room. She led you towards her bed and snuggled up under the covers. Tenderly, you sat atop them, careful to keep a boundry. Popcorn and candy sat atop the bed, which the witch softly passed towards you before flicking the TV on.

It was some cheezy sitcom, a genere of movies you had never been particullarly interested, but Wanda would let out small giggles that warmed your heart. The young woman had been through so much and deserved some happiness in her life.

<__________>

Your nose bled as you cradled Wanda in your arms in the airport of Germany. Her strain from using magic and Rhodey's attack was too much.

In the end, when forced to choose sides, you tried to choose neither. Then Tony locked up Wanda, and caught Steve. Before you could even decide, Natasha approached you with her best puppy dog eyes that you could never say no to and asked you to join them.

"Y/N please," she had begged, scooching closer, your shoulders touched, "We need help."

Her hand landed on yours and you shook her off, "No, Nat. I don't- I'm not- this isn't right."

You knees knocked against hers accidentally, "Please," she asked once more.

"No, Natasha." you shook your head.

A steely mask came over her face as she nodded and exited your room. You didn't see her after that until the airport fight.

As the situation escalated, you tried to keep yourself neutral and spent time with Wanda and, unfortunately, Vision. The android didn't seem to like you very much. To be honest neither did you for one, simple, reason. Over the past month you realized you liked Wanda. No, not liked, you loved Wanda. You guys did movie nights together, she taught you how to cook, and simply hung out together despite the chaos growing.

Vision did not seemed pleased by this development. You found it stupid, he was an adriod for pete's sake. You would be damned if you let an advanced microwave steal Wanda.

(Maybe you had already had someone better than you steal the person you love once, and you didn't want that to happen again.)

When Clint stopped by, your first time seeing him since Christmas, he recruited you and you joined the fight.

Now, here you were with a few cuts and a bloody nose craddling Wanda in your arms gently.

"You ok?" you panted as she regained her breath.

"Yeah, you?"

"I'm good," you responded.

Tenderly you bent your head towards hers until your foreheads knocked together. She offered a soft smile, and even though she had looked better before; Wanda looked stunning. Her red centric outfit that made her amber eyes pop. You trailed you eyes further down her face, down the kissable slope of her nose, past her perfect cheekbones - all the way to her soft lips.

She leaned up, her hand coming up to cup the back of your head and pressed her lips softly to yours. You were enveloped by the taste of paprikash and could smell Wanda's honey shampoo, mingled with the smel of sweat and smoke. You pressed lips further into hers with a meek whine and could feel her smile.

Before it could deepen any further you were ripped away, the collar of you shirt pressing against your windpipe. Vision yanked your arms behind your back, leaving Wanda on the ground.

"Vision!" Wanda exclaimed, climbng to her feet, "What are you going?"

"You and Ms. Y/L/N are criminals now, I have a duty to arrest you," he explained in his stupid monotone robot voice.

Wanda raised her hands, ready to fight, before you shook your head.

"We're beat Wanda, let it go."

The witch lowered her hands, giving you a tight-lipped frown to convey her displeasure.

<___________>

The raft was perhaps the most unpleasant prision you had been too. Other than one in Germany, that one really sucked. You had no sense of time on the raft, they delivered food at random intervals - sometimes what felt like days apart, and they only seemed to give water at regular intervals so you wouldn't die.

When Tony first came, you wanted to punch Clint for telling him where Steve and Bucky went. When Tony first came you wanted to punch him. He turned you guys into Ross, and now you were sitting in this stupid water prision and Wanda was in a straight jacket like she was some physcopath. The young brunette hand't spoken in days, opting to stare at the wall - no doubt reminded of her HYDRA days.

Clint and Sam had taken to singing the most horrid songs, but trying to keep the mood up none the less. However, some time ago (you still weren't sure) an officer came and told them if they agreed to house arrest they could go home. Both gentleman agreed giving the rest pitying looks. Clint had tried to advocate for at least you and Wanda (sorry Sam) to come with him, be on house arrest, but he was denied.

After what had felt like at least a month (still time was an unknown variable), Steve, The Winter Soldier, and Natasha came to break you all out. It was perhaps the most messy prison break and you had a feeling the only reason it had any semblence of order was because of Natasha. If it was just Steve and Bucky they would brute force it.

Once they broke you out, all of you went to Wakanda and The Winter Soldier was sent into cyro-freeze. T'Challa, despite previously being against you, offered for the 'Rouges' (as you were dubbed on television) to stay in Wakanda. You all gratefully accepted the offer.

Currently you sat cuddled up with Wanda, her arm wrapped around you as you laid on her chest, watching a sitcom. She claimed it to be one of her childhood favorites, but she said that about every movie.

