#with fate always nudging things along

[defmaybe]

Anatomy of a Farewell

12 Days of Christmas: Day 7, December 31st, 2024

fromis_9’s Park Jiwon x Male Reader

3.6k words

Christmas Masterlist

All good things must come to an end.

So is fromis_9 and your time with them, especially Jiwon.

“Cheers to us!” Saerom shouts, as she lifts her glass up for a toast. Everyone at the table joins in. It’s sad, really. It’s your last day to be officially together—the New Year’s Eve of 2024—and you can only hope that the wind of fate will somehow make your paths cross again.

So, what’s next?

You’ve been here for a few years already, from an intern to a boss. It has been a great experience for you, and now it’s coming to an end. Your future is uncertain again. Maybe Woollim? Maybe WakeOne? Maybe HYBE again? You aren���t so sure, and thinking about it only puts a burden on you.

You’re sitting on the outside of the bar, contemplating your life choices with a glass of beer in your hand. The December wind blows through the air, so—cold, dry, like every December before it.

“Hey.” A sound comes from your back. It’s Jiwon, a glass of beer in her hand. A faint smile is painted on her face.

“Hey,” you reply, taking a sip of your beer. It’s so quiet out here.

“You good?” she asks, sitting down beside you. Her right arm brushes slightly against yours.

“Well, you know, farewell sorrow and stuff,” you answer, chuckling softly at your predicament. You’ll have to find a new job after this, but for the last few years here, it has been worth it.

“Me too,” she says. It must be sad for her, suddenly saying goodbye to the women who’ve been with her for the last half decade or so.

You two let the silence linger in the air for a few more heartbeats, unsure of what to say next. You glance around you. There’s Jiwon. There’s a parking van, your company’s van, to be exact. There are trees. There's sadness building up inside you. There’s–

“I’ll miss them a lot, like, a fucking lot.”

You look at Jiwon again, your chin resting on your fist, trying to be her solace. It has been working so far.

“Yeah, it’s–hard,” you say. That’s the best sequence of words you could come up with, and it’s not bad, really. “You might still see them around, at least.”

Jiwon chuckles. “Yeah, I might.”

The concept of departure isn’t exactly new to you. You’ve had people leave you in the past before. It takes a few times to get used to it, really. But after that? It’s so much, much easier for you to accept your fate.

“So, what are you going to do next?” you ask, trying to continue the conversation. You want it to go on, at least you do. Despite how you’re so used to people’s departure, with Jiwon, it feels–different.

“Hmm.” She contemplates. You think she can easily have an acting career after this. You’ve seen her act before. She does it pretty well. Maybe she might star along Gyuri, one day.

“Modelling, maybe?” she says. That also works. Yeah, with a body like her, she definitely can do that.

“Seems sensible for you.”

She chuckles softly. “Thanks. What about you? Are you staying at HYBE?”

“Uh, I don’t know, really. I got the offer from a few places already, but I don’t know where I should go next,” you reply, shrugging. That WakeOne offer seems lucrative, could help your family.

“Where is it? Tell me!” she asks, smiling. She nudges you gently with her arm. But under this intoxication, you almost fall over. She’s stronger than she looks.

“Haiya!” you utter.

“Oh my god, sorry!” Jiwon holds you back in time. You’re not losing your balance yet.

“Well–” you pick yourself straight up again, brushing off the dust on your coat “���there’s Woollim, there’s WakeOne, and uh–there’s HYBE.”

Jiwon raises her eyebrows. “I can see someone like you working with Kep1er, though. HYBE sucks, like–look at us.”

You and Jiwon share a laugh in your predicaments. Yeah, HYBE sucks for you two—too few comebacks, too little promotions.

It has always been fun talking to Jiwon like this. You’d argue that Jiheon has been the closest to you, same age and all, but with Jiwon, it feels–different. It’s something you can’t quite describe.

The laughter then transitions into the silence lingers on for a few seconds more. The two of you don’t know what to say next. It happens sometimes. Still, with her, you feel safe, you feel happy.

“Maybe I should head back inside,” she finally says, smiling softly. “Wanna come?”

“Sure.”

—

The night rolls on. One beer, two beers, three beers. Every single one of you is getting more and more intoxicated, so are you and Jiwon. 

Your eyes keep making contact with each other. With each time, you swear that attraction starts to build up. You’ve felt nothing like this towards her. She has never been more than a co-worker to you.

Is there something going on?

You excuse yourself to the bathroom for the umpteenth time tonight, hoping to make the intoxication subside (it won’t subside). You open the bathroom door, wash your face, and set your hair. Then, as you look up from the sink, Jiwon appears in the mirror from behind you.

“Fuck, you’re scaring me, Jiwon,” you say, as Jiwon appears to be chuckling behind you.

“Sorry,” she replies. “Just wanna ask you something.”

“Oh, sure.”

Jiwon looks away from you, trying to form the right words. “So, I’d like to ask you–if I could stay at your place–tonight.”

Aren’t they supposed to have a driver? What is happening?

“Uh, I thought you guys had a driver?” you ask, puzzled, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Well, the problem is that–” she pauses, giving way to the silence as she moves closer to you, her breath is on your neck. Her right hand touches the small of your back softly, making you shudder “–except for Saerom, I can’t let anyone know I’m staying with you.”

“Oh.”

—

“Hmmph, you smell–hmm–so fucking good,” she says, peppering kisses on your neck. Her lips feel so soft. Her thighs are locking your body in your place. You can’t move, but you’re more than happy being under her restraints like this.

“It’s Yves Saint’s Libre.”

She retreats from peppering kisses on your neck with a puzzled expression. “Women’s perfume, really?”

You chuckle. “I mean–it smells good. You even said that!”

“Fair.” She shrugs dismissively before diving onto your neck again. Your body shudders in response from the pleasure and the low temperature of the room. Her hands wander around your body possessively, trying to claim you as hers (you’re already hers). She smells so good. It’s probably La Vie Est Belle, the same one your sister uses. There’s a bit of alcohol in her scent.

“Mmm, y–you also smell g–good, Jiwon,” you mutter, struggling to get the words out under this immense pleasure.

“Mmph, thanks! It’s–”

“La Vie Est Belle. Yeah, my sister uses it.”

Jiwon lets out a chuckle, clearly satisfied with your knowledge. She then pushes you onto the bed, making you land with a soft thud. It’s game time for her.

“Would you mind turning on the heater?” she asks, slightly shivering, as she dives onto your neck to plant the kisses.

“S–Sure.”

You reach for the remote on your nightstand, turning on the heater. Her lips remain busy, placing kisses on your neck. She starts to strip herself of the restrictive clothes, embracing the warmth from your heater. She unbuttons her coat (it’s a little too big for her, if you’d have to add), revealing the red blouse under. Her cleavage is showing off nicely by the collar. God, she looks so great.

“Can I?” you ask her for permission to touch her chest. She looks so damn tempting, and you just couldn’t resist it.

“Go ahead,” she allows, mouth still busy on your neck somehow.

You reach out to touch her small, firm breasts that are hanging in front of you. You figure that they’re soft to the touch. They just fit in your hand. She’s perfect, and you decide to give her breasts a squeeze.

“Hmm, just like that,” she whimpers, pulling back from your neck to allow you easier access to her confined tits. Her body arches back slightly. Her blouse lifts a little to show the small of her toned tummy. 

You give her breasts the treatment they deserve—grab, squeeze, knead. You’re making her moan in pure pleasure. She loves this.

“Mmm, fuckkk~” she groans. Her body vibrates under your touch. You’re revelling in the way she’s becoming undone like this. You’re revelling in the way her breasts feel in your hands. She’s so pliant, so yours.

“Baby,” Jiwon says, voice all airy from the bliss.

“Yes?” Your hands are still kneading her breasts softly

“I want–no–I need you inside me. Now.”

You giggle, quickly taking off your coat to make it equal. “No foreplay?”

“Me kissing your neck and you grabbing my tits are enough foreplay, baby,” she answers. Her voice is so light, so airy, so diluted. “I’m already fucking wet.”

You look into her eyes. They’re gleaming with unbridled desire. She wants this. She needs this. She needs you.

“Oh, s–sure,” you answer awkwardly before hastily unbuckling your belt. Your pants come off easily, and then there’s only your tight boxers left.

“Would you mind?” you ask, wanting her to be your guest in taking the last barrier off.

“Sure, why not?” she scoffs, before she grabs the edge of your underwear, teasing you, making you want more. She runs her thumbs along your waist, making you groan in the looming disappointment.

“God, thought you want me inside you,” you moan. She’s such a fucking cocktease.

“Just wanna hear you moan first” she replies, snaking her right hand under the piece of cloth. She brushes against your throbbing cock softly, making you moan to her wish.

“G–Goddd~” Your eyes flutter in ecstasy. Pleasure is coursing through you. It’s electric.

Jiwon giggles, before finally pulling your boxers down to your ankles, freeing your cock from its confinement. Your legs shiver from the still-cold air of the room. It hasn’t gotten much warmer yet.

“Already hard?” she playfully asks, softly flicking your shaft.

“Just for you.”

Jiwon lets out another laugh, clearly satisfied with your witty response. “Good answer.”

A smile escapes your lips, as Jiwon is still watching your cock with wonder. She really loves it, doesn’t she?

“So–” you reach out for her chin, tilting her face up slightly to meet your eyes. She looks nothing short of ethereal tonight under your dim room light. What a woman “–what are you going to do with me?”

Jiwon smiles. “Wait a second, dumbass. Can’t I just admire him for a bit?” Her eyes go back to watching your cock intently.

“Not after you promised me a ride, Jiwon,” you reply. You have needs too, and it’s currently not being sated.

“I’m not good with promise,” she says, giggling, and you can’t help but smile at her response. She then gets up into a sitting position again, tying her hair into a bun. Holy fuck, she looks so hot with that hair. 

“Please,” you utter. You really want this. You really want her.

“Please what, baby?” she playfully asks, drawing a line on your shirt. You’re quivering under her touch.

“J–Just fuck me already, Jiwon,” you answer shakenly. You’re in dire need of her pussy now.

Jiwon smiles before unbuttoning her jeans and sliding it down, revealing her drenched panties underneath. She looks so tantalizing.

“Fuck, this is cold,” she says, crossing her arms.

“Want me to be on top?”

“But you’ll get cold!” she says, concerned about your wellbeing. What a kind woman.

“I have to be a good host.”

“And I have to be a good guest!” she replies sternly. She’s so adamant about this, isn’t she?

“Get down here then, Jiwon,” you say, gesturing to her to lie on your bed. She reluctantly complies, hesitating, still worrying if you’d feel cold.

But you already have other plans.

You carefully have her lying down on your bed next to you, on her side. You take off her wet panties, slowly, rewarding you with a light, small moan and the view of her wet pussy. You then lift her leg to rest on your thighs. It’s for easy access to her cunt.

“You really are a good host,” she says, a smile forms on her gorgeous face.

“Thanks.”

You line up your needy cock with her puffy cunt, ready to fuck her properly. You look into her eyes, and there’s nothing but desire. No anxiety. No apprehension. No second thoughts. She’s ready.

“Fuck me.”

With that, you thrust your hips into her wanton pussy. Her body shrieks in pleasure and a slight tinge of pain. Your cock is stretching her out wide. She feels great, so tight, so right. Her inner walls are grazing your cock, making you moan in unbridled joy.

“Goddd~” you moan. You’re feeling so ecstatic with her pussy wrapping around you. Then, there’s the clapping of your thighs. There’s her airy moans. There’s her gleeful expression. You love this. You love the way you make her moan. You love the way you’re feeling right now.

“You feel so good, baby. So big, so thick,” Jiwon groans, eyes closed with the boiling pleasure. Her hands hug around you ever so tightly, not wanting to lose you into the cold of the night. 

“Ha–th–thanks, Jiwon,” you reply, stuttering. You just cannot handle the feeling that’s coursing through you right now.

Jiwon’s expression is nothing short of pure bliss—the closed eyes, the smile, the slightly arched eyebrows. She’s enjoying this. She’s enjoying your cock inside her.

You continue to slowly slide in and out of her needy pussy, enamored in the feeling of her walls hugging around your cock. Electricity shoots through your body. It feels great. She feels great—the warmth, the smell, the sound. She’s perfect.

You finally catch the tempo of fucking her folds, so you start to quicken your pace by a little. Her moans become shorter and shorter. She’s losing herself around your cock.

Jiwon bites her lip, finally opens her eyes. She looks up at you with pure lust in her pupils, and you swear that this is the most beautiful she has ever looked—in your tight embrace, on your bed, biting her own soft lip.

“Mmm, fucking love this cock,” she utters without any shame, leaning in to plant a soft peck on your forehead. Warmth emanates from the spot. It feels good.

“Love your pussy too, baby,” you say, making her laugh in your embrace. 

She then leans in slightly closer, staring into your eyes. Is she going to–

“I–I–” Jiwon stutters. Her train of thoughts are derailed under the pleasure you’re giving her. You feel too good.

“What is it?”

“Can I kiss you?”

You let the question hang in the air for a few seconds, drawing the tension, dragging the answer, making her restless.

“I’m already inside you, so–make that what you will,” you reply to her with a soft chuckle. Your hips are rocking into her pussy gently, trying not to hurt her.

Jiwon laughs. “No, I mean–fucking just doesn’t have enough emotions as kissing!”

“Kissing is just tongue though,” you deflect, protecting your point. She does have a point, at least, just not as strong as yours.

“Look at doggy,” she brings up her point. “You don’t have to look at each other, making it less intimate, a lot less.”

That makes sense. She just won her debate against you.

“Well, it seems that you’ve won, Miss Park.” You giggle, nibbling her chin softly. “Guess you can kiss me on the lips.”

Jiwon’s face lights up with a smile, before latching her lips on yours. The kiss is fervent. The kiss is passionate. She invades your mouth aggressively, a contradiction to the slow love making below your belts. Her grip on your face is tight. She doesn’t want to let you go.

Her lips taste like beer. It still lingers inside her mouth as you pierce her mouth with your tongue. You suppose yours probably taste the same. The kiss still feels electric, indeed. Jiwon lets out soft moans and whimpers into the kiss. God, what a feeling.

Her right hand then travels below your belt, smacking your plump ass. Your body jolts in response to the violent hit. She lets out a giggle.

Finally, she pulls back from the kiss. Your hips are still rocking down below, pounding her cunt with softness. Her face is all flushed, so enamored in the kiss.

“That felt great,” she says, a smile painting on her ethereal face.

“Me too, baby,”

Jiwon chuckles at the pet name, before starting to moan again. Her mouth is agape. Her eyes are barely open.

“Y–You’re so big, baby,” she utters.

“I–I’d argue that it’s p–pretty average, Jiwon.”

She shoots you a warm smile. “Don’t downplay yourself! Be proud of your size, alright?” Jiwon encourages you, and you can’t help but laugh at her words.

“O–Okay, Jiwon.”

You up your tempo into another ante. It has become a hammering session now. The sounds of smacking flesh echoes through your room. Sweat starts to form on both of your foreheads. Jiwon’s eyes are fluttering. She’s enjoying this.

“F–Fuckkk~” Jiwon moans, airy, diluted. Your hands wander down to her caged pert breasts, feeling them bounce in your hand. Jiwon lets out stuttered whimpers at your touch. She still feels so soft, so perfect in your hands.

“S–So good, baby,” she whimpers. She’s loving this.

“Glad I can be of help, babe,” you reply, eliciting a shaken laugh out of her lips.

The feeling around your cock is nothing short of ecstatic. Your moans are full of unpacked joy. Your cock fits into her pussy so perfectly. Her tight walls are trying to coax that white, viscous nectar out of your slit.

Her grips on your face grow tighter. Her moans become more frantic. Her breathing becomes ragged. Her muscles tense. She’s going to cum.

“Nghhh~ gonna cum, baby,” Jiwon moans, as you pound her pussy with reckless abandon.

You realized that your grips on her face also become tighter and tighter as seconds go by. Your motion becomes more and more erratic down there. You’re chasing your own orgasm. You’re going to cum.

“M–Me too, babe,” you utter, so lost in the boiling pleasure.

Jiwon then pulls you into another fiery kiss. Her lips still taste like beer, but you swear that it’s like an aphrodisiac to you. Her tongue finds its way into your mouth dextrously, sweeping the insides of your mouth. Her right hand gives your ass another slap, making your whole body shudder in response. Your hands wander towards her small, firm chest, giving them a light squeeze. She moans as a reply to your touch.

Her breathing becomes faster and faster. You figure that she’s going to cum, and so are you. The all-too-familiar feeling is building up inside your loins. You’re going to cum inside her.

“G–Gonna cum,” Jiwon utters into the kiss. Her tongue fights yours for dominance.

“Can I–Can I cum inside you?” you ask, slightly hoping for a yes.

“I–I’m on the p–pill, go ahead, baby,” she answers, and that’s a go for you to ram into her cunt with reckless abandon. The sound of your fleshes smacking rings through the room. The room reeks of sex in this December air.

You pull back from the sensual kiss to watch her flushed face. She’s moaning. Her eyes are barely opening, fluttering in ecstasy. She loves this. She loves having your cock pounding her pussy like this.

“Th–Thanks for e–everything,” you say. Your orgasm draws near.

“M–Me too, baby.”

She’s the first to let go. Gushes of torrent are discharged out of her pussy onto you, dripping onto your bed. Her walls contract around your cock. She cries out in pure bliss. Good thing that these walls are thick.

You follow suit. Your cock shoots spurts of cum into her wanton cavern, painting her insides white. Your hips buck harshly into her. You take a deep breath as you cum. Fuck, what a feeling.

Jiwon pulls you into another kiss, invading your mouth with adeptness. Her right hand presses onto your ass, wanting you to bury your cock inside her. She moans and moans into the kiss. The sound of the wet smooches and your moans ring inside your ears.

Inevitably, your orgasms die down. Violent shots of cum turn into drizzles out of your slit. Your sheets are all wet from her nectar. Both of you are panting—tired.

The two of you lie down on the bed on your sides—exhausted, spent, satisfied. Your bodies are all flushed with red. You’re watching her glowing in the post-debauchery bliss. She looks so good. You can’t let this go. You just can’t.

“Wanna do this again?” It’s one of the best sex you’ve ever had, and you can’t just let it slip past your hands so easily.

“Well–” she tucks her hair behind her ear, looking at you as she chuckles “–definitely, maybe.”

“What do you mean, ‘Definitely, maybe’?”

Jiwon laughs, covering her mouth. “Just a movie reference, don’t worry,” she says, patting your shoulder. She looks so gorgeous like this.

“We’re definitely fucking again, no maybes.”

—

[luveline]

bombshell!reader getting caught sleeping over at spencer's before making their established relationship public & the team still thinks spencer is uncomfortable with r's approaches. 🤭

Spencer bought you pyjamas. You're sick with secret pleasure at the fact, staring at yourself in every passing window and reflective surface. They're simple skinny knitted sweatpants and a matching hoodie, and it's not necessarily something you'd buy for yourself, but why would you ever complain? Spencer got you new clothes as a gift with no occasion or motive; you'd marry him now if you thought he'd say yes. 

Too bad he's still sleeping. 

You turn away from his kitchen window back to your cooking, an oiled frying pan sizzling hot on the stove, eggs browning at the edges as Spencer likes. Two twin mugs of hot coffee steam on the counter next to two plates of crispy bacon and toasted english muffins, deconstructed breakfast sandwiches. You're ninety percent sure he likes breakfast sandwiches. 

It's odd knowing enough about Spencer to fancy yourself in love with him, but being in a relationship that's so new that there are a thousand gaps. You know how he likes his eggs but not his bacon. Does he like melted cheese? Does he drink orange juice this early?

You'll have to ask him. If he's brave enough to ask you to stay the night, you can ask him about breakfast. 

It's getting way too hot in the kitchen. The opened window isn't cutting it. You hook your elbow into the hem of your hoodie and pull it over your head before folding them to set neatly aside. You feel cooler in your vest, if a little exposed. Good thing it's just you and Spence—

A knock rattles the door. "Reid, you home?" 

Well, I brought that on myself, you think with a laugh. You take the eggs off of the heat and wipe your oily fingers clean on a dish towel as you meander to the door. It's too early for running. 

"Hello, Derek," you say, opening the door with a put upon casualness. He blinks at you. He's wearing gym clothes, a sleeveless t-shirt and tight sweatpants. You wolf whistle before he can say hello himself. "Looking good. Early run?" 

"You're kidding," he says. 

"Am I ever? You look great! Did you want to come in– woah!" 

Deft-fingered hands pull you out of the doorway and firmly behind it. Spencer steps into your place, closing the door to a slit. "Hi, Morgan." 

"Reid. You're both kidding." 

"I don't know what you mean." Spencer rakes a hand through his sleep mussed hair. You try to ignore how much you enjoyed him moving you around. 

"Reid, I just saw her!" Morgan laughs more happily than incredulously. You can't see him but you can picture his smile and his slightly slouched posture, his arms crossed over his chest. "Since when do you guys bunk up? You're a jerk, you know that? I'm always telling her to stop bothering you, but now I'm thinking you like being bothered." 

"I never asked you to do that," Spencer says weakly. 

You nudge Spencer aside gently, popping your head back into Morgan's view. "My AC broke, my apartment's a hot hell. Reid let me come over." 

"Oh yeah?" Morgan asks, rolling his eyes. "That why he tried to hide you? What's so secret about broken AC?" 

"He's a genius, he's not perfect. I'm sure he was just trying to protect my decency. I'm not dressed for company." You put a more than friendly hand on Spencer's back, the dip of it like a tempting line under his thin sleep shirt. You want more than anything to dig under his shirt and feel along the curve of it. You'd pictured it this morning, eating eggs and drinking coffee under his arm, your fingertips tracing the short wall of stretch marks he has just above his coccyx.  

Spencer rolls with your lie as well as he's able to, which, having been caught off guard, is not very well at all. "Right. She's not wearing a bra." 

You snort. Morgan laughs and almost turns around to walk away. 

"Did you want breakfast?" Spencer asks weakly. He sounds resigned to his fate. Skewed, he uses the hand furthest away from you to reach behind his back and squeeze your hand in a swift apology. 

"I'll pass, man." Morgan pulls his cap down a touch. "Sounds like you're having breakfast fit for two." 

[ceesimz]

Best of Both Worlds

Yes, the title is a Hannah Montana song, it fits perfectly. Also, for the sake of fiction, Leah did in fact play at Wembley, thank you!

Possibly the most long-awaited day of Leah's life; her national team return. It was one thing to play for The Arsenal again, but to represent her country whilst wearing the captain's armband at Wembley was an experience that simply couldn't be matched. And that's why it meant everything and more to her that you were in the stands with her family and her name on your back.

It wasn't the most aesthetically pleasing match ever, a 1-1 draw against Sweden, but Leah was back in her rightful place under her rightful role, and that was a win in itself. With each step on the pitch, your heart swelled with pride, knowing the mountain she'd climbed with her injury and how hard it had been mentally with each bump in the road, especially when she had to drop out of the last camp.

But here you were, seated in the same area of the stands her family had been when she had won the Euros, watching on in awe at how seamlessly she slipped back into the team. You had missed that fateful day back in 2022, having only met Leah five months after it at a New Year's Eve party, but with the affection Leah described that day with, you may as well have lived it for yourself. Now, having experienced your first game at Wembley since you hadn't gone to that game last year, you were beaming as you watched your girl command her national team around again.

Sure, you'd been to many a game of her's before, but there was something different about this one. There were obvious reasons of course, her injury and whatnot, but seeing her lead her team out to a stadium filled with the most people you'd ever seen her play in front of, a feeling settled in your chest that was unlike anything before. And when she was back in your arms at the end of the game, you would show her exactly how much you treasured her.

So, as she made her way around the stadium post-game, taking the time to applaud all the fans that had come along to watch and signing things for some, there was a smile of admiration on your face that her cousin beside you noticed. You blushed heavily at the teasing nudge she gave you with a smirk on her face.

"I suggest you wipe that cheesy, love-sick smile off your face before she comes over and bullies you for it." The woman next to you said, the pair of you laughing as you rolled your eyes, both all too familiar with her antics.

But the absence of said smile only lasted for about a minute, because then Leah was making her way over to the area of stands where you and her family was, and she had a down-turned smile on her face, the one she always did whilst trying to suppress her actual one. You were sat on the second row behind Leah's immediate family, so you stood back and waited for her to greet them all, also doing so as to not attract much fan attention. Leah made that hard though, because when her Mum pulled her into a bear hug, she indulged herself fully in it for about five seconds before her eyes flitted up to you and the corners of her mouth finally quirked up.

She jokingly pushed her Mum to the side so that she could reach out for you, and leaned up to hug you tightly. However, you pulled away after a few moments, and she made her disapproval very clear.

"What you doing that for?" She quizzed grumpily, looking utterly unimpressed up at you as some of her family members chuckled at her.

"The fans, Leah. We're at Wembley, think of all the videos." You whispered close to her ear, not quite intelligible for the others to hear.

"Who gives a toss, babe, I've hugged all my family here and you're no different." She responded, and she pulled you back in before you could complain. You wouldn't have complained anyway, because really who were you to deny your girlfriend's hug, your favourite in the world.

"Don't throw a strop later if there's about a million different angles of this." You teased, pinching her side where one of your hands rested around her.

"Doesn't matter, it's still you I get to go home with." She murmured before quickly pecking the spot under your ear and pulling back with one last squeeze. When she leaned back, she saw the light blush to your cheeks and smirked. "A year later and I've still got it."

You shoved her away lightly so that she could chat with the rest of her family before going off to do her post-match routine. Seeing her with her family, who she was so tight-knit with, was always a joy to see and you'd never get tired of seeing it. And as she jogged away back to the tunnel, her Mum turned to you and embraced you too.

"Thanks for coming, darling, it means a lot to her and to us too." She told you, rubbing a hand up and down your back. Praise and gratitude from her never got old either.

"Of course, I wouldn't have missed it for the world." You said back to her, to which she smiled and kissed your cheek.

You and the rest of the group made your way around to the family area inside the stadium to wait for her, making light conversation with them all to pass the time whilst Leah carried out media duties. It was fun and easy spending time with her family, because as a result of your girlfriend's relationship with them, you had grown almost as close with them too. Ever present at family dinners, birthdays, and events like christenings and weddings etc, now it was second nature for you to follow Leah to them. Within only a few months of being with Leah, every invite had your name on it too.

In the middle of your conversation with her cousins, talking excitedly about plans for the summer vacation later that year, you were interrupted as Leah finally appeared in her tracksuit with short wet blonde hair, a soft smile on her face. She spent a bit of time talking some more with her family, before bidding them farewell and wandering over to you.

"Home time?" You wondered, reaching a hand out to brush some of her hair back behind her shoulder.

You had, rather bravely, drove to the stadium today after Leah somehow secured you a reserved parking space, with the plan of driving yourself and Leah home your flat for the night before she travelled back up north to St. George's Park with the team tomorrow.

"God, yes." She sighed, and you smiled up at her.

"Let's go then." You took the hand she offered after pulling up her hood and let her lead the way out of the stadium.

Arriving at your car, with a few curious stares from fans to see if the hooded figure beside you was who they thought it was, you helped her lift her things into the boot of your car before the pair of you clambered in.

For the time it took to drive home, you caught up with her as it had been a few days since you had seen each other whilst she had been at camp. You, ever the safe driver, weren't one to hold your girlfriend's hands whilst on the road, always with two hands on the wheel at all times. Leah teased you of course, her and her English humour never falling to banter you everytime she could, but nevertheless when she was feeling a little clingy her hand would rest on your thigh as you drove, or it would massage and stroke the back of your neck as her arm leaned on your seat's headrest.

Today was a case of her resting a hand mindlessly on your thigh, something you would smile at constantly and glance down at the sight every chance you could get. She didn't notice though, busy talking and too tired to realise. Adjusting back to playing 90 minutes was something she was still in the middle of, not that she couldn't handle them because she obviously can, it's just the tiredness afterwards was something she hadn't experienced in a while of playing professionally.

That meant you weren't exactly surprised when she flopped down immediately on your sofa when you got home, not even bothering to drop her bags off in your room.

"Want some food, love?" You offered, pushing her bags to the side of the hallway so that they weren't a tripping hazard before leaning against the doorway of your lounge.

"You don't have to cook, we can just order a Nando's or something." Leah yawned, rubbing her eyes.

"Well, I thought ahead." You smiled at her, giggling at the tired and confused expression she silently responds with. "I meal-planned for you. I can heat up a plate of that Carribbean chicken and rice and veg if you want."

She gazed at you for a few moments before her head dropped back against the pillows with a groan.

"If I had a ring right now, I'd ask to marry you."

With a laugh, you took that as a yes and headed to the kitchen to do exactly as you said. As you were gone, the blonde put Netflix on the TV and chose the sitcom you had been watching together before pausing the episode to wait for you. She sat up with a groan and slumped back heavily, going onto her phone to reply to some friends and family.

Not so long later, you walked back in with Leah's food, handing it to her before sitting down beside her. Plate and fork in hand, she twisted her body to lean her back against your shoulder and happily tucked into her meal as you pressed play on the TV.

"Thanks for this, babe, I'm really grateful." She muttered as she ate, to which you smiled and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"It's no problem, Le. I made a plate for myself too but I had a hot dog at half-time so I'm not hungry." You revealed, giggling as Leah chuckled.

"I know it's just a plate of food but... I don't know, means a lot to me that you thought about this." With a light blush, you shrugged nonchalantly and kissed the side of her head.

"I would say I know you'd do the same for me, but everybody knows you can't cook." You jested, grinning when she grumbled under her breath.

"I was only being nice, but alright." She huffed, but you only held her tighter against you.

"I'm kidding. I just love you, s'all. Wanna take care of you, especially after the last year and especially because I know you're a bit of a bottomless pit after a game." You say, and she hums in agreement. "If I'd have known my chicken was so good, it inspired thoughts of marriage, I'd have made it more often."

"I could never say no to that."

You both fell silent at that, more than content to enjoy each other's company with the show on in the background. Spending time with you after a game, just relaxing together, was fastly becoming Leah's favourite tradition. Going to dinners with friends or partying were great, but not much could beat this. Great food with even better company, in the arms of her girlfriend, Leah was finally at peace with the silence she had to greet after a game that was anything but.

That was something not many people would guess was a struggle in women's football. Going from playing in tiny stadiums to bigger venues but hardly any fans, to then playing in sold-out game after sold-out game for both club and country, that was her dream. What she wasn't expecting was the mental challenge that came with it. Spending well over 90 minutes in a booming stadium with fans that never ceased their chants was astounding to her, but the silence that met her when she would go home to a quiet and empty apartment was difficult.

She had worked on dealing with it better since the Euros where it had really picked up, but there was one thing that made it so much easier every time without fail. And that was you.

"You know I do plan to marry you, right?" Leah piped up out of nowhere sometime later, her plate long discarded to the coffee table as your positions on the couch remained the same. At her out-of-the-blue question that took your breath away a little, you cleared your throat and nodded though she couldn't see you.

"Yeah."

"Because I do want to marry you one day. I've known that from early on, I actually know the exact moment I thought that."

"Do tell, my love." You smiled, never one to pass up on a chance to hear just how and when Leah had fallen for you.

"The second time we saw each other after the New Year's party, when you started teasing me for not kissing you again after that night."

Much to Alex's dismay, the night of that party yourself and Leah had spent pretty much all of it talking about everything and nothing, compelled by a desire to get to know each other. That was until the blonde's intake of Dutch courage lived up to its name as she kissed you a little more than what could be described as friendly once the clock struck midnight. And when the night ended, no matter how much you didn't want to leave, you both shared a taxi to your respective apartments and exchanged details. It wasn't long before you saw her again though, in fact you saw her twice in the two weeks that followed, but the defender had been a little too embarrassed at her eager act a few weeks prior to kiss you again. But when you teased her one too many times about it, on the third 'date', she huffed before firmly yet delicately gripping your face and finally kissing you again.

"I spoke to Wally after our second date and she called me crazy for knowing I'd marry you when I didn't even have the balls to kiss you again." You laughed loudly at that, a notion Leah soon joined in with as she knew her past-self had acted in a ridiculous and shy way. "But that's the truth, babe. I knew I had to have you, and what better way to show that than snogging the life out of you on a random bench in London."

"Ew, Leah! Why describe it like that? I thought it was such a sweet moment, but you've just described it like we were two horny teenagers." She grimaced at the point you made, regretting it already.

"My bad. It was sweet. If not a bit... desperate." She snickered, grinning when you swatted her shoulder. "So, would you marry me then?"

"Wow. If this conversation couldn't get any less romantic, I think you've just put the nail in the coffin." Leah scoffed and sat up, fixing you with a disapproving look.

"That wasn't my actual proposal, you knob. I just wanna know if you'd say yes when I did eventually ask. Properly, that is." The defender asked with a shy smile, and you couldn't help but giggle at her face, doing so more when she frowned in confusion.

"Yes, I would accept your proposal. As long as it's with a nice ring and a better speech." You answered to put her out of her misery. She lets out a relieved sigh but smiling again.

"Noted."

With that, she stood up, now your turn to be confused. Squealing as she lifted you up bridal style, you laughed when she lay you down on your back length-ways across the sofa. Then, she kneeled against the cushions under your knees and carefully laid on top of you, her head resting against your stomach. Her hands came up to slide under your back and she sighed contently.

"Comfy?" You asked with a smile, your own hands settling on the back of her head.

"So comfy." She hummed, eyes closed as she faced away from the TV.

"If you're gonna fall asleep, Le, we may as well go to bed."

"No." She grunted. "I won't fall asleep. I just want to lay here for a bit."

"Alright." You conceded, your attention fully lost from the TV and instead on the girl draped over you.

You admired the slight view of her face available to you, your hands combing delicately through her almost dried hair as the only sounds shared between you were the calm and quiet breaths you both let out. A few minutes passed by and you thought she had gone to sleep, but she proved you wrong.

"This is my dream, you know."

"What is?" You asked her, moving one of your hands to rest on the side of your face and stroking her skin there with your thumb.

"Going home from a game to someone I love. Who I can fully switch off with." The small explanation had you beaming, beyond happy to hear how special you were to her.

"Well, I'm glad I can help, my love." You replied, a sheepishly proud smile on your face.

"I used to find it hard, y'know... our football blew up in popularity during the Euros, and I struggled with it more than I expected." You hummed curiously, not wanting to disrupt her train of thought but letting her know you wanted her to continue. "Going from being surrounded by up to ninety thousand people, singing and chanting and cheering non-stop, to just... nothing when I got home. Just a cold, empty, silent apartment. The contrast of it troubled me a lot. I worked through it with a psychologist and coped with it better, but it was never perfect."

She paused, adjusting her position so that her hands came to rest under her chin as she looked up at you, that same down-turned smile from earlier returning. Your hands fell to clasp behind her neck, waiting for her to elaborate.

"Then you came around, and now that anxiety doesn't even phase me anymore."

Now, if that wasn't the most heart-warming thing your girlfriend had said so far, you weren't sure what was.

"That makes me so happy, Leah." You whispered, cupping her cheeks with your hands and smiling softly at her.

"One of my favourite things about our relationship is how easy it is for me to switch from Leah Williamson the footballer, to just Leah when I'm around you. Makes coming home after a game much easier."

Shaking your head, you took her hands and urged her to move further up your body so that her head rested against your chest. Wrapping your arms around her, you squeezed her tightly, desperate to convey your love to her in a way words couldn't explain.

"I'll happily welcome 'Just Leah' home all the time."

"Now you're ruining the moment."

[steephanie07]

The Road to Us - CL 16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary : The Road to us follows YN and Charles Leclerc as their unexpected connection grows into a deep, unwavering love. Through their journey, they face the challenges of life and racing, building a future together filled with dreams, laughter, and unbreakable promises.

Word count: 2,2 k

The night she met Charles had been unplanned, a spontaneous outing arranged by her friends Carmen and Kika. They had always tried to pull her into the world of Formula 1, and tonight was no exception. They each had a reason to be there—Carmen was dating George Russell, and Kika was with Pierre Gasly. Both women had taken YN under their wing, determined to get her out of her shell and have her join the F1 circles, hoping she’d meet someone who could make her heart race.

The club was buzzing that night, electric with the post-race excitement of drivers and team members celebrating a job well done. YN felt a little out of place, standing in a room full of world-class athletes and their glamorous friends. But she stayed close to Carmen and Kika, the three of them laughing together and sharing knowing glances as they navigated the bustling crowd.

Then, as they made their way toward the drivers’ table, she noticed Charles. He sat at the far end, relaxed but visibly worn from the day’s race, his eyes bright with an intense energy she found intriguing. When their eyes met, something unspoken passed between them, a silent question neither was prepared to answer just yet. He nodded at her, a friendly, slightly shy smile playing on his lips. YN felt her pulse quicken, caught off-guard his gaze lingered just a moment longer than it should have.

They exchanged small talk that night, but it felt like more than polite conversation. His questions were thoughtful, his responses genuine, and for a moment, it was as if they were the only two people in the room. YN couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something special about this man, something that tugged at her heart even though she barely knew him. When she left that night, she found herself glancing back over her shoulder, catching him watching her as she slipped out into the night.

Days later, their paths crossed again at a quiet gathering organized by mutual friends. As they reached for the same deck of cards during a game, their fingers brushed—a brief, unexpected touch that sent a jolt through her. It was a simple moment, one that might have gone unnoticed with anyone else. But with Charles, it felt significant. He looked at her, his eyes filled with surprise and curiosity, and she felt the world around them blur. It was just a touch, but it left her wondering about him, wondering if he’d felt that same spark.

Sensing the connection between them, Pierre, along with Carmen and Kika, decided to give fate a little nudge. They arranged a casual dinner, inviting both YN and Charles, but conveniently didn’t show up themselves. When she arrived, YN was caught off guard to see that she and Charles were the only ones there. For a moment, they both laughed, realizing they’d been set up, but the evening quickly shifted from awkward to unforgettable.

They talked for hours, moving from lighthearted jokes to sharing dreams and fears they usually kept hidden. They discussed everything from the pressures of fame to their childhood dreams, discovering a mutual love for simple things like stargazing and quiet nights at home. By the time they parted, she felt as if she’d known him forever. The walls they’d both kept up had softened, and there was a new understanding between them—a silent acknowledgment that something real was beginning to blossom.

The months that followed were filled with more of these precious moments. One evening, as they sat beneath a sky full of stars, Charles took her hand. “YN, do you think… this could be it? That we might be meant for each other?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper, as if he were afraid to break the magic of the moment. Her heart raced, and she smiled, nodding as she leaned into his embrace. In that quiet, intimate moment, they became something more, officially stepping into a love story that would change their lives forever.

They took their first trip together not long after. In Paris, they walked along the Seine, hand in hand, exploring hidden cafes and wandering through art galleries as if they were the only two people in the world. Away from the noise and pressures of their usual lives, they found solace in each other. Charles fell in love with the way her face lit up with each new discovery, and YN was captivated by his ability to find joy in the smallest things. It was during this trip that Charles began to picture a future with her, a life built on these small, shared moments.

Over time, they spoke more seriously about the future. One evening, in the warmth of her apartment, they imagined what a life together would look like. Charles playfully brought up the idea of adopting a dog, describing a scruffy little companion that would join them on adventures. YN laughed, picturing their cozy home filled with laughter and love. Charles mentioned wanting a house of their own, a place they could return to after the highs and lows of life on the road. It was a lighthearted conversation, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that told her he meant every word.

There were simple, tender gestures that spoke volumes about their love. One night, as they sat together on the couch, Charles reached over and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering just a moment too long. It was in these small acts of affection that YN realized just how deeply he cared for her, how much she had come to mean to him.

Then came the moment they both knew they were in love. They had been watching the sunset, lost in each other’s presence, when Charles, with a voice full of emotion, whispered, “Je t’aime, YN.” She felt her heart swell, her own voice trembling as she whispered it back. That simple phrase changed everything, solidifying a commitment they had both felt but hadn’t fully expressed until that moment.

Meeting each other’s families was a monumental step. Charles introduced her to his mother, who embraced YN with a warmth that felt like coming home. His brothers, Lorenzo and Arthur, welcomed her with open arms, teasing Charles but treating her with respect and kindness. YN felt a deep sense of belonging, as if she was finally stepping into a family that she could call her own. In return, she introduced Charles to her family, and he won them over with his sincerity and charm, making them laugh and easing any nervousness with his effortless grace.

As time passed, they found the perfect house, nestled away from the bustling city, with a sprawling garden and cozy nooks. They adopted the scrappy little dog Charles had always dreamed of, and together they began to build a life, filling each room with laughter, love, and memories. It was a home that reflected everything they had ever wanted—a safe haven from the world where they could be themselves, unguarded and at peace.

Through the years, they faced challenges together. Charles endured difficult moments in his racing career, enduring setbacks and disappointments. YN was there for him, her unwavering support grounding him when he felt lost. She reminded him that he was more than his achievements, that his worth went beyond the racetrack. In his moments of doubt, her love became his anchor, the steady force that helped him find his way back to himself.

And when Charles fell ill one winter, YN took care of him, tending to him with a gentleness that melted his heart. She stayed up with him during the long, quiet hours, whispering words of comfort and promising to be there through every struggle. In these moments, their bond grew even deeper, a testament to a love that had weathered both joy and hardship.

As they stood at the altar, surrounded by friends, family, and teammates, YN and Charles were ready to make their vows. Carmen and Kikka sat in the front row, eyes bright with pride and joy. Beside Charles were his brothers, Lorenzo and Arthur, smiling as they watched him prepare for this moment. His mother beamed, her heart full as she looked upon the woman her son had chosen.

Charles took YN’s hands, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “YN,” he began, his eyes locked onto hers, “I promise to remember the first time we met, how I couldn’t take my eyes off you, even though I tried to hide it. I promise to remember the way our hands brushed that night, how that simple touch lingered in my mind, leaving me wanting more.”

He continued, each word carrying the weight of the memories they’d shared. “I’ll never forget that night when you stood at the edge of our table, looking a bit out of place but holding your ground. You were brought over by Carmen and Kika , and in that moment, I saw the light in you. I’ll always remember the little things—every look, every unplanned moment that led us here.”

The guests listened in quiet awe as Charles’s voice softened, recalling their first night spent together when their friends had set them up and then mysteriously disappeared, leaving YN and Charles to talk until dawn. “That night, we shared our dreams, our worries, and realized there was something real between us. I’ll remember our first date, the first time I knew I couldn’t imagine my life without you. And our first kiss… under the stars, when you made me realize I was yours.”

A few murmurs rippled through the guests, touched by the intimacy of his words. Charles glanced down briefly, then looked back at YN with warmth in his gaze.

“I promise to be there through the hard times,” he said. “When life feels overwhelming, when we’re far from each other, or when I’m struggling on the track. You’ve been my anchor, YN. Every DNF, every loss… you reminded me to keep going, to focus on what really matters. And I swear to always be there for you, too. Je serai là, toujours. No matter what.”

As he spoke, YN felt tears welling up, each word drawing her deeper into the shared memories that had brought them here. Charles’s hand gently held hers as he continued with a soft smile.