"Wanda," you peeked up at her as the credits rolled, "Is it wrong that I think I might still love Natasha?"

The woman pursed her lips, "..How much do you love her?"

"I-" you shrugged awkwardly, "I still feel like I love her- I had known when we were little, but I don't love her. I just think I'm-" you reached a hand up to your hair and tugged in frustration because you couldn't get the words out.

You would never break up with Wanda for Natasha. But some stupid little part of your heart still loved Natasha, and for a moment you almost shot your shot. During the early stages of the accords, when she mentioned taking a break with Maria, you almost tried it. Only stopping for two reasons: one, you would almost be helping her cheat on her wife, and two, you were already falling for Wanda. And yet still, there was that lingering warm and fuzzy feeling your chest when you thought of Natasha. That feeling that made you want to care for her and protect her.

Wanda looked down at you, seemingly reading your mind (she probably was), and gently pried your hand away from your hair, "I think..." she bit her lip before "that based on your thoughts, I don't mean to listen they are just loud, that you care for her, but you do not love her," the witch shrugged, "I trust you."

"I love you," you whispered, "I'm supposed to love you."

"Dekta," she took your face in her hands, "you're not supposed to love anyone." she brushed her thumbs over her cheeks.

"...I love you," you stated, your voice firm.

Wanda smiled widely, flashing her pearly white teeth, "I love you too."

You tucked your head into her chest as the next movie began, smiling in content.

<___________>

Life in Wakanda was awesome. You kept in shape, training with the Dora Milaje (even though you got your ass handed to you every time), and running laps around the area. The Winter Soldier came out of cyro not too long ago, and you became pretty good friends with him. Turns out his name was Bucky, and he was actually very sweet, choosing to go work on the farms and earn his keep.

Steve and you often jogged around the area "together". He mainly ran ahead and waited until you were done.

Sam became your new cooking budy, both of you trying out Wakandan recipies and occasionally starting a tiny kitchen fire.

Natasha was a bit of a rocky start once again. She approached you one morning, fiddling with her thumbs - something she never does.

"Look- Y/N," she began after clearing her throat, "Maria and I decided to get a divorce and I was wondering if you wanted to- if you wanted to go out with me?"

Your heart broke at her sad expression, but you already had a girlfriend, "I'm sorry, Nat, but I'm already with Wanda."

"Oh, I see," she visibly deflated, her shoulders dropping.

"But, we can still be friends," you offered a friendly smile with a shrug.

"I would love that."

After that encounter you two spent some awkward time together before building up your usual comfort and hanging around each other like you had been best friends your entire life.

The best part of Wakanda was Wanda.

You two spent most your free time together. Whether it was watching cheezy sitcoms, talking about dark pasts, cooking, making out, or working out together. It made you fall in love with her even more. By this point you had been dating for a year and a half, a year and a half since the accords.

Gosh, it had been a while.

"Y/N, my love," Wanda asked that afternoon, "how would feel about doing a picnic for dinner?"

Ignoring the oddity of the request you grinned, "I would love to."

Which led to your situation of sitting with your girlfriend on a blanket, watching the sun set over a river - a beautiful array of colors. Wanda looked beautiful in the light of the setting un, her brown-ish red hair falling past her shoulds with subtle waves. Her green eyes sparkling against her red-dress. Her lips, plump and kissable, and oh so soft.

You loved every piece of this woman. When you glanced away for a moment, and heard shuffling, you thought nothing of it. But when you turned back around....

Wanda was kneeling on the ground, the softest smile on her face, as she held a small black box in her hand. A glittering, but simple, ring sat snuggly in the box.

"Y/N, my love, my beautiful love, would you do the honor of marrying me?"

You blinked at her like an owl, drawing a soft laugh out of her, before tackling Wanda to ground.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes," you chanted.

An angelic laugh left Wanda's mouth as she wrapped her arms around you. You propped yourself up and stared into her eyes, which were shinning with adoration. Pressing a soft kiss to her lips as you savored the moment.

Gosh, you loved this woman. You love her laugh, the way she scrunched her nose when she laughed. You love her eyes, those shiny green with a slight hint of amber eyes. You love her cooking and how she's always willing to cook when your sad. You love the way she tells stories, mostly about her brother. You love the way she cares for you, holding you tenderly in bed and stroking your hair. You love how kissable her lips her, always soft and always tasting faintly of paprikash, and the way her hair smells of honey.

Most of all you love how thoughtful she was. The way she would leave little reminders around your shared room so you wouldn't forget things. When you were sad she always made your favorite comfort meal and listened to your stories of your dad. Both of you watched childish shows together, healing that inner child. There were so many things about her that you loved.

Gosh, you love this woman.

#marvel cinematic universe #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov #wanda maximoff #female reader

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