“Most of all, I promise to dream with you,” he said. “To talk about our future, our plans—our maison, our home. I promise to hold your hand as we build a life together, to be by your side as we fill it with laughter, with love, and maybe, one day… a family.”

His voice softened further, his gaze locked on hers. “Je t’aime, pour toujours,” he finished, his promise shimmering in the air around them. Their future was bright, and they stood ready to embrace it, together.

YN took a deep breath, her heart swelling with love for the man standing before her. With a tender smile, she began her vows. “Charles,” she said, her voice steady but filled with emotion, “I promise to be there for you through the quiet, simple moments and the chaos of our lives. To always support you, laugh with you, and hold you when things get tough. And, above all, to love you—today, tomorrow, and for the rest of our days.”

YN’s eyes shone as she looked at him, her words full of sincerity. “I promise to stand by your side through every challenge, every victory, and every ordinary day. To love you with patience, loyalty, and understanding. I’ll be there for the tough times and the joyous ones, just as you have always been for me.”

The guests exchanged knowing glances, touched by the beauty of their vows. Charles’s eyes glistened with emotion as YN finished.

They exchanged rings, sealing their promises to each other with a gentle kiss. The applause of their loved ones filled the air, a beautiful sound marking the start of a new chapter in their journey. Together, they had built something real—a love that would last forever.

A few years later…

.

.

.

The house was still, save for the gentle hum coming from the nursery. YN leaned against the doorway, watching Charles as he rocked their newborn daughter, Léa, back and forth in his arms. The soft glow of the nightlight cast a warm light on them, bathing the room in peace.

Charles looked down at Léa, his face softened with awe as he whispered to her, his voice tender. “Someday, ma petite, I’ll tell you the story of how I met your Maman. She’s the reason you’re here, the reason I know what love truly means.”

He looked up and caught YN’s gaze. In that moment, their hearts were fuller than they ever imagined, their shared journey now deepened by the tiny life they’d created together.

Every promise they had made was now a part of their everyday life, woven into the laughter and warmth of their home. Their vows had been the foundation, but now they were building something new—something lasting and beautiful. And as they stood together, their child in their arms, they knew their story was only just beginning.

[lvmoure]

Baby Fever CS55

Pairings: Carlos Sainz x reader

Summary: In which they are both ready to step into the next label.

Warnings: none, pure fluff

You always wanted to be a mother. Sure, that feeling had been quietly humming in the background of your life, an almost imperceptible ache that grew steadily, but with each passing day, it had become stronger. And then came Carlos, so full of life, his laughter, his spirit—it was easy to imagine what a child of his would be like. It was easy to picture a little version of him running around, their laughter echoing like his, their eyes bright and curious, filled with the same intensity. But that conversation hadn’t come up yet, at least not seriously. So when you two were asked to babysit the nieces and nephews for a day, it felt like fate had a way of pushing things along.

The house was a flurry of tiny, rapid footsteps and loud giggles, toys scattered around like the remnants of a colorful hurricane. You and Carlos sat in the living room, surrounded by your nieces and nephews—three kids, all under the age of six, with boundless energy that made your head spin just watching. You’d spent most of the morning playing referee, distributing snacks, and occasionally rescuing someone from a tiny, toddler-sized disaster.

Carlos leaned back on the couch, one arm draped lazily over the cushions, watching you as you coaxed little Ana out of her hiding spot behind the couch with promises of her favorite juice. He shot you that lopsided grin, the one that told you he was just as entertained watching you in action as he was by the kids themselves.

“You’re a natural, you know that?” he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear over the din of the children. His eyes had softened, a flicker of something warm and tender lingering there as he watched you.

You gave him a little smirk, tilting your head as you shrugged. “I think they’re just easily bribed with juice.”

Carlos chuckled, but his gaze lingered, like he was seeing something deeper. The kids were a whirlwind, tugging at his hands, demanding his attention just as much as yours. Ana climbed into his lap at one point, babbling about a story she half-invented, and he listened with exaggerated nods and expressions that had her giggling and clapping her hands in delight. You watched, heart swelling a bit as he played along, his big hands carefully adjusting her tiny, mismatched socks as she tried to describe an adventure involving a princess and a dragon.

Carlos had always been good with kids. He had a playful, patient streak that you couldn’t help but admire. He could make them laugh with the silliest faces, and he listened to their stories like they were the most important tales he’d ever heard. He was gentle with them in a way that made your heart ache a little bit more, that made you picture what it would be like if he were playing like this with a child that was truly yours.

As the afternoon wore on, it became clear that the kids were getting antsy. When Mateo, your five-year-old nephew, started whining about going to the park, you exchanged a look with Carlos.

“How about it?” Carlos asked, nudging you. “Think you can handle a few hours outdoors?”

You rolled your eyes but grinned, nodding. “Let’s go, little ones. Grab your shoes!”

The sun was warm but gentle as you made your way to the park, your nephew Mateo holding onto your hand, chattering about his bike with a gleam of excitement in his eyes. He was getting better at riding, but he still needed someone nearby, just in case. Carlos was by your side, his arm slung around your shoulders as you walked together, the two of you flanking Mateo like a protective shield.

Once at the park, you helped Mateo onto his little bike, adjusting his helmet and giving him an encouraging smile. “You ready to show us some cool tricks, little man?”

He beamed, a shy little nod as he gripped the handlebars and pedaled with a mix of concentration and excitement. You watched him with a tender expression, your hands hovering near him as he rode in small, careful loops.

Carlos leaned against a tree nearby, arms crossed, watching the two of you with an amused grin. “You’re babying him,” he teased softly, laughter in his voice.

You glanced back at him, giving him a mock glare. “He’s five, Carlos. Someone has to make sure he doesn’t fall on his face.”

He shrugged, but he kept watching, that warm, thoughtful look never leaving his eyes. You couldn’t help yourself; you crouched down, offering Mateo a quick high-five when he completed another successful lap around you. “You’re getting really good at this, you know? Soon, you’ll be riding like a pro.”

Carlos chuckled softly behind you, and you shot him a sidelong glance, hoping maybe he’d pick up on the way you looked at Mateo, the way you held his little hands and clapped for every small victory. But Carlos, ever the racer, seemed more focused on encouraging Mateo’s speed than anything else.

---

The park outing had gone well, and as the sun started to dip, the three of you made your way back. You were a little tired, but a sense of peace had settled over you, a kind of warmth that lingered even after you’d waved goodbye to Mateo and returned him to his parents.

But then Carlos had to go and be his usual self—playfully dense, occasionally oblivious in the most endearing way. Back at the house, he’d start poking fun, saying, “You’re really good at this, you know. Maybe I should be the one that needs babying around here.”

You just rolled your eyes, a little annoyed but amused. “Very funny, Carlos. Maybe I’m just practicing for the real thing, ever thought of that?”

“Oh, you mean more babysitting gigs?” He feigned innocence, that sly grin telling you he knew exactly what you meant. But he’d drawn it out, pretending not to catch your hints. It was almost maddening, the way he could pretend to be oblivious.

At one point, he’d even leaned close, murmuring into your ear, “I think you’d be an amazing mother.”

Your heart had skipped a beat, but he’d just grinned, kissing the top of your head as if he hadn’t just thrown you off balance with those words.

---

The next day, you both found yourselves wandering the mall. It was supposed to be a quick trip for groceries, but as you passed a baby shop—full of tiny clothes, soft blankets, and adorable little shoes—you couldn’t help but stop, your gaze lingering on a display of baby onesies.

Carlos raised an eyebrow, following your line of sight. “Something catch your eye?” he asked, his voice tinged with that playful edge, and you turned to him with a pointed look, letting your gaze drop deliberately to the baby clothes.

“Oh, I don’t know… Just thinking how cute it would be to have a little one of our own wearing something like this.” You said it casually, trying to keep the edge of hopefulness out of your voice.

But Carlos, ever the tease, just shrugged, giving you an exaggerated, thoughtful nod. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Our nieces and nephews would look adorable in that.”

You had to resist the urge to smack his arm, biting back an exasperated laugh as he gave you a wink, thoroughly enjoying his role as the clueless one.

Later that evening, after you’d both finally had enough of dancing around the topic, you found yourselves back at home, sitting together on the couch, a comfortable silence filling the space between you. You took a deep breath, gathering the courage to finally lay it all out, not a hint, not a joke—just honesty.

“Carlos,” you began softly, looking down at your hands, “I… I really do want a child. With you. And I’ve been dropping hints, but I think maybe it’s time I just… say it.”

Carlos looked at you for a long moment, his expression softening, a hint of surprise mixed with something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name. He reached out, taking your hands in his, his fingers warm and steady around yours.

“You should’ve just said so,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion as he gave you a gentle smile. “I want that too. I’ve wanted it for a while. I just wanted to make sure you were ready.”

You felt the tears prick at your eyes, a mix of relief and joy flooding your chest as you squeezed his hands. “I am ready. I’ve been ready for so long.”

Carlos pulled you into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his voice a quiet promise in your ear. “Then let’s make it happen. Our little family.”

[a-major-love]

Night Fever

Pairing - Michael Jackson x Fem!Reader

Summary - Of all people you could have met that fateful night, it had to be him.

Word Count - 1k+

Warnings - MDNI, fem pronouns, mentions of smoking & alcohol, no use of y/n

A/N - I always imagined dancing with Michael was incredibly fun but also probably intimidating. Enjoy!

1977

Spotlights pierced through the haze of smoke filtering the air, beaming down on the partygoers. Sweat rolled off their skin, mingling with the overpowering stench of perfume and cigarettes. The men and women’s eyes twinkled at you, sparkling from pressed glitter. Their bright, painted lips mouthed along to the stream of ABBA lyrics filling the crowded space. The music pouring from the speakers vibrated under your feet. Studio 54 was lively, and terrifying all at once. 

“Friday nights are always the busiest,” your friend – Alicia –  mentioned from beside you. Her stark black hair was pulled into a tight bun, revealing her teal colored eyeshadow. The sequined dress she wore hung off her bronzed shoulders, flecks of glitter dotted her skin. 

You glanced down at the denim jumpsuit you wore, with a thick belt secured around the waist. Somehow, despite the pumps digging into the soles of your feet, you felt mildly underdressed. You scanned the crowd, biting your lip as your eyes swept over the other dancers. 

“Let’s go, birthday girl,” Alicia said, nudging you towards the center of the room. 

You giggled. “I’m just trying to appreciate the atmosphere.” 

“Well, you can go appreciate it out on the dancefloor.” 

She grasped onto your forearm, pushing through the cluster of hot bodies that brushed against you two. You could feel the men’s gazes pass over you, their heavy eyes glancing over your form before looking away. Glasses with golden liquid, and pierced olives swung around you as the people got lost in the music. 

You finally approached the middle of the dance floor, where a bright, glowing disco ball hung above your heads. Alicia broke out into a grin, her pearly white teeth pointed to the ceiling. Her dangled hearings whipped around her face as she began swaying to the music.  

It was initially her idea, at first, to celebrate your birthday at Studio 54. All you knew about the nightclub was that the entrance fee was too expensive, and the line never seemed to ease up. As much as you adored Alicia, you couldn’t find a good reason to stand outside all night – in New York during the spring – hoping to make it inside before the place closed. If there’s one thing you understood about spring in New York, it was how cold the nights could be. 

So, how in the hell she pulled this off, you were sure she would take to her grave. 

You laughed, watching her bounce around, throwing her head back. Acting as if a plethora of eyes weren’t on her. You swayed your hips, letting your eyes close as the sweet sounding harmonies of the Bee Gees washed over you. It felt as if everybody on the dance floor was in sync, breathing and moving in time with each other. 

Sharing one heart, one pulse to the music. 

Your body moved and rocked, becoming bewitched by the entrancing tune. 

“Excuse me-

You suddenly bumped into someone, startling both you and the stranger. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you said, whipping around to face them. A pair of oak, brown eyes crinkled at you as the strange man chuckled to himself. 

“It’s alright,” he assured, adjusting his blazer. “You’re not a bad dancer, you know.” 

You playfully grinned at him, “Have you been watching me dance?”

“I – uh didn’t mean it like that,” he stammered.

You scanned the man, taking in his wide doe eyes and large afro currently dusted with glossy confetti. A gold pendant rested between the dip of his chest, a sliver of deep brown skin peaking through the few undone buttons.

Somewhere, in the back corners of your mind, familiarity tugged at your brain. 

“Have we met before?” you inquired, furrowing your brows. 

“No, we haven’t,” he answered, perhaps a little too quickly. 

You opened your mouth to reply, when he stuck his hand out. 

“Is it alright if we danced together?” he asked.

Heat creeped up your face, as you took his inviting hand – his skin was silky smooth and warm in your grasp. He softly smiled at you, as he tugged your form closer to him. Swiftly, he twirled you around, giggling at your reaction as you nearly stumbled from the sudden movement. You caught yourself in time, taking both his hands as you grooved to the deep bass coming from the speakers. 

His eyes remained trained on you, as if analyzing every motion and gesture you made. The music enveloped you two, as the dance floor fell away, along with the people surrounding it. The club was nothing but a blur of color, as the hot white lights radiated down on you two. The music pulsed through your skin, reverberating against your ribcage. The sweet, lingering scent of nicotine floated through the air. It was as if the dancefloor came alive from under your feet suddenly, a pulsating heartbeat belonging to the untamable beast known as music. His hands never left yours, as he pulled you into his side, before going into a spin. 

You watched, in fascination. “You’re not a bad dancer yourself.”

He bashfully smiled. “Well, I’ve been dancing for most of my life.”

“Do you do it for a career, or something?” “...You could say that.”

He twirled you again, interrupting whatever train of thought you were processing. 

The night went on endlessly it seemed, as if time had temporarily stopped. Yet, the crowd of Studio 54 never broke off. A stream of guests revolved in and out of the space, some dressed in dripping jewels that outshined the hanging disco ball or extravagant outfits that felt expensive to even look at. It felt as if you were in a lion's mouth, a wet, breathing cage waiting to clamp down on you. 

Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped around your frame.

“Let’s get going, my feet are killing me,” Alicia groaned, already tugging you away. 

“Wait!” The man called out, feeling your hand loosen in his grip. Alicia squinted at him, trying to make out his features through the alcohol induced brain fog. 

“You look a little familiar...” she muttered.

“I’ll meet you outside,” you explained, nudging your friend back. Alicia glanced over at you, glossy lips pouting at your urgency. She finally caved, rolling her eyes as she knowingly nodded and began to maneuver her way through the crowd. 

You turned to face him. “I had a really great time, uh-

“Michael,” he introduced, squeezing your hand. 

Had he been holding it the entire time?

“Well, it was really fun dancing with you, Michael.”

His eyes flickered between yours, as if weighing something in his mind. Michael eventually sighed, reluctantly loosening his grip and letting your hand fall to your side. 

“I hope we get to do it again, sometime,” he said. With wistful smile growing on his lips. 

You returned the smile, clenching your hand from the sudden loss of warmth. Without another word, you turned and made your way to the exit. 

The bumping music followed you out the double doors and onto the bustling street of New York City’s nightlife. A breeze brushed against your bare arms, biting at your skin. Alicia was leaning against a car, impatiently tapping her foot. Her eyes finally landed on you, wearing a strange expression you couldn’t quite place. 

“Girl, I have several questions,” she started, opening the car door for you. 

You snorted. “Ask me when it’s not past midnight.” 

She sidled into the passenger seat, as you started up the engine. The bright, white lights of Studio 54 reflected off the hood of your car. 

You could still feel his presence, even during the drive home. 

[xlettex]

In This Life and The Next||wakatoshi ushijima The Second Lifetime

You slipped into Wakatoshi's life so effortlessly, as if you had always belonged there. Love with you was steady, certain—something he never had to question. But fate is cruel. Bound by a love that transcends lifetimes, he’s haunted by the feeling that this isn’t the first time he’s had to say goodbye. Some loves are too strong for just one lifetime. But in this one, their story is doomed to end the same way.

pairing - wakatoshi ushijima x reader genre - tragic romance rating - 13+ chapter word count - 4.6k content warning - angst, grief, loss, terminal illness, emotional distress

Authors Note: Something about wakatoshi ushijima screams writing an angst story to me.

the first lifetime <- the second lifetime -> the last lifetime

Wakatoshi never believed in fate—only in discipline, precision, and effort. Love had always seemed like an afterthought, a distant thing meant for others. Then he met you.

It wasn’t dramatic—no sparks of destiny, no grand revelation. Just an autumn afternoon, the scent of freshly brewed coffee curling through the air, and a stranger who changed everything.

He had seen you before, hovering at the café counter, your presence always accompanied by an air of curiosity. But today was different.

This was the first time he noticed the delicate silver star hanging from a thin chain around your neck. The small pendant caught the café lights, glinting like something familiar, though he had no reason to recognize it. 

Then, without hesitation, you slid into the seat across from him, arms full of books, your lopsided grin filled with something both confident and teasing

"Are you always this stoic, or did I catch you on a bad day?"

He blinked at you, momentarily caught off guard. "I’m not stoic."

You tilted your head, unconvinced. "Debatable."

And just like that, his world shifted.

You became a fixture in his life before he could even question it. Your meetings weren’t planned, yet you always found your way to him, slipping into the chair across from him as though it had been reserved for you all along. 

Some days you came armed with questions about the book he was reading, challenging his thoughts, playfully disagreeing just to watch him counter your points. Other times you brought your novels, quietly sipping your coffee beside him, content in the shared silence.

And sometimes, when you were lost in thought—your fingers would brush over the star pendent absentmindedly—he would catch himself staring, a strange unease settling deep in his chest.

He never asked you about it, but the feeling lingered.

The first time you didn’t show up, he noticed.

The café felt too quiet, the air lacking the warmth you so effortlessly carried. He told himself it didn’t matter, that you were just some passing presence in his routine, but the next day, when you reappeared and dropped into the chair across from him with an exaggerated sigh, complaining about a missed train, he felt his chest ease.

That was when he realized he had been waiting for you.

Your love grew in the spaces between conversations—shared glances over coffee cups, the way your laughter softened the edges of his world, the quiet walks taken down lamplit streets, your hands brushing together like magnets pulling toward one another. 

He never reached first, always hesitant, but you were fearless in the way you touched him—light nudges when you made fun of him, casual hand-holding as you walked, arms linked when you pulled him toward a shop window to admire something he hadn’t noticed before.

One evening, you reached for his hand without thinking, intertwining your fingers as you crossed a small bridge. The river reflected the city lights, shimmering in the dark like scattered constellations.

You were mid-sentence when you noticed his silence.

“What?” you asked, glancing up at him.

He didn’t answer right away, instead, he stared at the joined hands, the warmth of your skin pressed against his own.

You laughed softly, following his eyes. “You act like I haven’t held your hand a hundred times before.”

Maybe you had–maybe in some other life, this was just another moment in an eternity of reaching for one another.

His grip on your hand tightened slightly, then his gaze drifted—to the delicate silver star resting just above your collarbone, glinting softly in the glow of the streetlights.

You always wore it.

Even now, as your fingers curled easily around his, your free hand instinctively brushed over the pendant, rolling it between your fingertips

“That necklace… you never take it off.” His voice was quieter now, contemplative.

You glanced down at it, thumb grazing over the tiny charm. “I don’t know why… but I never do.”

There was something distant in how you said it as if you weren’t entirely sure of the reason. But the way you held it—the way you needed to hold it—sent a strange ache through his chest.

“You’ve got this whole mysterious, brooding thing going for you,” you teased, nudging him playfully, lightening the air again. “But I know you have a soft side.”

He raised an eyebrow. "Do I?"

You squeezed his hand, your smile turning softer. "Yeah. I see it in the way you look at me."

Wakatoshi had never been good with words and had never known how to articulate the depth of how he felt. But at that moment, he wanted to tell you everything—that you had become his home, his anchor, the one thing that felt constant in a world that never stopped moving. Instead, he cupped your face, leaned down, and kissed you, letting the press of his lips speak the words he couldn’t.

You moved in soon after, seamlessly slipping into his life as if you had always belonged there. Your presence was everywhere—your books scattered across the shelves, your laughter filling the spaces between the walls, your scent lingering in the fabric of his sweaters when you borrowed them. You left notes on the fridge, playful reminders, and small affections scribbled in your looping handwriting.

Eat something before practice. I love you. Did you know you talk in your sleep? It’s adorable. I stole your hoodie. Again. You’ll survive.

You hummed in the kitchen as you made coffee, your soft melodies carrying through the apartment. Sometimes, he would find you curled up on the couch, one of his oversized sweaters draped over your frame, a book resting open in your lap as you waited for him to join you.

But it was the quiet moments he loved most. The ones that didn’t seem significant at the time but stayed with him long after.

Like the way you got ready in the morning—still wrapped in a blanket, still half-asleep as you leaned into his side while brushing your teeth beside him. You never said much in those moments, just murmured a sleepy “morning” before wrapping your arms around his middle. 

And maybe, just maybe, that was what love looked like to him—sleepy grumbles, warm embraces, and the quiet comfort of knowing someone was always there.

He wasn’t always good with words, but he showed love in the way he always made sure your phone was charged before bed, in the way he shifted closer in his sleep just to keep you warm, in the way he adjusted your blankets in the middle of the night without waking you.

You understood him without needing grand gestures. He didn’t need to tell you he loved you every second of the day—you already knew. Because love was in the smallest things, in the way his hand always found yours in a crowded space, in the way he memorized your coffee order. And in return, you made his world softer, warmer.

Mornings became your favorite part of the day. He was always up first, a creature of habit, but you weren’t far behind. You would shuffle into the kitchen, still heavy with sleep, your hair tousled from the night before. He started making your coffee just the way you liked it—honey instead of sugar, a little too much milk. And every morning, you would smile at him over the rim of your cup like it was the best thing you had ever tasted.

"Perfect, as always," you would say, pressing a kiss to his cheek before settling into the chair across from him.

And he would watch you, coffee in hand, memorizing the way you looked bathed in the early morning light as if he could trap time in those moments.

One evening, as you lay tangled together in bed, you murmured, “What would you do if you could live a thousand lifetimes?”

He was quiet for a moment, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns along your spine. Then, in a voice so steady, so certain, he answered—

“Find you.”

As if it was the simplest thing in the world.

And maybe it was.

Because love—your love—was something that had always existed. Even before this life. Even after it. And deep down, maybe he had always known that, too.

You fit into his world so seamlessly that he forgot what life had been like before you.

And yet, no matter how tightly he held onto you, no matter how deeply he loved you, it would never be enough to stop what was coming.

It started as a simple cough—harmless, fleeting. You brushed it off with a wave of your hand, laughing when he frowned.

"Just the change in weather," you assured him. "I’m fine."

But it didn’t go away.

At first, it was subtle—small moments he almost convinced himself weren’t real. The way you cleared your throat too often. The way you pressed your palm against your chest absentmindedly. The way you seemed just a little too tired after a long day, resting your head against his shoulder earlier than usual.

"You should sleep more," he murmured one night as they lay in bed, his fingers brushing through your hair.

"Maybe," you hummed in response, eyes already drifting closed.

He told himself it was nothing. That you were simply overworked. That the seasons were changing. That you would be fine.

Then the coughing fits came. Deeper. More persistent. Some were so strong they left you winded, struggling to catch your breath.

"Maybe you should see a doctor," he said one evening, watching as you rubbed a hand over your throat.

You waved him off with a smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek as if that could ease his concern.

"It’s nothing," you murmured. "Just a little run-down."

And he let himself believe you.

Until the morning he woke to the sound of your coughing—deep, wracking, painful.

The kind of cough that tore through your chest, rattling in your lungs. The kind that made the sheets tremble with your small frame.

He turned over in an instant, eyes heavy with sleep before quickly sharpening in focus.

"Baby?"

You were gripping the blankets, your body curled in on itself, your face pale. When you pulled your hand away from your mouth, his stomach clenched.

Blood.

It was just a smear of red against your palm. Small. Almost unnoticeable. But to Wakatoshi, it was enormous, the weight of it crashing into him like a tidal wave.

You stared at your hand for a long moment, as if you couldn’t quite believe it either. Your breath was uneven, eyes flicking up to meet his own.

And then, finally, you sighed.

"Okay," you whispered. "Maybe I should see a doctor."

The waiting room was sterile and cold, the kind of cold that seeped into your bones, making you feel as if you’d never be warm again. The walls were a lifeless gray, the soft hum of fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead.

Wakatoshi sat beside you, his fingers intertwined with yours, gripping them too tightly. He could feel the bones beneath his palm, how delicate they suddenly seemed. You had always been small compared to him, but now, you felt fragile.

You leaned into him, exhaustion clinging to you like a second skin.

Neither of them spoke.

When the doctor arrived, his words were careful, and cautious, as if they might soften the blow of what he was about to say.

"It’s advanced."

A pause.

"We’ll do everything we can."

Another pause.

"We can fight it, but…"

But.

That single word sliced through him, jagged and unrelenting.

Wakatoshi barely registered the rest, his ears ringing, his breath tight in his lungs. He only noticed the way your hand had gone still in his, how the room felt unbearably small, closing in on them with every second.

He clenched his jaw, barely suppressing the tremor in his fingers.

"We’ll fight it," he said, a promise, a plea, a desperate refusal to accept what they were being told.

You exhaled slowly, your lips curving into something that was meant to be a smile.

"Yeah," you murmured. "We will."

But you knew.

And deep down, so did he.

The days following the diagnosis felt like they were moving in slow motion.

You went through the motions of treatment, but there was something different in the way you moved. A quiet acceptance in the way you carried yourself. He hated it.

He wanted you to fight. He needed you to fight.

So he researched.

At night, after you had fallen asleep, he sat in the dim glow of his laptop screen, reading every article, every clinical trial, every treatment option that could give them hope. He called doctors, and hospitals and reached out to people he hadn’t spoken to in years, searching for something—anything—that could fix this.

"You’re not eating enough," he murmured one morning, setting a plate in front of you.

You smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

"I’m just not hungry."

"You need to eat." His voice was firm, the same unwavering certainty he used on the court, in the weight room, and in every area of his life where effort equaled results.

But this wasn’t like that.

Because no matter how much effort he put in, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fix this. You reached for his hand instead of the food.

"Toshi."

The way you said his name—soft, understanding—sent a sharp pain through his chest.

"You can’t make this go away."

His jaw tightened, his fingers twitching slightly in yours.

"I can try."

Your gaze held his for a long moment before you finally spoke, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I know you want to, but… some things just aren’t in our control."

He didn’t want to hear that, didn’t want to accept it.

You were his. And he had always believed that if he worked hard enough, pushed hard enough, he could hold onto the things that mattered.

But this was slipping from his grasp, and no amount of strength could stop it.

So he did the only thing he could.

He held you.

He held you when you were too weak to stand. He held you when you cried in frustration at your own body betraying you. He held you in the middle of the night when the pain was too much, when you clung to him, shaking, and whispered apologies into his chest as if you had any reason to be sorry.

"I hate this," you confessed one night, your voice trembling.

"I know," he whispered back, pressing his lips to your forehead.

He wanted to tell you that he would trade places with you in a second. That he would take the pain, the exhaustion, the sickness if it meant you could stay. But words felt useless, hollow. So instead, he held you tighter, as if he could tether you here just by will alone.

But he was losing you.

Day by day.

Your body grew weaker, exhaustion settling deep in your bones, the color slowly draining from your cheeks.

But still, you wore the necklace.

He noticed it more now.

The way your fingers drifted to it absently, rolling the delicate silver star between them, as if grounding yourself in something unseen.

The way you clung to it in your sleep, fingers curled around the charm as if it held a promise only you understood.

The way, even as your body betrayed you, you never once took it off.

One night, as you lay curled against his chest, he traced the chain lightly, where it rested against your collarbone.

"Why do you always wear this?" His voice was quiet, uncertain.

Your fingers found the pendant instantly as if they had always known where it was.

You smiled faintly but didn’t answer right away.

"I don’t know," you admitted softly. "It just… feels like I have to."

There was something in the way you said it—a quiet certainty in an answer that didn’t quite make sense—that sent an ache curling through his chest.

He didn’t press further.

Didn’t ask why your fingers always held it a little tighter when you thought he wasn’t looking.

Didn’t ask why, even as your body failed you, you never once thought to take it off. 

He just watched and memorized.

Memorized the way your fingers curled around the charm in your sleep rolling it absentmindedly between them– like a habit older than time itself.

Later, he would understand…

..when it was far too late.

The months stretched on, and you grew weaker. 

Your laughter became quieter, your steps slower, your touch featherlight. But still, you smiled for him.

"You’re not supposed to cry," you teased one evening, brushing your fingers against his cheek. He hadn’t even realized he was crying.

"I don’t want you to be sad," you whispered, your voice raw from the illness stealing you away.

"How could I not be?" His voice was steady, but something was breaking beneath it. "You are my whole world."

You chuckled softly. "You make it sound like I’m vanishing forever."

He said nothing because the truth was too unbearable. He wished he could stop time, and hold you a little longer. But the reality was cruel.

There were good days, and Wakatoshi clung to them like lifelines. One afternoon, you twirled in the living room, laughing as you pulled him close. 

"Dance with me."

He held you carefully, afraid you might disappear right there in his arms. And for a moment, nothing had changed. You were still here, still warm, still looking up at him with the same brightness in your eyes that had captivated him from the start.

Then there were the bad days. The laughter faded, replaced by coughing fits that tore through your small frame, your body curling inward as you struggled to breathe. Panic clawed at his chest as he held you upright, rubbing soothing circles into your back, his voice murmuring, “Breathe, baby. Breathe.”

You gasped against his chest, shaking your head, your fingers clutching onto him as though you were terrified of slipping away. By the time it passed, your body was limp, exhausted, your face pale and damp with sweat.

That night, he carried you to bed, cradling you like you were made of porcelain like you might shatter if he wasn’t careful. He lay beside you, tucking the blankets around you as if they could protect you from what was coming. His fingers brushed over your knuckles, his lips against your temple, whispering "I love you, I love you," as if saying it enough times could root you to this world.

But love wasn’t enough.

You prepared him in the only way you could—leaving notes hidden in places you knew he would find them long after you were gone.

Some were folded in his gym bag, others tucked between the pages of books on the shelves, and one—sealed inside the pocket of his coat.

I love you. You’ll be okay, even if you don’t believe it now.

He found them too soon.

Days after finding your notes, he sat beside you, the weight of them still heavy in his chest.

The hospital lighting was harsh—too bright, too sterile—casting cold shadows against the walls. It made everything feel unnatural, as if this moment wasn’t real, as if you weren’t fading before him.

The machines hummed softly, an IV drip slowly feeding into your veins. The rhythmic beep of the heart monitor was steady, a quiet reminder that time was slipping through his fingers. You reached for his hand, your grip weaker than it had ever been. He immediately laced his fingers with yours, grounding you both. 

"Read to me?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

His throat tightened, but he nodded, reaching for the book you had always loved. His voice was steady, and measured, even as his chest ached with every word.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he read, a small, tired smile gracing your lips. Your free fingers drifted to your necklace, rolling the delicate silver star between them as if anchoring yourself to something unseen.

Next time," you murmured, your voice so faint he almost missed it. "In our next life, let’s meet sooner."

His grip on your hand tightened.

"We will."

And he kept reading.

But before he could finish the next page, you shifted slightly against the pillows, your voice soft but laced with something undeniably you—that teasing familiarity, even now.

"Toshi?"

He stopped mid-sentence, eyes flicking to your face.

"Yeah?"

You smiled—weak, tired—but still so vibrant.

"Can you get me some of that terrible hospital jello?"

For a second, he almost laughed, a breath of relief slipping through his lips at the sheer normalcy of it.

"Yeah, love. I’ll be right back."

It was such a simple request. Such an ordinary moment. And he let himself believe, just for a little while longer, that there was still time. That you would still be here when he came back.

That this wasn’t the last time.

He left the book on the bedside table, stood up, and stepped out of the room. It took him only minutes to return—barely enough time for the gelatin to wobble in the flimsy cup he carried.

But as soon as he stepped inside, he knew. The untouched jello slipped from his fingers. The small plastic cup hit the ground with a muted thud, red pooling across the sterile white tile.

But he didn’t notice.

Didn’t care.

Because everything was still.

Too still.

He hesitated in the doorway, gripping the frame as if it was the only thing keeping him upright. The air felt thick, suffocating, pressing in around him with a silence that felt wrong.

He tried to push past it.

You're just asleep, he told himself. You're resting. You're still here.

But then he realized—he couldn’t hear it.

The steady beeping of the heart monitor. The quiet, rhythmic sound that had become the backdrop to every moment spent at the hospital.

It was gone.

His stomach lurched.

Your pillow was still indented, the blankets carefully tucked around you—just as he had left them. The book he had been reading to you remained untouched, its last words still hanging in the air—never to be heard, never to be finished. The cup of coffee he had made that morning sat untouched, long gone cold.

Everything was the same. And yet, everything had changed. His feet felt heavy, like wading through water, like if he walked too fast, reality would catch up with him.

His hands shook as he reached for you, heart hammering, whispering a plea before he even touched you—

Please, please, please—

"My love," he whispered, reaching for your hand.

Still warm.

But limp.

His fingers closed around yours, squeezing gently. You didn’t squeeze back. His stomach dropped. He tried again, this time a little firmer, searching for any sign of response.

Nothing.

A sharp breath punched from his chest, his throat burning as he sucked in air that refused to fill his lungs.

"Baby?"

You didn’t move. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay calm, to be rational, to not fall apart—not yet.

He lifted your fingers to his lips, pressing a desperate kiss against them, but they remained limp in his grasp. His free hand ghosted over your cheek, then curled under your chin, tilting your face toward him.

You looked peaceful. Your lashes rested lightly against your skin, your lips still slightly parted, as if you had only just exhaled.

A strangled sound escaped his throat.

"No."

He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his body shaking as his arms wrapped around you.

"No, no—baby, come back."

But you had waited for him to leave before letting go. The realization hit like a knife to the gut, twisting deep.

You had known. You had known and hadn’t told him. Had let him walk out that door, let him believe he had more time, let him think he could return to you still breathing.

You had done this for him. You had spared him the pain of watching you die. And somehow, that only made it worse.

"Why?" His voice was hoarse, broken, barely more than a whisper. "Why didn’t you tell me?"

Why hadn’t you let him be there? Had you thought it would hurt him less? Had you thought it would make it easier?

Didn’t you know that losing you—again—would never be easy?

A sob wrenched itself free from his chest, sudden and forceful, sending his whole body lurching forward. His forehead pressed against your shoulder, his fingers digging into the fabric of your shirt, clinging to the last traces of warmth in your skin.

"I should have stayed," he choked out. "I should have known—I should have—"

His voice broke entirely, dissolving into something unrecognizable.

If he had just been here. If he had held you, whispered to you, told you one last time how much he loved you If he had stayed.

If, if, if.

But he hadn’t.

And you were gone.

He needed someone to blame.

The universe. The doctors. Fate itself.

But when the silence stretched on, swallowing him whole, there was only one name that echoed back at him.

His own.

He had left you.

And now, you had died alone.

His shoulders shook violently as he buried himself into you, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. His hands grasped at you, desperate, helpless, his body curled around yours as he could somehow keep you anchored to him if he just held on tight enough.

But you weren’t coming back. The room was unbearably still. And then he saw it.

Next to you, lying carefully atop your final note, was the silver star necklace.

The chain had been unclasped, the delicate charm placed gently on the folded paper—not discarded, not forgotten, but waiting. As if, even in your final moments, you had known.

As if you had left it for him. His hands shook as he reached for it, lifting the tiny star into his palm. You had taken it off.

For the first time.

As if you had known he would need something to hold onto. As if you had wanted him to keep this piece of you.

His breath hitched, vision blurring, as his thumb instinctively brushed over the charm, rolling it between his fingers—just as you always had.

A shudder ran through him.

The motion was familiar.

Too familiar.

It was muscle memory. A habit that had never belonged to him. And yet, his fingers knew exactly how to move.

Something inside him cracked.

A battlefield. A letter never answered. A love waiting in vain for a soldier who never came home.

The memory slammed into him like a tidal wave, rushing past the walls of time, drowning him in the weight of something he had long forgotten.

But you hadn’t forgotten. You had known. You had waited for him then, just as you had waited for him now.

And just like before, he hadn’t made it in time.

His breath came sharp and uneven as his trembling fingers unfolded the note beneath the necklace.

There were only five words.

Yours, always. In this life and the next.

Fate had stolen you from him.

Again.

In this life.

In the one before it.

In every existence, they were given.

A cruel, relentless cycle, where no matter how tightly he held on, no matter how desperately he reached for you, something always pulled you away.

It was always like this.

Loving you.

Losing you

Finding you again, just to lose you once more.

Left behind, holding onto ghosts, remembering a love that was never meant to last.

But even through the gut-wrenching grief, through the unbearable weight of regret, he knew this wasn’t the end.

Because some loves are too strong to be bound by just one existence.

And in the next life, he would find you again.

And next time—next time—he would not let you go.

[idlerin]

nonsense — 36. need you like oxygen

you still thought of kenma’s message 3 hours later.

it was a good reminder to have, everything that’s happening isn’t something controlled by a superior being pulling at the strings of fate. it was at your pace, you knew oikawa would do it at your pace, but recently, you’ve started to wonder what pace did you want it to go? because with oikawa, it was as if settling back into your previous dynamic was just… comfortable. it wasn’t easy and yet it wasn’t difficult. perhaps, it was his general presence that was familiar and secure, even so, it also felt as if you were experiencing new things with the same person who used to hold your heart.

it was still his to hold onto.

all those months and years of wallowing in fury, being hung up on something that had long since passed. something that no one could blame you for as it left a huge gash in your mind and heart. oikawa wasn’t the primary person to blame for all of the pain you experienced in the past but he was one of the catalysts, the amount of love you gave him in the past was the same love that made you blind with hate.

you’re grateful that despite everything, you received a great support system from your friends. you could say that they were a major part of why you persevered, worked hard, and keep on working hard in the present.

did you ever plan to mend your relationship with your parents? you want to, but not now. there were things you were ready for and things you were not. you think it’s completely fine to focus on things that make you happy until you’re ready to handle more strenuous things of the heart. you were just beginning to fix your relationship with oikawa, and you think that you’d like to completely mend things with him so you could face your parents together. you admit it’s unfair for you to put this expectation on him, but all you wanted was to be completely sure that he was there for you.

you wanted to be constantly assured that he was all in, not just dipping his hands again in waters he didn’t know how to handle. it was the same for you, you wanted to be a better partner, because to be honest, you still weren’t fully convinced that you deserved him. 

again, that train of thought was unfair to both you and oikawa, because you were both trying to be better. it’s not like you could stop these insecurities, you’re also trying your best to repress the negative train of thoughts but you just couldn’t help it. it’s not something to blame anyone on but yourself.

just earlier, when you were surprised to find that oikawa visited you near your university just because he wanted to see you again (where you soon found out he was conspiring with your friends who told on your possible location)— ignoring the fact that you spend practically everyday with him now, unless he had a full packed schedule, it was never enough for him, so to say, he could never get enough of you— made you feel treasured and important. you only hope you could display the same amount of affection towards him in a way that he would notice that his efforts are being reciprocated.

it was a bit difficult to confront him and be open whenever it came to work. there would always be certain boundaries set in place, and one of those would be pretending you didn’t know each other, you didn’t spend countless hours rememorizing his facial features, you didn’t spend years aching for and because of him. you both had to be professional, and you both knew what the nature of his job entailed from the very beginning.

you would always have to be careful because you didn’t know what the consequences would be.

you let out a deep breath.

you were thinking too much again, it contrasted the good mood you were in this morning. you were beginning to resonate with one of those overused corny inspirational quotes that goes along the lines of “your mind is your biggest enemy” at this moment, that cringey quote is completely relatable.

you snapped out of your daze thanks to akane nudging your shoulder. you glanced at her with blinking eyes because of being startled, “sorry, did i space out?”

“no worries, we aren’t even doing anything right now. something on your mind?” akane asked, “is it about a certain good-looking famous heartthrob you’re dating?” she wiggled her brows to tease.

you let out a chuckle and roll your eyes playfully, “whenever i space out, it isn’t always about him you know?” you hit her softly on the shoulder.

“so you’re practically saying it’s usually about him—wait,” akane made an exaggerated shocked expression, “you didn’t deny that you were dating!” she grasped your shoulders, “oh my god tell me all the details!”

“what do you mean?” you scrunched up your nose, squinting your eyes at her.

“hey whenever i used to say “dating” and you-know-who in one sentence you would always like refuse and stuff and deny it then you would deny it even more but this time you didn’t! so that means something,” akane proudly concluded.

“there’s nothing to tell,” you stubbornly say, shrugging and smirking when akane dramatically whines.

“come on, [name],” akane pleads, you know she’s been wanting to know ‘all the juicy details’ for days now.

“nope! now enough of that, where is everybody?” you just realized that you and akane were the only ones in the studio, you checked your watch and it was break time, “riseki too, did he go out to eat without us?”

akane grumbled before fixing herself up, “they all went to watch the live interview of oikawa-san in studio 2, did you not know? i came to pick you up here for that reason cause i thought you might want to watch too. although you probably see his face all the time even during non-working days but i thought it was weird you weren’t there! it’s a big deal you know cause it’s the first time this famous magazine is going to a celeb for the interview, the actors and actresses they invite usually have to come by their studio.”

oikawa mentioned that particular interview earlier in the car, he said he wanted you to watch if you were free (because he didn’t know the exact time they would drop by, you interjected then, asking “how would i know when to watch, then?” he merely answered, “i think you would notice,” he grinned at you), he said it so nonchalantly with the same amount of arrogance as usual that you didn’t think of it as such a big deal. leave it to him to act as if big things weren’t of much importance, of course you wanted to watch.

you then held onto akane’s wrist with a sudden burst of impatience, “come on let’s watch, i’ve probably missed a lot already,” you clutched her hand.

akane made a skeptical—obviously would get you some profuse teasing later on— face, “well someone’s eager.”

“yeah yeah i know, tease me about it later,” you gave up on acting cool when it came to things about oikawa and pulled on her hand to get going.

a crowd.

a crowd is what greeted you the moment you entered studio 2, it looked like everybody decided to spend their break watching oikawa’s interview. that was how enamored with him they were. you hear the whispers of “oikawa-san is so nice” and “he’s so understanding and approachable” so you knew he was definitely a staff favorite. you could even say he was the actor everyone liked the most, if the incessant fangirling and fanboying every working day wasn’t already an evident tell. among the heads of hairs, you could see a glimpse of the magazine crew (because they were unfamiliar faces) maneuvering the equipment like the lighting and fan for the interviewer and oikawa. you could only see the side of his head properly from where you were standing, but you could hear his voice.

“—still overwhelming, years into acting. i still feel like i need more experience, you know? i’m very grateful for the opportunities given to me. i could say that fate’s ridicule ways is a project that i’ve never done before so everything’s really cool,” the smooth baritone of his voice gave a funny feeling in your stomach, no matter how many times you’ve heard it before.

“ooh! i see riseki over there, c’mon [name], he’s standing closer,” akane whispers to you and is now dragging you towards riseki who was indeed nearer the set up (not without a bunch of “excuse me’s” and “oops, sorry’s”). riseki spotted the two of you and ushered you over quickly with him, he even sent you a sly wink and eyes pointedly looking at oikawa. you resist a chuckle and settle for lightly hitting his arm which he smiles-laughs at.

“hmm something you haven't done before? so are the rumors true? your character isn’t going to be one of the ‘good guys’?” the interviewer’s brows were raised, very interested in what he seemed to have discovered.

oikawa’s laughter rang through the studio, “clever, it’s better to wait till it airs,” he smirks. in the middle of his laughter and the interviewer pretending to be dismayed, your eyes met. you notice the slight tense he had on his shoulders softened, and he sends you a secret smile. he was more at ease now that he saw you in the crowd, it gave you a rush, a reminder of how much you really affected him.

“you got me with that one,” the interviewer pretended to think, “how about your rumored romance with alisa haiba’s character? with the kind of teasers coming out, with you and haiba’s pairing putting into work, both of your influences are skyrocketing, what do you have to say about that?” the interviewer sat in a curious position.

“uhm…” oikawa spent a good minute thinking, “i don’t really have anything to say, sorry,” he laughs again, “it’s insane how much people like seeing us together, alisa and i are good friends, i only wish well for both her and i’s careers.”

the interviewer nodded, “alright onto the next—oh just the right question. which actor or actress in fate’s ridicule ways do you like working with the most?” the look on their face insinuated that they already had an expected answer, they were only waiting for oikawa to say it.

the interviewer wanted tooru to mention alisa’s name.

that would surely make thousands of fans go insane. you gulped, you’ve seen fans on the internet ship them, to the point of even making compilations of the limited clips tooru and alisa had together, giving meaning to actions neither actors had thought twice of. they were currently one of the internet’s most talked about on-screen couples despite the show not having been aired yet. you tried to not let it bother you that much since it was inevitable due to the nature of their characters and tooru and alisa’s chemistry even you couldn’t deny.

after all, it was all just work and at the end of the day you were the one presence oikawa seeked to have near all the time.

that was supposed to assure you, it was supposed to be enough.

but it’s not.

again, it’s no one’s fault but yours, that’s why you have to act like normal and not like jealousy is absolutely eating you alive.

ah, that sounds wrong, it’s like you’re making yourself out to be some easily bitter person. you have no ill will towards alisa, in fact, you adore her. maybe it really was different when you know that the person you’re in love with couldn’t flaunt you freely at all.

were you really not cut out for this? if you didn’t break up 3 years ago, would you have broken it off eventually?

“i don’t really have a favorite person to work with, everyone’s really talented and nice—” oikawa began.

“what about haiba-san?” someone from the crowd couldn’t help but shout. it was one of the regular staff, and they must have been forced to shut up by someone nearby because all you could hear after was a muffled grumble of protest.

since the world is cruel, that's when oikawa’s eyes met yours again. he must have seen something he didn’t like because his face contorted into displeasure. you wondered what kind of expression you were making right now for him to look so concerned.

“oh? you heard them, looks like you and alisa have fans even among the crew,” the interviewer tried pushing it.

right then, you felt akane’s hand grabbing yours and comfortingly caressing it with her thumb.

oikawa shook his head, “alisa is lovely to work with, but i don’t have a favorite workmate,” he was suddenly a bit more serious, he must have realized he sounded too stern because he let out a smile, “i can’t just possibly choose only one, we’re all one big family on set.”

the interviewer finally let it go once he realized he really wasn’t going to get anything from oikawa. they moved on to the next questions and the rest of the interview flowed smoothly. the whole time, oikawa kept sneaking glances at you as if at any moment you would storm out and disappear. he acted as he usually did and he did it well, but you notice that the slight tense on his shoulders was back again.

you couldn’t focus properly the whole time too, but you didn’t want to leave. you didn’t want to miss this interview since oikawa wanted you to watch, because of that you want to be there to see the whole thing through. whenever one of those sneaky glances came to be, you gave him a small smile to assure him that you were fine and he was doing great.

the interview concluded and everyone started to disperse, going back to their assigned tasks. you only see oikawa and the interviewer shaking hands, having a little chat. you don’t know why you’re hoping you could have time to talk to him a bit, it didn’t look like he had a moment to slip away from the spotlight. maybe in the silly little head of yours you just wanted to have a one-on-one talk with him, if you do that, maybe the erratic beating of your heart that isn’t due to excitement would stabilize.

riseki tapped your shoulder, “they’re calling the interns over, i think we have to help with some paperwork,” he said to both you and akane. riseki gave you a concerned look but before he could say something you cut him off by grabbing his hand and tugging akane over.

“what are you both waiting for then? let’s go,” you force out a laugh.

you fail to notice the glance oikawa sent your way.

which means you also failed to notice his dismayed expression, he wanted a chance to talk to you before he went back to filming again. what happened earlier must have fed into your insecurities again, oikawa knows of it because of the things you’ve told him before. he just wanted to make sure you were okay, you were just slowly giving him your trust again, he doesn’t want to accidentally lose it again.

it was awful timing that tooru and alisa had a specific scene they had to film together today. that scene had to be the one that required both of them to be in extremely close proximity. you were even more unluckier that you had to assist one of the professionals during their scene. It was their confrontation scene you think, you read through their script due to oikawa just leaving it around in his penthouse. he didn’t mind you reading the manuscript but you don’t think it’s particularly something he’s allowed to do (he doesn’t care).

you can suffer for a few minutes, it’s fine, it won’t mean anything to either of them, so it’s fine. have you said that it’s fine? it’s fine, you’re fine.

so yes you can suffer for a little while.

and suffer you do.

“where do you think you’re going, emira?” oikawa (technically, oikawa’s character, dion) whispers to alisa. oikawa backs alisa into the wall, one of his hands holding a (fake) gun on the side of her head, his other hand grasping at her waist. it wasn’t a romantic scene in hindsight, but the enticing tension they were portraying was undeniable, “do you think i would just let you off?” his hold on her waist tightens ever so slightly.

“don’t be silly dion, i know you better now,” alisa spoke, acting as calm despite the obvious threat to her—emira’s—life. “you won’t shoot me,” she says confidently, looking oikawa straight in the eye.

“hm?” oikawa was amused, “but i’ve always wanted to get rid of you though? this is the perfect opportunity,” he fiddles with the gun, twisting it and smiling maniacally. you got the chills, you were so busy watching oikawa’s performance that you momentarily forgot where you were.

“you still need me,” alisa said, taking oikawa’s hand, the one holding the gun and placing it beneath her temple, “and i’m not scared of you.”

they were so close now, oikawa and alisa were a hair’s breadth away while you were the one feeling breathless.

“you’re bothersome, you should’ve stepped out of this mess a long time ago,” the hand oikawa had on her waist rose to her nape to tilt her head higher, “and yet you’re still here.”

“am i bothersome? or do i just make you feel things you shouldn’t dion?” alisa said.

he fell in love with her.

oikawa gave her a cruel smile, “you’re right… i fell in love with you,” he nudges the gun up harshly, “it’s not the nice kind of love, though,” he then starts letting go of the gun, letting it fall off to the side, “i want you in ways you wouldn’t.”

his hand that once held the gun now held alisa’s chin between his index and thumb, staring at her lips, that’s when she responds, “i don’t have to want it to like it, do i?”

that’s it.

you couldn’t take it anymore.

it was so frustrating how you were so… being so… childish, totally irrational, and how you were losing your mind over it. you were being unreasonably jealous and it’s starting to consume your train of thought.

“cut!” the director clapped, oikawa and alisa stepped away from each other and both began to be pampered by assistants, “perfect! that was great, the tension exuded was very alluring, it was amazing, it looked perfect,” the director looked and acted delighted, “i need a retake of the last few lines though, oikawa, maybe you could lean a bit more closer to alisa? and alisa could you make your expression look more like you don’t want it–but you do, do you get me? alright.”

both actors nodded and conversed about what they should do, oikawa took this slight break to look for you in the crowd too. he saw you, but you were heavily avoiding direct eye contact with him and it was very much obvious to him who seeks your attention so persistently.

your thoughts were all over the place, you definitely did not want to witness oikawa and alisa doing that last part again. luckily, the world gives you kindness this time around and the personnel you were assisting put you aside and told you heavenly words, “that’s all for my work today, thank you for your help. i think you could clock out early now too, just drop by your head kiddo.”

“thank you,” like actually thank you so much i can not handle more of that anymore, thank you so much! thank you! thank you! thank you! you said, you were very thankful in a lot of ways. he smiled at you before waving you farewell, you turn around and go to where riseki was standing to tell him you were allowed to leave early so you might just go ahead. “i’m almost done too, could you wait for me? akane might also be done in a few, maybe we could all drink out—moderately. what do you think?” riseki asked, you laughed when he said moderately probably because of your antics the last time you all went out drinking… and your thinking of oikawa again god. 

“sounds fun, i’ll roam around out though for a bit, i just don’t want to uhm…” you didn’t know how to word it properly, riseki looked to the center where the filming was going on and immediately understood. “it’s cool, i’ll ring you,” riseki nods and you smile at him before heading out.

you didn’t know what to do and you didn’t mean what to do while waiting for akane and riseki. you just didn’t know what to do to solve your complicated emotions, what could you do to make yourself be at ease? you understand that it’s normal, these kinds of feelings are always normal, but you don’t want it to be something normal because it’s such an awful feeling to have.

you started walking to calm yourself and your racing thoughts.

it was just… does he really not feel anything for the other person when he has to act scenes similar to that? how could he detach himself from the character he’s playing? you know that it’s all just a part of his job description. he was an actor, it was literally in the name. that’s why you were even more disappointed in yourself because it’s just nonsensical how you were reacting to this.

with this.. this ugly uncontrollable emotion that makes you want to cry.

but you’re not going to cry, you don’t want to cry anymore, you’ve been crying a lot these days and such a measly thing like this would not bring you to tears. you just need to take a deep breath, you can stay annoyed and frustrated with yourself but you will not result in waterworks.

you refuse.

you didn’t realize how far you’ve gotten on your walk, you managed to reach the park nearby. you then feel your feet starting to ache, it really does you no good to walk so far and for so long. as you were approaching a bench to rest on you felt a drop on your head. you tilted your head up and raindrops started pouring slowly one by one. shit, it was going to rain and you didn’t bring your bag with you, you only had your wallet and phone.

you reach in your pocket to get your phone out, just as you were about to call akane, your phone dies.

it died.

you’ve got to be kidding me.

there was nothing near to shield yourself from the rain, as is, if you ran towards the nearest shelter—which would probably take way too long to run towards, also would be very tiring and would not be worth much of your effort—you would be soaked thoroughly anyways. so what would be the point! you were tired, frustrated, and annoyed as you plopped yourself on the bench and let yourself be drenched by the rain with an angry look on your face.

you give up!

while you were accepting your fate and decided to angrily sit on a bench in the rain, back in the studio they were wrapping up oikawa and alisa’s scene. oikawa was in his trailer pacing back and forth because you weren’t answering any of his calls. all of his scenes for the day were done and he hoped you hadn’t already left because he wanted to take you home, but you couldn’t be contacted. were you upset with him? is that why you weren’t responding to him? he bit his lower lip in anxiousness, he was beginning to become really worried and started to think of possible situations you could be in as to why you couldn’t pick up your phone.

it made him worry more.

a knock on the door had him fix himself up as much as he could to look the least bit more composed, “sato?” he called, thinking it was his manager.

“uhm… no, sorry… it’s uh riseki, [name]’s friend, a fellow intern,” riseki began, oikawa instantly opened the door the moment he heard riseki mention your name. he knew this guy as one of the people that knows about the true nature of you and oikawa’s relationship.

“do you know where she is?” oikawa asked hurriedly which made riseki step back, he caught himself, “sorry.. i was just trying to contact her but she wasn't answering her phone. maybe you know where she is?” he smiled.

“that’s what i came to you about oikawa-san, she wasn’t answering my calls either. she left around 30 or so minutes ago to take a walk because she was going to wait for akane—another intern— and me so we could all go out. i thought of letting you know because well… she seemed to be in an awful mood when she left and i’m worried, you might know better how to face her and make her feel better you know? so yeah that was my train of thought but then it started to rain—” riseki got cut off.

“it’s raining and she’s out there?” oikawa was worried now, knowing you, you were probably drenched in the rain. oikawa looked around his trailer for an umbrella and grabbed the first one he saw.

“yeah so i—”

oikawa ran past him.

he ran frantically across the place, making some of the staff look over him in confusion, it wasn’t everyday you see him look and act so scatterbrained. good thing there was another scene being filmed as of now so the attention wouldn’t be on him, no one would look for him aside from his manager. the only thing on his mind was where you might have gone, he was worried sick. you couldn’t have wandered that far, right?

oikawa braved the rain and started heading out, if you were upset when you left riseki, oikawa deduced you were walking to clear your head, which meant you probably walked mindlessly for the most part so it would be difficult to figure where you could have went. oikawa wandered around the streets for a while, calling out your name in hopes you would respond. he was growing more and more restless. he had to think, think where you could possibly go.

there was a park near the studio, it was a 15? 20? minute walk away… could you have gone all the way there?

his feet started moving before he could finish his thought. the rain wasn’t forgiving and seemed to become harsher with every minute that passed, he didn’t want to waste another second. minutes felt as if it were eternity when the park came into oikawa’s periphery. he still kept calling out your name, he ran around the place before finally spotting your familiar figure sitting on one of the benches.

oikawa ran towards where you were, slowing down when he was inches away from you and his shadow covered yours, “[name],” he uttered in relief. he notices how soaked you were, from your hair to your clothes, his brows furrowed and he leaned the umbrella he was holding until it was hovering over you completely. he didn’t care that he was now getting ambushed by the rain, you were more important.

“i was looking everywhere for you,” oikawa says again, despite the harsh rain being too loud and muffling his voice, he wasn’t sure if you could hear him properly.

you said nothing back.

your head was lowered and it made oikawa more concerned, which is why he resorted to kneeling in front of you even if there was a wet patch on the ground. so he could be the one to look up at you and he could finally see your face. he was successful in his endeavor since this way, he does get to see your face. a pretty face that was looking at him in confusion, oikawa returned the look with a small smile.

“what are you doing?” were the first words you uttered to him, it made oikawa glad even if you sounded appalled.

“i wanted to see my pretty darling’s face, but she didn’t want to look at me,” oikawa said dramatically as he held the umbrella steady over your head, “you know i was calling you a lot, but you weren’t answering, i was worried sick, baby.”

“my.. phone died,” your mouth went agape, you were flabbergasted that he came all the way here to look for you, that you weren’t completely registering everything that was happening, so you blurt out your first observation, “get up from the ground, it’s wet and dirty,” you scolded.

“not important right now,” he says, “why did you run off here hm?” oikawa observes your face to check if there were any tear stains mixed in with the rain drops.

“i just wanted time alone,” you reply, looking to the side to avoid his gaze again.

“why did you just sit here in the rain?” he asks.

“the nearest shop is too far,” you mumble, fidgeting with the bottom of your shirt as you persistently avoid his gaze as much as you can.

oikawa found it a bit funny how it was just so you to not seek shelter just because it wasn’t worth your energy, but he didn’t get to ponder much on how amusing it is because he didn’t like that you won’t meet him in the eye, “did my darling cry?”

that made you look at him, to give him a piercing glare, but at least you looked at him, “i didn’t cry.”

oikawa felt that the mood was too gloomy, he couldn’t help but tease you, “my crybaby didn’t cry?”

“shut up,” you tried kicking him but accidentally splashed him with water instead. you looked apologetic but you didn’t say the words outright.

“hey! you’re the one that said that was dirty but you’re splashing me with it?” oikawa seemed amused though, he was even laughing, “come on, are you so sorry that you can’t look at me, baby?”

you ignore him.

“darling,” he calls, using his free hand to poke your waist.

you ignore him still.

“darling,” he started to poke you continuously, “[name], baby.”

you felt a tick on your forehead.

“darling, darling, darling,” he kept poking you with a little smirk on his face and continued to chant ‘darling’ without a hitch.

“you’re so annoying, tooru!” you were irritated with him now.

oikawa began to laugh uncontrollably, he laughed so hard that he was practically sitting on the ground now. he just thought that you were so cute, he couldn’t help it. meanwhile you started getting very annoyed at his laughter that you splashed him with the rainwater, this time very much intentional. he took this as the cue that he should stand up, you felt a bit bad, oikawa looked a bit roughed up, and he was still holding the umbrella over you. you were too lost in thinking about his actions that you didn’t know how to react when he splashed you with water.

“tooru!” you shouted and stood up from the stupid bench, hitting yourself with the umbrella in the process, “oh my god!” you splashed him again with water in irritation.

oikawa instinctively stepped back and dropped the umbrella, still laughing. you stomped over to hit him on the arm constantly, and he started to back off from you, “baby stop,” he said in a fit of laughter.

he started to run back to be free of your wrath and you ran after him, biting your lower lip to cage in the incoming smile. the both of you made a strange picture right now, two grown adults chasing each other around in the rain.

“come here, oikawa tooru!” you were annoyed at how he could easily dodge your ‘attacks’.

oikawa stopped running away and slowly started walking towards you again, a wide grin on his face, “what my darling wants, she gets,” he states once he was directly in front of you. he caught your wrists before you could hit him again, “are you ready to talk now?”

you took a deep breath, “i am soaking wet from the rain, you made me run around, and it’s still raining and we just looked like total idiots,” you shook your hands, signaling him to let them go and he does. you wrapped your arms around his neck—pulling him closer to you— instead of letting them fall to your sides, which is an action that startled oikawa, “and i don’t know why, but it strangely made me feel better, so yeah, i’m ready to talk now.”

oikawa felt a nice buzz go through his system when you touched him, a sharp intake of breath, “so…?”

“i don’t like feeling like i don’t have the right to call you mine,” he was about to say something but you lifted one of the arms that were wrapped around his neck to use a hand so you could shush him. “it’s childish, and i feel awful that i’m feeling like this. i just wanted some time alone and i also want to point out that you’re not doing anything wrong, it’s just a ‘me’ thing. like i’m getting jealous of alisa and she’s lovely so i feel horrible, and i’m also getting jealous of other people you might have been in similar situations with that isn’t for acting. it’s not because i don’t trust you, i do. it’s just there’s so many people out there, how are you sure i’m the one for you?”

you glanced at his face to check for his reaction, you could tell he wanted to oppose you yet he followed your wishes and was listening to you intently, “i have a lot of problems with my self-esteem, trying to control my emotions, my attitude, and a lot of other not very nice things. i’m trying really hard to be better, for me and for you,” your voice becomes quieter at the end, you clear your throat, “that’s… that’s it.”

“[name]...” oikawa started, “i’m here no matter what, i’d stay no matter what, so i want you to know that i’m going to be beside you, always, whenever you need me.”

“i always need you,” you uttered it so low that oikawa almost didn’t catch it.

it made him melt, you make him feel so wanted and loved, “[name], i’m so in love with you and you’re the only—”

you crash your lips into his, it was so sudden that oikawa was frozen in place. you didn’t care that it was raining or that you were in a park, and this really wasn’t the right time to be confessing and kissing but here you both were. when you were about to pull away, oikawa chases your lips, it was as if he was in a trance. he grips your hips to keep you near and your arms wrapped around his neck pull him even closer. he kisses you with so much fervor and longing, you kiss him back with the same intensity.

it took a lot of willpower to pull away, “that was…” you were panting when you let go of him, oikawa almost immediately missed the warmth your touch gave, “..supposed to be just a peck.”

oikawa was staring at you intently, his eyes held hundreds and thousands of things he wanted to say. how much he adored you, how much he longed to be with you for the past years, how he wanted to tell you that there was never anyone else and there will never be anyone else because you’re the only one for him. no one would ever understand him as much as you do, no one would be able to give him comparable care and affection.

he would only ever yearn for you.

“i want more,” oikawa mumbles before reaching for you again. his hands rose from your hips to cup your face and he kissed you again. he couldn’t get enough of you, as usual.

“tooru i—” you gasp, he swallows your words with his lips. it didn’t take you long to forget about what you were going to say and let yourself get lost in him.

you were lost in each other.

the shutter of a camera was clicked from a distance.

@distanse BREAKING: Actor #OikawaTooru rumored to be romantically linked with an unknown woman, who is she and is our favorite charmer actually taken? Find out More!

masterlist — previous | next

✦ fun facts !

akaashi woke up to a series of messages from oikawa begging him to tell what [name]'s favorite places near campus are and where he would usually see her if she's not at her dorm.

kuroo was invited into another stream of kenma's the night before where they played minecraft and started a roleplay-ish drama with their characters.

tsukki's current favorite song is perfect night by le sserafim (ofc it is he's a fearnot)

bokuto adopted a ladybug today.

nonsense ! an oikawa tooru social media au

synopsis. you were oikawa tooru’s #1 fan, until you became his #1 hater. you hated him so much you went viral on twitter (accidentally) and literally became known as “the oikawa tooru hater”, doesn’t help that he keeps fueling the fire by subtweeting you. everyone is all in for this new drama. what isn’t known to the public, is that this particular drama’s been on hold for three years (him being your ex and all).

a/n — who accidentally writes 6k words?? (this gal !!) anyways happy holidays my darlings !!! i miss u all how r u? (also did you guys spot the taylor swift reference? i couldn't help myself)

taglist is closed ! + (1/2) @kawaii-angelanne @ceneridiankaa @kittycasie @rukia-uchiha-98 @polish-cereal @kellesvt @rockleeisbaeeee @kashxyou @imsoluvly @jjulliette @tooruchiiscribs @littlefreakjulia @gomjohs @qualitygiantshoepsychic @mellowknightcolorfarm @komzumeken @migosple @kuroogguk @sangwooooo @katsu-shi @wolffmaiden @rijhi @2baddies-1porsche @yeehawcity @aishkaaa @crueldinasty @renardiererin @yyuiz @llamakenma @penguinlovestowrite @princelingperfect @hearts4faey @yoonabeo @pantherhappy @julia-1901 @godsbiggestmenace @angel-luv-04 @noideawhothatis @bethbat @natsvmie @luna-mothii @lylovw @apinu @leave-rae-alone @kamikokii @bananasquash @eitaababe @minimari415 @hanabihwa @nilopillo

[ak319]

Oooo hear me out, it's up to you, something inspired by "me and the devil" by soap&skin for platonic arthur and reader?

(AN: Lmfao this is smth else, hope this caught the essence of the song!)

Warnings: Not incest, strictly platonic, fluff

──୨Pre-camp୧──

You’d always been content with the fact that Arthur and your friends hadn’t crossed paths yet. After all, there’s something universally embarrassing about siblings mingling with your friends, especially a brother like him. But today, fate seemed to be laughing at you.

You waited on the porch of Mrs Anne's house with Isla, Faye, and Mavis, caught up in a lively discussion that had everyone too engaged to notice time passing, mostly about what happened in your classes today. Usually, your friends would have left by now, but something had kept the whole group lingering in a close-knit circle.

“Alright, guys, we should really go,” Faye finally said, glancing around. Isla nodded, then smirked at you.

“Oh, right,” she teased. “Forgot you’re waiting for him. Where is he? Late again?”

You clutched your bag, trying to brush it off casually. “He’ll be here soon. You guys can head out if you want.”

Please do, please do, please do-

Before anyone could move, Mavis stretched lazily and patted your arm. “By the way, we’ve never actually seen him. I mean, I haven’t.”

“Trust me, he’s… well, you don’t want to,” Isla added, chuckling with an odd mix of awe and apprehension. “I have, and he’s terrifying, honestly.”

“Is he?" Faye raised an eyebrow at Isla's earlier comment. “I mean, your dad’s not like that. Quite normal, actually, like he’s nice.”

You rolled your eyes. "Isla, he's just a bit...tall that's it. Which to be honest I hate. I mean like how dare he be taller than me! Eugh. Anyway, you guys, he's nice too, much nicer than Dad I would say-"

"But I never saw him smile." God, Isla. She's literally your younger annoying sister who can't shut up, at this point.

"He does smile!"

You could feel Mavis and Faye’s curiosity prickling at Arthur’s character, especially since they had no clue about his line of work. Isla, though, knew enough, which left her more spooked than skeptical. You nudged her with a playful yet pointed elbow, a silent but clear Don’t spill the beans, or I’ll make you spill your teeth. Thankfully, she caught on quickly.

“Yeah, it’s more of a… ‘you had to be there’ situation,” Isla tried to wave it off, though her tone just made things more awkward. Before anyone could respond, a voice drifted over the porch, a voice that could freeze or haunt your dreams.

Arthur had arrived.

“(Y/n)!” Arthur’s voice cut through the chatter, and all four of you turned to see him, perched on his horse, dressed head-to-toe in black. But what really set your teeth on edge was the bullet belt strapped across his chest along with some guns, a blatant display of everything you’d been trying to hide. You glanced back at your friends, who stared in wide-eyed shock as if Arthur had just ridden straight out of a legend, or a nightmare. Isla, though, wore a triumphant smirk, her dramatic warnings about your “scary” brother proven right.

You shot them all a quick, apologetic goodbye before rushing over, and Arthur extended a gloved hand down to help you onto the horse. “Hurry your ass up,” he muttered. His gaze was sharp and impatient, and you climbed up with a sigh, half-irritated and half-resigned.

“Maybe you should try being patient, too,” you shot back, settling in behind him. The horse sprang forward as you waved at your friends over your shoulder, watching their stunned faces disappear into the distance as you and Arthur rode away.

Arthur’s gaze was sharp as he maneuvered the horse down the path, his voice edged with something darker. “Your friends looked like they’d seen death itself when I rode up. Got anything to explain?”

You tried for a casual laugh, but it came out shaky. “Maybe because you showed up looking like you were ready for a showdown, Arthur. You could have been less armed...y'know.?”

He glanced back at you with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Less armed?

“Yeah, you didn’t have to look like you were coming to take me hostage,” you teased, though there was a tinge of nerves in your voice. “You nearly gave poor Mavis a heart attack.”

“Maybe she needs it,” he muttered with a hint of amusement, his hand gripping the reins tighter. “Ain’t my problem if your friends are scared of a bit of leather and metal. And excuse me , for not tryin' to make you wait and rushing here after the job."

You rolled your eyes, but decided to switch gears. “Anyway! Artieee....

Artie = I want something.

"What’s really important is that I’m starving.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t cook nothin’ today,” he said, a hint of exasperation creeping into his tone.

Panic struck, and you scrambled for an excuse. “Well, I did cook even with a terrible headache, but Dad was starving, and he, uh… had some friends over, so they polished off everything.” You added a dramatic sigh for good measure, hoping it’d sell the story.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical but too tired to argue. “Him and his damned pals. You couldn’t save a single bite, huh?”

“Believe me, if I could’ve, I would’ve,” you lied, trying to keep a straight face. Truth is, you did cook and there was still food left for dinner but you were craving something else. Your Dad would definitely side with your lie anyway so why not take advantage of the opportunity.

"So…how about we grab some dinner? Just a little something for your favourite sister?”

Arthur groaned, but you could tell he was caving, being starved himself, “Fine."

You grinned, hugging his back as the horse picked up speed, your stomach already dreaming of food. Knew you’d come through, brother.

⋆⋆⋆

──୨Post-camp୧──

"So what's up with you?" Micah’s voice broke through the quiet, his tone drawn out in that infuriatingly lazy way, like he didn’t care about anything in the world. You kept your focus on the book in your hands, not bothering to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

"I mean, I know it’s only my second visit to the camp and all, but at least the other women talk. You, though..." His voice rose just a little, like he was trying to provoke you.

You didn’t flinch. The page turned, your eyes still scanning the words.

Micah, noticing he wasn’t getting any attention, stepped closer, his boots scraping against the dirt. "Hey! What’s up with all the attitude from you girls around here? I swear, the prettier they are, the more attitude they’ve got."

That was it. You set the book down, slowly, deliberately, and looked up at him with a level stare, the faintest flicker of irritation crossing your face.

"You should go, if you want to keep breathing," you said flatly, voice laced with a coldness that might’ve warned him to stop before things escalated.

He smirked letting out a scoff, clearly not taking you seriously. "Oh really? Why, doll? What’s so special about you?"

You didn’t answer. Instead, you let your gaze shift to the side, barely looking at him as you spoke, "My brother won’t be happy."

Micah blinked, caught off guard. "Brother? Who--"

Before he could finish, a heavy, familiar hand fell on his shoulder, spinning him around with ease. "Me." Arthur’s voice was low, smooth, and cold, a tone that instantly made the air around them feel heavier.

Micah’s face drained of color as he took in the sight of Arthur, standing tall and unwavering, his stare unblinking and intense. The recognition hit him hard, and the cocky grin that had been on his face moments ago faltered, turning into an awkward grimace.

"Oh...right, I see the resemblance now," he stammered, his confidence crumbling beneath Arthur’s unblinking gaze. "Didn’t know... didn't know it was you."

Arthur’s eyes darkened as he took a slow step toward Micah, his presence undeniable and terrifying. “You didn’t know, huh?” His voice was low, dangerous. “Let me make something clear, Micah. If you ever think it’s alright to speak to my sister like that again, you won’t have the chance to be this sorry.”

Micah’s smile faltered as he looked from Arthur’s hard face to yours, clearly realizing just how deep his mistake ran. He hesitated, then muttered, “I didn’t mean any harm, just jokin’ around cowboy, y’know?”

Arthur didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. His grip tightened slightly, and Micah’s hands immediately went up in surrender. “Yeah, you should’ve known better,” Arthur growled, his voice dropping even lower. “I don’t appreciate anyone talking down to my sister or any woman in the camp for that matter. Got it?”

Micah’s breath hitched, and his eyes darted between Arthur and you, his legs wobbling a bit under the pressure of the enforcer’s glare. He took a step back, quickly distancing himself, his earlier bravado long gone. “I, I’ll just go... No harm meant, alright?”

Arthur didn’t speak, only watched him with unwavering intensity, his posture stiff and unyielding, until Micah turned on his heel and hastily retreated, all but running.

Once Micah disappeared into the distance, Arthur exhaled slowly, his gaze now shifting back to you with a slight softening in his demeanor. “You good?”

"Hm. Thanks for that by the way." You answered nonchalantly, already reaching for your book again, satisfied with how things had gone. But before you could dive back into it, Arthur snatched it away from you with a swift motion.

"Wha--"

“Go fuckin’ read in your damn tent,” he snapped.

You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in his mood. “Hey, don’t take your anger out on me too. I didn’t do anything.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed as he looked down at you, still holding the book just out of your reach. “You’re sitting here, reading, like nothing happened.”

"So I just stop existing because... what? Men like him exist?!" You shot back, annoyance flashing in your gaze.

He sighed, clearly over it. "Yeah, yeah, you win the debate, but for now, go. He still has some work left here in the camp. You stay inside. Now stop yapping and go before I-"

You cut him off with a dramatic roll of your eyes, but you didn’t want to test his patience. Grumbling, you stood up and scurried toward your tent, throwing a glare in his direction as you went. Arthur didn’t bother replying, just watching you with an unreadable expression as you ducked inside. You couldn't stop yourself from imagining how he was still standing there, no doubt watching over the camp with that ever-present watchfulness of his.

But deep down, there was a strange comfort in knowing Arthur was there, looking out for you. You couldn’t help but feel grateful for the sense of security his presence brought, even if it came with its moments of irritation.

You were luckier than most women, the ones who had no one to protect them, to guard their well-being when this society felt too harsh. You had never had to face that, not completely.

Your brother could’ve just left you to fend for yourself when both of your parents died. He could’ve given up, and let the weight of responsibility crush him. He could’ve taken the easy route, let you fend for yourself, but he didn’t. He chose to provide, to protect. And that, in itself, was something you could never take for granted.

You smiled softly to yourself as you opened your book again, getting comfy. It wasn’t perfect, your life, and it didn’t come without its complications, but it was yours, and you knew you weren’t alone in it. Arthur’s attempts, and his constant presence, always reminded you that no matter what happened, he would always try. That thought made everything a little easier to bear.

Speaking of....

You were tailing behind Arthur as he checked the items on the list. Just another day buying out supplies when your eyes caught the movement outside the general store’s window. A man was yanking a woman by the arm, his grip forceful, and he struck her hard before pulling her toward a nearby house.

Your heart hammered. “Arthur…”

“Hold on.” He didn’t look up, tossing another can into the basket you held.

“Arthur!” Your voice trembled as you grabbed his arm. “That woman… He’s hitting her. Aren’t you going to do something?”

He finally glanced at you, an irritated look flickering across his face until he saw the worry in your eyes. He followed your gaze out the window, his expression darkening as he took in the scene.

“That bastard’s beating her…” you hissed. “I’ll go to the sheriff if you won’t.” You started to take a step, but Arthur’s hand shot out, gripping your arm like iron.

“Hey, hey! You ain’t runnin’ off to the station,” he growled, his tone as unyielding as his grip. “Calm down.”

“Calm down?” You tried to pull away, anger mixing with shock. “How can you say that when she needs help?!”

The shopkeeper, who had been eavesdropping, chimed in with a lazy shrug. “That’s Carter for you. Mean drunk, that one. Nothing new around here.”

"Arthur," you insisted, voice edged with urgency, "we can’t just stand here and ignore this! You’ve got to do something!”

He looked back at you, his eyes narrowing with frustration mixed with something softer, a concern he rarely showed outright. “And what, exactly, would you have me do? Burst in there? People like him, they’ve got the whole damn town used to their mess. It ain’t as simple as you think.”

You clenched your fists, your heart pounding. “So we just let it happen!?”

Arthur scoffed, glancing down at the basket you held with a resigned shake of his head. "I’m not sayin’ we do nothing. I’m sayin’ we’re not the ones here to play heroes every time some bastard acts up." He looked away, jaw tight. But then suddenly, your dejected face stung something within him. It always does.

"Fine, but let's get this shopping done first."

You bounced impatiently on your heels as Arthur went through the rest of the list, and after what felt like an eternity, he finally loaded up the last of the supplies. He gestured for you to sit in the wagon while he headed off to “handle things.” Minutes later, you watched as the blonde woman stumbled out of the house, her face streaked with tears. You jumped off the wagon and hurried over, helping her onto the seat beside you.

“Don’t worry, your husband will definitely rot in the jai-”

The words barely left your mouth when the sharp crack of gunshots rang out from the house. A moment later, Arthur sprinted out, leaping onto the wagon and snapping the reins with urgency, the horses lurching into a gallop.

“What--what was that?” you stammered, glancing at him in shock. Even the woman had stopped sobbing, her eyes wide as she clung to the edge of the wagon.

Arthur shot you a level look, his tone matter-of-fact. “I did what you asked.”

“I said jail, not… not blowing his brains out!”

“If you think they take in men jus' for that, you still have a lot to learn, and aren't you happy...? That son of a bitch had it comin',” he replied calmly, not sparing you a glance as he kept his gaze on the road ahead.

You fell silent, a part of you taken aback but another part feeling a grudging agreement with his logic. The jail thing was indeed a dumb idea. You do feel happy. "You know what? You’re absolutely right, probably the best thing you ever did,” you murmured, giving a subtle, reassuring smile to the woman sitting beside you. She was still in shock, her hands trembling as she took it all in. You deliberately missed Arthur giving you a dirty look on your comment.

“Um, don’t worry,” you said softly. “You’re safe now. He deserved it.”

The woman’s gaze flickered, her fear giving way to hesitant relief as she managed a weak nod. “Damn right he did,” she added, her voice firm. "I kinda...I always wanted to do that."

You giggled, glancing back at her with a grin. “Today's your lucky day then. What’s your name? Mine’s (Y/N) Morgan and this is my brother, Arthur.”

She took a shuddering breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “K-Karen.”

“Do you have anywhere to go, Miss Karen?” Arthur interjected, his tone gruff but not unkind.

“N-not really,” she mumbled, looking down, her hands twisting in her lap.

Arthur shot you a look that clearly said, You started this. Now what the hell are we supposed to do?

You cleared your throat, searching for the right words. “Um, the thing is, Karen… we, uh, well, we live in a camp where people are… let’s just say, not exactly law-abidin-”

“We’re outlaws,” Arthur cut in, his tone blunt as always.

“O-outlaws?” Karen’s eyes widened, her grip tightening on her skirt.

“Yeah, unfortunately…” you mumbled, casting a sideways glare at Arthur. “And not 'we', I’m not! I’m…just you know....there and normal.”

Karen blinked, her initial shock giving way to an expression of deep thought. Then, to your surprise, a hint of excitement crept into her face, as though she’d stumbled upon something she’d been waiting for her whole life.

“You know… I may not look it, but I’ve got skills,” she said with a newfound confidence, sitting up straighter. “Real skills that could be useful. My old man never liked it, but I’ve learned a thing or two about… pickin’ locks, sneakin’ around, that sort of thing.” She looked between the two of you, her smile growing. “Maybe I could… you know, join you?”

Arthur’s eyebrow arched, clearly taken aback by her enthusiasm. He turned to you, looking somewhere between amused and exasperated. You stifled a grin, giving him a shrug. “Looks like she’s got some outlaw spirit after all, better than whatever life you were living, am I right?” you said, reaching out to pat Karen on the back who nodded wiping her tears.

Arthur rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, “This camp’s turning into a damn circus," earning him a smack from you on the arm.

You couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride as you watched Arthur stand by, his silhouette dark against the fading light of the camp. You’d done something good today, something right. You helped someone, and he had backed you, without hesitation.

As you made your way back to the campfire, the weight of the day's events still hung heavy on you. You could still hear the echoes of the man’s voice, the rage in his eyes. But it didn’t matter now. The woman was safe, and you’d made a difference. More than that, Arthur had made sure of it.

You glanced back over at him, standing tall, looking unfazed by the confrontation. He had that look, stone-faced, like nothing ever rattled him. Yet you knew the truth. Arthur did what needed to be done, for you, for anyone who mattered to him. He’d always had a way of making sure things were taken care of, no matter the cost.

"You did good today," you said quietly, your voice carrying the weight of the unspoken things that lingered between you.

Arthur gave a half-grunt, not really one for praise. His lips curled up in the slightest of smiles, but there was no boastful pride in it. That wasn’t Arthur’s way. "Just doin’ what’s right."

You huffed a soft laugh. "I know. You always do more than what's right. You do what needs to be done." He always does tenfold what you ask of him.

He didn’t argue, didn’t try to deny it. Instead, his gaze flickered to you for a brief moment before he looked away. "You’re the one who had the guts to step in. I just made sure it ended the way it should."

You shook your head, though a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Don’t try to downplay it. You know damn well that if it had been anyone else, they would have just ignored it."

He snorted, his eyes scanning the horizon, ever vigilant, as if nothing could touch him. But you knew better. You knew the weight Arthur carried. You’d seen it, felt it. He wasn’t the same as the others. He was a brother, a friend, a bodyguard, and a killer all in one. Your own personal killer that too free of charge. You chuckled inwardly at the thought. This is something you never imagined even thinking of him in childhood. What a turn life has taken for both of you.

As you sat beside him, watching the fire crackle, the camp settled into a quiet rhythm. You felt proud, not just of yourself, but of Arthur too. He may not have cared for the praise, but you knew the truth, Arthur was the kind of man who would go to hell and back for the people he cared about. Especially you. And for you, that meant everything.

[enemiestolovershoe]

Hiii glad youre feeling better. I would love an angsty enemies to lovers with Noah Sebastian!

Maybe they finally confess their love accidentally during an argument after one too many drinks while on tour.

Unintentional Rivalry

Noah Sebastian x fem!reader

Enemies to Lovers / Band AU

Summary: Y/N has worked with Bad Omens for three years, never getting along with Noah. But one reckless, alcohol-fueled night changes everything.

Words: 5,6k

Warnings: Use of y/n, not proofread, alcohol, shouting and fighting, crying, making out, the other band members watch everything, lmk if i forgot something.

3 years ago

You hadn’t always been a die-hard Bad Omens fan. In fact, your journey to working for the band was purely by chance, the kind of thing that made you believe in fate—or sheer dumb luck. Three years ago, you were just another person looking for a way into the music industry, taking odd jobs here and there. Your friend had been a tour manager for another band when she called you up in a frenzy one day.

"Hey, you’re good with merch stuff, right? Like, sales and all that?"

You’d laughed because you were good—numbers, organization, talking to fans, you nailed it every time. That day, your friend explained how Bad Omens was looking for someone reliable to run their merch stand for the remainder of their tour, and they were desperate. You said yes because why not? A job’s a job.

You showed up the next day, met the crew, and got right to work. It didn’t take long for you to impress Nick Folio, Nicholas Ruffilo, and Jolly. They liked you right off the bat. Folio, always the outgoing one, made a point of befriending you first.

“Hey, merch girl!” he’d shouted from across the venue that first week, a big grin plastered on his face. “You’re killing it over there—fans are going nuts. You’re like the merch stand whisperer.”

You’d snorted at the nickname but accepted the praise. Folio was easy to talk to, always joking around and offering snacks between sets. Ruffilo, on the other hand, was the chill one, the guy who offered you tips on how to organize displays better, like he genuinely cared. And then there was Jolly—quiet but warm, the kind of guy who didn’t talk much but could communicate a thousand words with just a look.

Before long, you weren’t just a “random hire.” You were part of the family.

Everyone… except Noah Sebastian.

From the first day you met him, there had been tension. He’d given you a once-over when you’d arrived, dark eyes full of skepticism, and muttered something like, “Hope you can keep up.”

You were nothing if not stubborn, so you’d bitten back: “Don’t worry. I can handle it.”

That exchange had set the tone for your relationship. Noah always seemed cold, distant, like you’d somehow offended him by existing. You, in turn, found yourself getting increasingly defensive whenever he was around, snapping at his sarcastic comments or rolling your eyes whenever he brushed past you like you were in his way.

But it didn’t matter. You weren’t there to win Noah over; you were there to do your job. And you were good at it.

Present Day

The night after a packed show in some city you’d already forgotten the name of, Folio approached you as you packed up the merch stand.

“You done?” he asked, leaning against the wall with an easy grin, his arms crossed.

“Almost,” you replied, folding up the last few shirts and tossing them into a bin. “Why? Need something?”

“Yeah, you to stop being a hermit,” Folio joked. “We’re hitting up a bar. You should come.”

You glanced at him skeptically. “A bar? After that show? Don’t you guys want to sleep for a week?”

“Nah, it’s not that serious. Just some drinks, some billiards, maybe a little karaoke if I can convince Ruffilo,” Folio said, nudging you with his elbow. “Come on. You work your ass off—come have fun for once.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but smiled. It was hard to say no to Folio, especially when he pulled the whole “you deserve it” card.

“Fine,” you relented, pointing a finger at him. “But if you get me drunk, you’re carrying me back to the bus.”

Folio laughed. “Deal. I’ll even princess-carry you if you want.”

When you walked into the bar with the guys, the atmosphere was lively but not overwhelming. Music played softly in the background, and groups of people were scattered across booths and tables. Folio immediately headed toward the bar, dragging you with him to order drinks, while Jolly and Nicholas found a pool table in the corner.

You settled on a simple drink and found yourself relaxing as you took it all in. It was nice to unwind after weeks of nonstop travel and work.

“Hey, you’re smiling,” Folio teased, nudging your shoulder. “I knew you’d have fun.”

“Calm down. I’ve been here for five minutes,” you shot back, but you were grinning.

A voice cut through your small exchange like a blade: “I’m shocked she even agreed to come out.”

You didn’t have to turn to know who it was. Noah.

You spun on your heel, drink in hand, and fixed him with a glare. He stood a few feet away, dressed in black like always, his dark hair messy and falling into his face. He had that same unreadable look in his eyes, the one that always seemed to irritate you.

“Why wouldn’t I come out?” you challenged, raising a brow. “It’s not like I’m the one who locks himself in the bus after every show.”

Noah smirked, a slow, lazy curve of his lips that only made you want to throw your drink at him. “Yeah? Didn’t think you could stand to be around me that long.”

You scoffed. “Trust me, you’re not that special.”

Folio groaned, stepping between you both with his hands up like a referee. “Okay, okay, can you two not start?” he sighed. “We’re here to have fun, remember?”

You crossed your arms but stayed quiet, shooting Noah one last glare before turning back to the bar.

Noah, however, didn’t walk away. He ordered a drink for himself and leaned against the bar a few feet away from you, like he was challenging you with his very presence.

You ignored him, choosing instead to focus on Folio’s rambling story about something dumb Nicholas had done earlier that day. You tried to act like Noah wasn’t there, but you could feel him. It was like the air shifted whenever he was close—tense, electric, and utterly irritating.

What the hell was his problem with you anyway?

And why did it bother you so much?

The night wore on, and despite Noah’s presence, you found yourself enjoying the evening. Jolly destroyed Nicholas at pool while Folio attempted (and failed) to get someone to join him for karaoke. You stayed near the bar, chatting with Nicholas when he wandered over, the two of you laughing over a drink.

It wasn’t until you turned to grab your jacket that you noticed Noah watching you from across the room. His gaze was unreadable, intense in a way that made you pause for half a second. But before you could react, he looked away, like nothing had happened.

You shook it off.

Noah Sebastian was the last person you needed to worry about.

Or so you told yourself.

You didn’t mean to overdo it. You weren’t even a heavy drinker most of the time. But something about tonight made you want to let loose, to forget about the stress of work, the tension with Noah, and the constant grind of being on the road. Folio was laughing at your flushed cheeks as you waved down the bartender for a another round.

“Whoa there, champ,” Folio teased, nudging you. “Didn’t you say I’d have to carry you back if you got drunk?”

“Still applies,” you shot back with a grin, your words already a little looser than usual. “Better start working out, Folio.”

Nicholas laughed from across the booth, raising his drink in mock salute. “She’s gonna drink us under the table, man. Watch out.”

“I can handle it,” you declared, taking another sip, the alcohol warming your veins. For once, you felt light, unbothered. The tension you usually carried in your shoulders started to melt away.

Even Noah’s occasional glances from the other end of the VIP booth didn’t bother you—at first.

But as the drinks kept coming, and the conversations around the table grew louder, you found yourself growing more aware of him. Every time he said something, you heard it. Every time he shifted in his seat, you noticed. And every time his low laugh rumbled through the air, you hated the way it tugged at your attention.

Why did he always have to be there?

“Alright,” Folio announced, clapping his hands together. “I’m getting another drink. Who’s in?”

“Pass,” Jolly said, leaning back in the booth with a small smile. “I’m too old for this.”

“Ruffilo?”

“Already got one.” Nicholas raised his glass, grinning.

Folio turned to you expectantly. “What about you, heavyweight?”

“Let’s do it,” you said, standing with a little more enthusiasm than necessary.

You followed Folio to the bar, and while you waited for the bartender, you felt a presence beside you.

Of course.

Noah leaned casually against the bar, his dark eyes flicking to you as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “Didn’t think you were the type to cut loose,” he remarked, his tone dripping with that familiar sarcasm.

You rolled your eyes, already feeling your patience thinning. “Didn’t think you were the type to talk to me unless you had to.”

Noah smirked. “Just making an observation.”

“Don’t,” you shot back, turning your attention to the bartender.

But Noah didn’t leave. He stayed there, sipping his drink and watching you with that infuriating, unreadable expression.

“You sure you can handle all those drinks?” he asked after a moment.

You turned to him, your irritation bubbling to the surface. “What is your problem, Noah? Seriously. Do you get some kind of thrill out of bothering me?”

“My problem?” he repeated, his smirk fading. “You think I’m the problem here?”

“Yes, I do,” you snapped. “From day one, you’ve been cold, rude, and completely insufferable. I don’t know what your issue is with me, but I’m done pretending it doesn’t bother me.”

Noah’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. “You think I’m rude? You waltzed in here three years ago like you owned the place, acting like you knew everything, like you deserved to be here.”

“Because I worked my ass off to be here,” you countered, your voice rising. “Unlike you, I wasn’t handed everything on a silver platter.”

Noah’s face twisted, and for a moment, you thought he might actually yell at you. But instead, he leaned in closer, his voice low and cutting. “You don’t know a damn thing about me. And trust me, if anyone didn’t deserve to be here, it’s you.”

Your stomach dropped, the weight of his words hitting harder than you expected. But instead of backing down, you laughed bitterly, the alcohol fueling your courage.

“Wow. You’re such an asshole, Noah,” you said, shaking your head. “I don’t know what I ever did to you, but—”

“Maybe it’s not what you did,” Noah interrupted, his voice sharper now. “Maybe it’s what you are. A fake. A wannabe. Someone who only got this job because their friend pulled strings.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, the noise of the bar seemed to fade.

“What did you just say?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“You heard me,” Noah said, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve been riding everyone else’s coattails since the day you got here. You don’t belong in this world, and you never will.”

“That’s enough,” Folio cut in, stepping between you two with a frown. “What the hell is going on?”

But you barely heard him.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you said, your voice breaking despite your best efforts to hold it together.

“Don’t I?” Noah shot back. “I know enough. I know about your little reputation before you got here. How you burned through jobs like they were nothing. How you—”

“Shut up,” you snapped, your vision blurring as tears threatened to fall. “You don’t know what I went through. You don’t know why—”

“Hey!” Nicholas’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and commanding. “That’s enough, both of you.”

But it was too late. The damage was done.

You couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over as you turned away, shoving past Noah and the others to get out of the booth. You didn’t care where you went—you just needed to get away.

“Shit,” Folio muttered, standing up to follow you. But Nicholas stopped him, shaking his head.

“Let her go,” Nicholas said quietly. Then he turned to Noah, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “What the hell is wrong with you, man?”

Noah didn’t answer. He just stood there, staring after you, his glass forgotten on the table.

The cold air slapped you in the face as you shoved the bar door open, your breath hitching with sobs you couldn’t hold back. Tears streamed down your face, hot against the chill of the night. You stumbled toward the lot, the alcohol finally taking hold and making your vision blur.

But none of that compared to the embarrassment. The anger. The pain.

You knew they’d heard it. You’d seen their faces when you glanced back—Nick’s brow furrowed, Folio looking ready to intervene, Jolly frozen in disbelief. And Noah? He just kept throwing verbal jabs like they weren’t all sitting right there in the booth, listening.

Your chest tightened as you stumbled to the far edge of the lot, far enough away that you couldn’t hear the muffled music leaking out of the bar anymore. You sank onto the cold pavement, wrapping your arms around yourself as the tears came harder, shaking your entire body.

“You don’t belong here. You never will.”

His words echoed in your mind, sharper than any blade. You’d worked so hard to earn your place, and yet, in one drunken argument, Noah had reduced you to nothing. And the rest of the band had heard every. Single. Word.

Your stomach twisted painfully. They probably agreed with him. Maybe they’d always thought you didn’t belong and just never said it out loud.

You pressed your palms to your eyes, trying to stop the onslaught of thoughts, but it was no use. You were too far gone—hurt, humiliated, and drowning in the aftermath of the fight.

The bar door opened again, spilling voices into the quiet night.

“She came this way,” Folio’s voice was loud, clear.

“Do you think she’s okay?” Nicholas‘ tone was softer but laced with concern.

“She’s not okay, Nick,” Jolly said simply. “How could she be after that?”

You bit your lip hard, willing yourself to stay silent as their voices grew closer.

And then, “There she is!”

Folio was the first to reach you, crouching in front of you with a mix of relief and worry on his face. “Hey, Y/N. What are you doing out here? You’re freezing.”

You looked away, trying to wipe at your face. “Go back inside,” you muttered, your voice hoarse. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” he said firmly, his brows drawing together. “What the hell happened back there?”

“I think we all know what happened,” Nick cut in as he and Jolly caught up, standing a few feet away. “The real question is, why the hell did Noah go that far?”

At the sound of Noah’s name, your chest tightened all over again, and fresh tears welled up in your eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Y/N,” Folio said softly, “you don’t have to protect him. We heard everything.”

Your breath hitched, and you turned your face away. “Exactly,” you said bitterly, your voice breaking. “You heard it. All of it. So just… save the lecture. I know what you’re going to say.”

Nick frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“That I don’t belong here,” you snapped, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “That he’s right. That I shouldn’t have been here in the first place—”

“Whoa, whoa, stop,” Folio interrupted, his voice sharp. “You seriously think we feel that way?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” you shot back, your voice cracking. “He clearly does. And maybe he’s right! Maybe I’m just some fraud who got lucky. Maybe—”

“Y/N, stop,” Jolly said, his calm voice cutting through your spiral. “You’re not a fraud. And Noah’s wrong—completely, absolutely wrong.”

You blinked up at him, your vision blurred with tears. “Then why does he hate me so much?”

Folio ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “Honestly? I don’t think he hates you. I think he’s an idiot who doesn’t know how to handle his feelings.”

“Feelings?” you repeated bitterly, shaking your head. “What feelings? He’s made it perfectly clear that he wants nothing to do with me.”

Nick crouched beside Folio, his expression softening. “Noah’s not as tough as he pretends to be. That doesn’t excuse what he said, but… he’s a mess. Always has been.”

Before you could respond, the bar door opened again, and you froze.

Noah.

He walked out slowly, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his shoulders tense. He glanced toward the group, his dark eyes locking with yours for a moment before flicking away.

“Oh, look,” Folio muttered, his tone sharp. “The man of the hour.”

Noah hesitated, his mouth opening like he wanted to say something, but Nick beat him to it.

“Do you even realize what you just did?” Nick snapped, standing and crossing his arms.

“I—”

“No, let me finish,” Nick interrupted, his voice growing louder. “She’s been nothing but good to us—good to you—and you sit there and tear her apart in front of everyone? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Noah’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond.

Jolly shook his head. “We all heard it, Noah. Every word. And you’re lucky she hasn’t told you to fuck off for good.”

“I didn’t mean…” Noah started, but the words faltered. He glanced at you again, his gaze softening. “I didn’t mean to hurt you like that.”

You scoffed, standing up on shaky legs. “Well, congratulations, because you did. And I’m done.”

“Y/N, wait—”

“No,” you said firmly, your voice trembling but steady. “I’m done trying to prove myself to you. If you hate me so much, fine. But don’t pretend you’re sorry now, because I don’t buy it.“ Your legs wouldn’t move, and honestly, you didn’t want them to. Instead, you stood rooted to the spot, staring at the cracked pavement beneath your boots. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides as you fought to control the tears that kept coming, your breath shuddering in the cold.

The silence that followed was heavy, almost suffocating. No one spoke, and no one moved, though you could feel their eyes on you—Folio’s concerned, Nick’s fuming, Jolly’s quietly calculating. And then there was Noah.

You didn’t have to look to know he was still standing there, just a few feet away. You could feel his presence, the weight of his gaze pressing against you. But you didn’t dare lift your head, didn’t dare let him see how broken you felt.

For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of music coming from the bar, and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.

And then, softly, there was the sound of footsteps.

You tensed as they got closer, the familiar weight of a jacket settling on your shoulders. You looked up, startled, as Noah stood in front of you, his face unreadable in the dim light.

“Here,” he said quietly. “You’re freezing.”

You stared at him, confused. His tone wasn’t harsh or dismissive like it had been earlier. If anything, he sounded… apologetic.

“Why do you care?” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Noah didn’t answer right away. Instead, he closed the gap between you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest.

Your breath caught in your throat.

The world seemed to still as he held you, his warmth cutting through the cold that had seeped into your bones. His touch was firm yet careful, as if he was afraid you’d push him away.

The rest of the band froze, their expressions ranging from shock to confusion.

“Uh…” Folio broke the silence, his voice trailing off as he exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Nick.

But no one said anything else. Not yet.

“I’m sorry,” Noah murmured against your hair, his voice so low that only you could hear it. “I didn’t mean what I said. I was drunk and stupid, and I—” He stopped, exhaling shakily. “I fucked up.”

You blinked, your tears still falling but slower now. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to process this sudden shift in him.

“You… you can’t just say sorry and expect everything to be fine,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“I know,” he said quickly, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His hands rested lightly on your arms, his dark gaze softer than you’d ever seen it. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just—I needed you to know that I didn’t mean it. Any of it.”

You stared at him, searching his face for any hint of insincerity. But all you saw was regret.

“Why?” you asked finally, your voice trembling. “Why did you say it?”

Noah swallowed hard, his eyes flicking away for a moment before returning to yours. “Because I’m an idiot,” he admitted. “Because I don’t know how to deal with… with you. You make me feel things I don’t know how to handle, and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

Your breath hitched at his words, your heart pounding in your chest. “Noah…”

“I’m not saying it’s an excuse,” he added quickly. “Because it’s not. I was wrong, and I hurt you, and I hate that I hurt you. But I’m trying to fix it. Please… let me try.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken emotions.

Behind you, Nick cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “Uh, not to interrupt or anything, but… what the hell is going on right now?”

Folio elbowed him hard, muttering, “Shut up, dude.”

Jolly just raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable as he watched the scene unfold.

You glanced over your shoulder at the band, feeling their eyes on you, and suddenly the weight of the moment hit you all over again. “I… I don’t know if I can do this right now,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked up at Noah.

For a moment, his face fell, but he nodded, taking a step back. “That’s okay,” he said softly, his voice laced with a quiet resignation. “I get it. I just wanted you to know I’m sorry. Really, really sorry.”

You stood there, frozen, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t know what to say, what to think. But when he stepped back, the warmth of his presence suddenly fading, something inside you snapped.

Before you could stop yourself, you surged forward, wrapping your arms tightly around him. Your head buried into his chest as you held on, your fingers clutching at his jacket like it was the only thing grounding you.

Noah stiffened for half a second before his arms came around you again, even tighter this time. He cradled you against him, his chin resting lightly on the top of your head. “Y/N…” he murmured, his voice trailing off as he held you.

“I don’t understand you,” you whispered into his chest, your words muffled but raw. “One second you hate me, the next… this. I don’t know what to do.”

Noah pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at you, his hands still resting on your back. His gaze was soft now, all the sharp edges gone, replaced with something warm and vulnerable. “I’ve never hated you,” he said quietly. “Not for a second.”

You looked up at him, your brows furrowing. “That’s not what it felt like.”

“I know,” he admitted, his voice thick with regret. “And that’s on me. I… I didn’t know how to deal with how I felt about you, so I pushed you away. I thought if I kept my distance, if I made it seem like I didn’t care, it would go away. But it didn’t. It never did.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

“I don’t just care about you,” Noah said, his voice soft but steady. “I—God, this is so fucking hard to say.” He let out a shaky laugh, his hands tightening slightly on your back. “I’m in love with you, Y/N. I have been for a long time.”

The world seemed to stop at his words, your breath catching in your throat.

“When you joined the tour, I told myself it was just a crush. That it’d go away,” he continued, his eyes searching yours for any sign of rejection. “But it didn’t. Every time I saw you laughing with Nick, or working your ass off at the merch stand, or just… being you, it only got worse. And it scared the hell out of me.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. “So you… what? Decided to treat me like shit instead?”

Noah winced, his face crumpling. “I know. I’m an idiot. A coward. I thought it’d be easier to push you away than to risk feeling something I couldn’t control. But I was wrong. So fucking wrong.”

The vulnerability in his voice, the raw emotion in his eyes—it broke down the walls you’d built to protect yourself.

“Noah,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “Why didn’t you just… tell me?”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Because I thought you hated me. I mean, I gave you every reason to. Hell, I deserved it. But I couldn’t stop myself. I kept thinking if I just pushed hard enough, I’d convince myself that I didn’t care. That it didn’t matter.”

“But it did,” you whispered, the weight of his confession settling over you.

“It always mattered,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “And I know I’ve ruined this, that you probably don’t feel the same way, but I had to tell you. I had to try. Because the thought of losing you for good? It’s worse than anything else I’ve ever felt.”

Your chest tightened as his words sank in, every bit of anger and confusion dissolving under the weight of his sincerity.

“I thought you hated me,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “This whole time, I thought you hated me.”

Noah’s face crumpled further, his eyes glistening. “I could never hate you, Y/N. Not even if I tried. And believe me, I tried.”

A watery laugh escaped you, and you shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks again. “You’re so fucking stupid,” you said, but there was no venom in your voice—only a soft disbelief.

“I know,” he said, a faint, self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. “The stupidest.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, the world around you fading away. And then, slowly, you reached up, your hands resting on his chest. “You’re an idiot,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “But… I think I’m in love with you, too.”

Noah’s breath hitched, his eyes widening as he searched your face for any hint of doubt. “You… you mean that?”

You nodded, your heart pounding. “I mean it. And I hate how long it took for us to get here, but… yeah. I love you, Noah.”

He let out a shaky laugh, his forehead dropping to yours. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

“Well, now you know,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the tears still lingering in your eyes.

Noah smiled, too, his hands cradling your face gently. “I’m going to make it up to you,” he said firmly. “For all of it. For everything I said, everything I did. I’m going to make sure you never feel like you don’t belong again. You belong, Y/N. With the band. With me. Always.”

Your chest swelled at his words, and for the first time that night, the cold didn’t feel so overwhelming.

“Don’t screw it up,” you whispered, your lips twitching into a teasing smile.

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice soft but steady. “Not ever again.” The world narrowed to just the two of you. The warmth of Noah’s hands cupping your face, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch—it was like nothing else mattered. But as you stood there, the quiet around you began to sink in.

You weren’t alone.

Slowly, you glanced over Noah’s shoulder, and sure enough, the band was still there. Nick stood with his arms crossed, one eyebrow arched in confusion. Folio had a barely-contained grin stretching across his face, while Jolly’s stoic expression betrayed just the slightest hint of amusement.

“Well, this is… unexpected,” Nick said, breaking the silence with his usual dry humor. “Do you guys need a private moment, or should we start charging admission for this?”

“Shut up, Nick,” Noah shot back, though his tone lacked its usual bite. His hands dropped from your face, but he didn’t move away, his body still angled protectively toward you.

“I mean, don’t stop on our account,” Folio chimed in, a wide grin plastered across his face. “This is better than any soap opera I’ve ever seen.”

Your cheeks burned, and you ducked your head, biting back an embarrassed laugh. But before you could say anything, Noah’s hand found yours, his fingers lacing through yours with a firmness that made your heart skip.

“Alright, enough,” Noah said, his voice firm but not harsh. “This is between me and Y/N.”

“Sure it is,” Nick said with a smirk, clearly enjoying the moment. “But in case you forgot, we’ve been standing here for, oh, I don’t know, the entire time.”

Jolly finally spoke up, his voice calm but tinged with humor. “So… does this mean the rivalry is officially over?”

You laughed despite yourself, the sound breaking some of the tension. “I guess you could say that,” you said, glancing up at Noah.

“Yeah,” Noah agreed, his eyes soft as they met yours. “No more rivalry.”

Nick groaned, throwing his hands up. “Great. Just great. Now what am I supposed to make fun of during the tour?”

“Don’t worry, Nick,” Folio said with a laugh. “I’m sure they’ll give us plenty of new material.”

Before you could respond, Noah leaned down, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gesture so tender it made your heart ache.

“I mean it,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “I’m going to make this work. You and me. No more bullshit.”

You nodded, your chest tightening. “Me too,” you whispered.

Noah smiled, the kind of smile that made your knees feel weak, and then, without any warning, he leaned in and kissed you.

At first, it was soft, sweet, and tentative, as if he was still testing the waters. But the moment your hands found their way to his jacket, tugging him closer, it deepened. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him as the kiss grew more intense, more urgent.

The world faded again, the sounds of the bar and the cold night air melting into the background. All you could feel was him—his warmth, his strength, the way his lips moved against yours like he’d been waiting for this moment as long as you had.

“Okay, seriously, what the hell is happening right now?” Nick’s voice cut through the haze, dragging you both back to reality.

You pulled away, breathless, your face flushing as you turned to see the band staring at you like they’d just witnessed something out of a rom-com.

“This is happening,” Noah said firmly, his arm still around you as he shot Nick a look. “So get used to it.”

Folio laughed, clapping his hands together. “I can’t believe this. I mean, I can, but still. This is wild.”

Jolly just nodded, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “About time,” he said simply.

Nick groaned again, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. I’m going to need a minute to process this.”

“You’ll live,” Noah said, rolling his eyes before looking back down at you. His expression softened instantly, the intensity from before replaced with a quiet, almost shy tenderness. “You okay?”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Good,” he said, his voice low. “Because I’m not letting this go. Not now, not ever.”

Folio pretended to gag, earning a glare from Noah and a laugh from you.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Nick said, already heading toward the bus. “Let’s get out of here before someone calls the cops on us for public indecency.”

As the band started to walk off, Noah turned back to you, his hand still intertwined with yours. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice soft but serious.

You squeezed his hand, meeting his gaze with a newfound confidence. “I’m sure,” you said. “No more running. No more pretending.”

Noah’s smile was radiant, and for the first time, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Together.

[14muffinz]

destiny sets itself right

Timelines have key events, events that tend to carry over between realities even if the exact details are lost. The connection of it always lingers, tying the world's puppets to their roles and letting the rotating cast of background characters fill as needed.

Danyal, or Daniel, or whatever they were called in whatever world, was always destined to be or know a halfa. His fate has always been and will always be intertwined with the infinite realms, and while the knowledge of his connection would be a heavy burden never to be placed upon the boy's shoulders, it remained true nonetheless.

Destiny realises that this version of Danyal has no connection to the Realms, no way of accessing it and no way of dying on the other side. It nudges things along to combat this, until the day comes that a 9-year-old's body is dumped into the Lazarus waters and is not seen coming out.

Not being seen does not mean much for a ghost or halfa. Overcome by the madness that tends to overtake you when dunked into a pool of tainted ectoplasm with only the watching eyes of some silent and minor dieties keeping him stable, Danyal hadn't been aware of where he'd been heading until he was lost inside a forest, across the world from his ancestral home.

When Jazz Fenton comes across a boy on a camping trip, she doesn't know he's a halfa. When Maddie and Jack Fenton adopt the boy, they do not know he's a halfa. When Sam Manson and Tucker Foley befriend the boy, they do not know he's a halfa.

Once the Fenton Portal starts working, no missplaced on-button to be found, this changes many things.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Jake Kim x Reader: Cinema

G/N. Soft and fluffy feat Big Deal a lil.

 "You on a date, boss?"

Jake says yes without missing a beat, flashing you a grin and snaking his arm around your waist.

He sees the smirk on Jason's face, the light nudge Lineman gives Brad, and the pride and approval on Jerry's face.

The grin soon melts away though, when Brad follows up with "You going to see Rocky XX too?" and Jake only just manages to hide his grimace.

The answer to that is also yes. But he would prefer to not have a date crashed by the rest of the crew.

Heavens above, you're patient enough with Big Deal and so sweet to everyone. Gotten to know the street and the occupants like the back of your hand, spending more evenings and weekends there than not. 

However. Even with how much Jake lives and breathes Big Deal, he misses some one on one time with you.

Away from everyone, he thinks as he takes in the sight of his boys in front of him. He can't exactly tell them to go away though, can he? A rare weekend off work where they get to just be.

He succumbs to his fate. 

Imagines everyone huddled on the one row together. Seated next to each other. Cosy. A family affair instead of a romantic date. Probably won't be able to sneak you some kisses here and there-

"We're not seeing Rocky!" comes the unmistakable sound of Lua's voice. "We're going to watch The Boy and The Pigeon! Enjoy your film!"

She disappears as quickly as she arrives. A whirlwind of hair and a force of nature. Giving you both a small wave, mind laser focused on reading the goddamn room and shoving the boys towards a different screen.

"B-but we already got the tickets!"

"I wanted to see Rocky XX!"

"Why does Jake think seeing Rocky is romantic anyway?!"

Why?

To be honest, the Rocky franchise died off somewhere along V. Who knows how the hell these films are still being greenlit. Nevertheless, the newest one is a low stakes film where Jake doesn't care what happens apart from you cuddling up to him and some kisses if he's lucky.

It's calculated and planned and Jake mentally pats himself on the back for how things have turned out.

Except-

What he didn't expect was the score to be good, the script to be great, the choreography to be amazing, and the acting to be even better. Neither of you could take your eyes off the screen. You laughed and cried and gasped together. 

Thoughts of cuddling and kissing and even making out completely out the window as you're both on the edge of your seat for the entire two hours.

It was fantastic. Perhaps the best movie he has ever seen (and he could practice some of those moves too).

You're both still talking about it as he walks you home-

"When he came back as a zombie to fight that vampire?"

"And the lizard joins the fight to win the title?" Jake chuckles, at your enthusiasm more than anything else, "Yeah. I liked that."

But as your apartment appears on the horizon, he can't help but think that maybe this was a bit of a waste. That the day is over and as good as the film was, maybe he should have arranged something else, after all it’s been a while since both your schedules have aligned.  A date where you can actually talk and be in each other's company. Instead of being captivated by the screen, your attention could have been held by him.

Jake tries to shake off the doubts and recapture the lighter mood from seconds ago.

He's not entirely successful.

You realise something is amiss.

You peer over at your boyfriend. His sudden subduedness. The small line forming between his eyebrows that you hate so much, because it means he's unhappy about something. You pause mid step and he stops alongside you.

"Don’t overthink it. I had fun," you tell him. You always have fun with him. "Thank you."

Jake's smile returns when he sees the expectant look in your eyes. The way you stretch up towards him. press yourself into his space, and he leans down; meeting you halfway.

Your lips lightly press to his, eyes closing, eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks and his own falling shut. Strong arms encircle you, pulling you ever closer, deepening the contact.

There'll be a next time, your kiss reassures him.

You tastes like popcorn. Sugar and butter and salt. Sweet and savoury and perfect.

[differenteagletragedy]

No thoughts, just Our Life Swap AU.

A couple of days ago someone requested a swap AU in which Baxter is MC's neighbor, Cove is the friend who lives in the city and Derek is the boy who stays for the summer and I have not been the same since.

Here is the first thing I wrote about it, and here is another!

"Do you know what RV stands for?"

"Yes, Baxter."

"I believe you may think you do -- a common misunderstanding is that it stands for 'recreational vehicle.' In reality --"

"Shut it, little boy," Liz called down from the loft.

You smiled at Baxter, and he returned it. You were in an RV that your moms had rented, headed for a quick camping trip to Redwood National Park. You and your best friend were sitting on the couch in the little living area of the vehicle while your moms were up front, taking turns driving.

Baxter had been making up stories to pass the time, and it seemed that Liz had heard one too many.

"My apologies, Elizabeth," he called up to her. "I forgot you don't care for whimsy or fun anymore."

"Why are you even here?" she replied.

He had been in good spirits, chatting away, but that seemed to have brought him down. He shot a quick smile at you, then looked away.

Your parents had invited him along -- after five years of the two of you being nearly inseparable, he was often invited to family outings. Your moms always made sure to include him too because his own parents weren't the kindest people.

At first, Baxter's parents had refused. They didn't like your moms, for some reason you'd never been able to figure out. Luckily, a business trip came up for his father and they decided to give in to his relentless requests to accompany you, knowing that their only child could make things difficult if he wanted. It was easier for them not to deal with him on the trip.

Their loss, you thought.

Before he could get too lost in thought, you leaned over and nudged his shoulder. He nudged you back, a smirk reappearing.

"Don't mind Liz," you told him quietly. "You're here because you belong here."

His smirk turned into a full-on beam.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

That night, you'd arrived to your camping spot at the park, but it was too dark to explore. But the next morning, bright and early, the five of you went out to see the sights.

Your moms led the easy hike on one of the trails, and Liz wandered behind them. You and Baxter brought up the rear.

"This is amazing," he said in genuine awe, looking up at the trees. Every once in a while, he would pull his attention away from the scenery to look at you warmly.

"Was it like this in your old town?" you asked. You knew he'd lived in Oregon before moving to Sunset Bird, and he'd talked about missing the trees.

"No, not quite," he answered. "There were forests, but nothing like this."

Before you could say anything else, Liz fell back to walk in line with you. You gave a preemptive eyeroll.

"Is this up to your standards, rich boy?" she teased.

"I'm having a very nice time," he replied. And it was true -- too nice a time to start his usual bickering with your sister.

"Good," she said. "Because once you officially join the family, this is the kind of sickening wholesomeness you're in for."

"I could think of worse fates," he told her, shooting you a glance.

You'd been nursing a crush on Baxter for a while now, and comments like that made you think sometimes that he had a crush on you, too. It was almost enough to make you say something, but your sister's teasing would really turn relentless then.

Liz hung back, teasing you for a while longer before getting bored and going back up to your moms. After a few hours, with a lunch break tossed in, the hike was over and you were back at the RV.

Your sister promptly went inside and shut the door behind her. Your moms laughed, but then Baxter approached them.

"I was wondering if it would be all right if we went on another short walk," he said, looking back at you. "Not too far, and I'll be sure we're back well before dark."

They had a moment of silent communication, then you saw your ma give a slight nod.

"All right, but not too far," Mom said. "And stay on the trail."

"Absolutely," Baxter said. He held his arm out to you, and you took it. Then you were off.

"Why did you want to come back out?" you asked, trying to sound casual even though you were buzzing with excitement. You tried to keep the hand that held onto his arm steady.

"I thought it was too nice of a day to end so quickly," he said. "I wanted more time out here. More time with you."

You blushed, and he smiled fondly at you.

"Why do you say stuff like that?" you asked before you could reconsider.

"Why wouldn't I?" He seemed genuinely confused. "It's lovely here. You're a lovely person." He leaned closer to your ear and said, "My favorite person, actually."

Your cheeks grew hotter.

Baxter laughed, then said, "You're also adorable."

It was a little forward, even for him, so you decided to take the opportunity to bring up something you'd been wondering about for a while.

"Can I ask you something?" you began.

"Always."

"Why haven't you dated anyone?"

He didn't say anything right away, and you didn't have the nerve to look at him. But out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw his own cheeks turning pink.

"I was just wondering," you added, "since you sort of flirt with everybody all the time."

"Do I?" he asked with a laugh. You did give him a look then, and he said, "I don't actually, you know. Not at school."

"Really?"

"Really."

It was your turn to pause. He went to a private school while you went to the public one, but you'd just assumed he was the same way with everyone else that he was with you.

"I'm polite," he explained. "I try to be friendly. I can't help being a little bold. But I don't ... you're the only one who gets this version of me."

You were trying to figure out how to respond, but nothing came. Your thoughts were racing with this new revelation, and before you could say anything, he stopped.

"It'll be getting dark soon," he said. "Time to go."

Baxter turned around, making a show out of offering you his other arm, and you laughed as you took it. Perhaps sensing the tailspin he'd put you in, he went back to joking around for the rest of the walk back to the campsite.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After a fun evening with your family around the campfire, it was time for bed. Your moms went back to the bedroom, Liz stretched out on the couch and Baxter spread out his sleeping bag on the floor while you climbed up in the loft.

You tried to go to sleep, but your thoughts were still racing over everything Baxter had said. After a while, when you heard Liz's soft snores get into a steady rhythm, you peeked over the edge of the loft to see what your friend was doing.

You knew he was a night owl, and so you weren't surprised to see him lying on his stomach, reading a book he'd brought with him in the bright moonlight that filtered in through the windows. But you didn't expect him to look up at you just as you'd started watching him.

"Go to sleep," he mouthed at you, grinning.

"You first," you mouthed back.

He gracefully pulled himself out of his sleeping bag and slinked over to the ladder to the loft. He climbed it so that he was eye level with you, and said, "Can't sleep?"

"Doesn't seem so."

"Would you like some company?"

You gave him a confused look. He smiled softly and told you, "I'll tell you a bedtime story."

Intrigued, you scooted back against the wall, making room for him. He climbed under the blankets, laid out on his side, folding his arm under his head for a pillow, and started telling his story.

It was complete nonsense, as most of his stories were. There was something about mountain lions, and Bigfoot made an appearance. But as he went on, trying his best to make you laugh, he kept inching closer to you. A few times you were bold enough to do the same, and by the end you were pressed close.

"Can you sleep now?" he asked, his face just inches from yours.

"I can try."

[hrefna-the-raven]

Hot as Hades

Misc. Masterlist - Masterlist

Chapter 1

Words: 1939

Summary: the fate of yours and Hades' is bound but the Fates advise caution while Aphrodite is meddling in the Lord of the dead's affairs

Chapter 2 - Prophecy

Hades rushed down the steps, seething with anger towards Pain and Panic for neglecting to inform him of the Fates' arrival. The most important inhabitants of the underworld, aside from himself of course, were waiting for him and his good for nothing imps were too busy with hell knows what to even tell him. They had one task, just one damned task. Hades pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath before swinging open the doors.

"Ladies. Hah. I am so sorry that I'm...", he began, attempting to apologise, but the Fates cut him off.

"Late", they finished in unison.

"We knew you would be", Lachesis chuckled.

"We know everything", Clotho proudly stated.

"Past."

"Present."

"And future", Atropos added, nudging Pain, "indoor plumbing. It's gonna be big."

"Right, anyway ladies, I was at this picnic kinda thing and I lost all track and wanted to ask abou-", Hades tried to explain, only to be interrupted once again by the Fates.

"We know!"

His hair momentarily flared up in a deep red before returning to its usual blue flames as he took a series of deep breaths, attempting to regain his composure. He knew that losing his temper in front of the Fates would be counterproductive, despite how frustrating they could be to deal with. However, Aphrodite's words continued to swirl in his mind, leaving him wondering if there was any truth behind her teasing remark.

"I KNOW, you know. Anyway, Aphrodite... Ms. Lovey Dovey, Ms. "Hey I always know when someone's in love", now she has told-"

"About the mortal being in love with you. WE KNOW!", the Fates interrupted him yet again.

Hades couldn't help but slam his hand against his face in exasperation, a painful reminder to himself to maintain his calm and charm.

"I KNOW YOU KNOW! I got it, I got the concept!", he clenched his teeth, forcefully contorting the twitching corners of his mouth into a distorted smile, "so let me just ask. Is Aphrodite telling the truth about that mortal? Will she love me back? What do you think?"

Clotho released a sorrowful sigh, parting her lips, but before any words could escape, Lachesis seized the edge of her robe and swiftly turned her around.

"We're not supposed to reveal the future!", she reminded her sister, fixing a stern gaze upon her, despite the absence of an eyeball.

It didn't go unnoticed by Hades that a disagreement was brewing between the Fates. He found himself in the perfect position to extract information from them, all it would take was a touch of his usual charm and he would attain his answers.

"Ladies ladies", his voice was smooth and alluring, "time out, please. Can I ask you a question by the way? Did you cut your hair or something? You look fabulous, like a fate worse than death."

His slender fingers gently touched a strain of her hair, which popped out and wound its way along his arm like a poisonous snake, ready to strike. Hades' expression briefly contorted into disgust before he regained his composure and tucked the hair back into its rightful place. Clotho couldn't contain her giggles, resembling an infatuated teenager, prompting Lachesis to nudge her in the side, causing their shared eye to pop out and roll towards Hades. He swiftly retrieved it, plucking a hair from it before gently taking hold of Lachesis' hand and placing the eyeball on her palm.

"Ladies, please", he purred with a seductive voice, "my fate is in your lovely hands."

Lachesis and Clotho looked at each other, sighs of awe leaving their lips.

"Alright", Atropos grumbled, taking hold of the eye and letting it hover among the other Fates before transforming it into a radiant dark blue sphere.

"In 18 nights precisely, the hearts will align ever so nicely. The time to act will be at hand, free your aching heart, bodies to bend."

"Mmm-hmm. Good, good", Hades chuckled, a blush creeping up his cheeks as he attempted to push sudden thoughts of your naked form out of his mind.

"The once lonely receives all and her heart be yours to call!"

His heart skipped a beat. After eons of torment from his lonely, aching heart, trapped in the desolation of the demanding underworld, he caught a glimpse of a flickering light—a small flame ignited by a glimmer of hope deep within him.

"But a word of caution to this tale", the Fates' tone darkened.

And there it was, the usual punch in the face, the cruel reality swirling around him, teasing him with the notion that all the beauty and happiness in the world was meant for every god except himself.

"Excuse me?", Hades spoke, his voice cracking with sorrow.

"Should Zeus deny, love will fail.", the Fates cackled before disappearing.

The Lord of the Underworld screamed, his furious roar echoing through the realms of darkness like a wave of scorching flames from the depths of hell, threatening to consume and obliterate everything in its path. His fists pounded against the table in the chamber before he hurled it against the wall, the stone shattering into countless fragments as the sound of his frantic breath filled the room, while Panic and Pain slipped away silently, hoping to avoid being maimed.

You finished work, helping your boss cleaning up before you headed home. Daily life had become more bearable since that night with Hades. With a joyful tune on your lips, you happily skipped through the streets towards your humble abode. As you collapsed onto your bed, a gentle sigh escaped your mouth, your mind filled with thoughts of when it would be fitting to reach out to the god once again. You yearned for his presence and the ache you felt in your belly while laughing at his silly puns.

"Thinking about the Lord of the Gloomy and Grumpy?", someone chuckled.

You jumped up from your bed and turned towards the voice, its origin being the most beautiful woman you've ever laid eyes on.

"Are-are-are you?", you stammered as every muscle on your body tensed.

"Aphrodite, goddess of love and desperately needed in this household", she smiled warmly at you.

"Do you?", your hands waved around, unsure what or how to ask.

"Know about the blooming love between you and the Lord of the dead? Of course my dear and I dare say that I wasn't even involved in all this. He fell for you loooong ago on his own. Whoops!", the goddess threw her hands up and laughed, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, "shouldn't have said that."

You blinked in disbelief at the goddess' statement. Could it be that Hades felt the same way? That you actually charmed a god? Capturing his immortal heart even before you met him? It felt surreal, your head was spinning at the speed of light, different thoughts pestering your mind while a thousand questions whirled around demanding answers and all while your heart seemed to beat so fast that it almost felt painful.

"Poor little mortal", with an air of amusement, she paced around you, her voice dripping with curiosity, "but I'm not surprised, Hades is one of kind, thankfully, I think everyone on Olympus would scream if there were more like him."

"What will happen now?", you hesitantly asked.

"You two are linked by fate, my sweet little mortal", the godess whispered in your ear, "but only the Fates can tell what fate was, will be or will become."

A surge of emotions swirled within you - excitement, anticipation and a tinge of fear. Your lips parted to pose more questions but Aphrodite had already vanished, leaving only a faint trace of her delicate fragrance behind. It felt as though you were running in circles, every new piece of information throwing you back to the exact same spot you had started from. Unable to find solace in this confusion, you resolved to seek answers from the only god you felt comfortable talking to, so, the next day after work, you made your way back to the shrine in the forest.

Unbeknownst to you, Hades had been expecting your arrival, his piercing eyes watching you from the underworld. He paced around in the throne room, cursing at Aphrodite's involvement. The revelations from the Fates had deeply unsettled him, he now also had the goddess of love meddling in his affairs, as if his situation wouldn't have been bad enough. He didn't know of what exactly and how he had to convince his brother to prevent a tragedy from happening, but he was determined to find a solution in due course. He possessed a certain resourcefulness and would not allow his brother to ruin his life any further. But that would be for another day, one absurdity at the time. For now, he had to devise a plan to counter any inquiries about his...what did mortals call them again? Ah, yes, feelings. He intended to conceal his emotions for as long as possible.

As he frantically sought a solution, his train of thought was interrupted by the faint whispers of your prayer. A defeated sigh escaped his lips, and he materialised beside you.

"You heard that sound? It was the sound of your little prayer fluttering all the way down into my realm and babe, you wished for it and baboom, here I am", he exclaimed, a smug grin hiding his nervousness, wiggling his eyebrows.

"So", you mumbled, avoiding his gaze while nervously shuffling your feet on the ground, "Aphrodite..."

"Yeeeeah I know I know", Hades said, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes darted between you and the ground.

"Is it...?", the question lingered unspoken for a moment.

"True? I would guess so", he sighed.

"So what...uhm...now?"

"We dance, we kiss, we schmooze, we carry on, we go home happy. If you want to of course, unlike my dear brother, Mr. High and Mighty, I'd actually prefer if we were on the same page for those kinda things."

You chuckled at that, feeling your heart flutter at the prospect of a date with the Lord of the dead.

As you locked eyes with him, you noticed a flicker of vulnerability hidden behind his typically stoic expression - a mix of affection and apprehension. It occurred to you for the first time that even a god like Hades might be plagued by insecurities. After all, living under the weight of a notorious reputation for eternity, while the other gods lived their best life on Olympus, didn't leave much room for love. Perhaps he had even given up on it altogether, until you wiggled your way into his immortal existence. He grasped your hands, intertwining them and raising them towards his lips, where he planted a gentle kiss. The sensation elicited a soft sigh from you, his unnaturally warm lips against your skin sending a delightful, tingling feeling throughout your body. A blush crept up to your cheeks as your gaze remained fixated on his thumb, softly caressing your flesh.

"The full-time job my brother so charitably bestowed upon me is waiting. I'd really love to stay but I can't. I'll pick you up tomorrow night for a proper date. Be here at sunset."

With those words, he vanished, leaving behind a faint trace of smoke. A real date with a real god...tomorrow...you internally screamed of joy, trying to keep a stoic expression, just in case he'd be watching. You strolled back home, thoughts racing around what he could possibly come up with for tomorrow evening and what a mere mortal like you could wear to impress the Lord of the dead.

Chapter 3

[yes-i-write-fanfiction]

Can the tfa bots and elite guard react to Optimus and sentinel sparkling beans becoming best friends and Optimus and sentinel force to do play dates for their sparklings

-Optimus is happy that his kid is making friends and he's got nothing against the other sparkling personally. It's just that... it's so, so awkward to hang out with Sentinel while the two sparklings are playing. At first, he tries to keep a civil conversation but it always devolves into bickering and snide remarks. So Optimus decides to just ignore Sentinel instead, settling for watching the sparklings play instead. It's still awkward, the tense silence between them, the words left unsaid and the stolen glances at one another. But as long as his sparkling is happy then Optimus will bear with it. Even if he so badly wants to punch Sentinel in his stupid chin at times. No, Optimus, think of the children, you can scream into the void later.

-Does Ratchet feel sympathy for Optimus? Yes. But does he also think it's funny? Yes. The universe sure does have an ironic sense of humor sometimes. He's also happy to see that for once, Sentinel can put his own feelings and massive ego aside for the sake of someone else.

-Bumblebee may or may not burst out cackling when he first sees the two sparkling happily play together. Then he sees the morose expressions of both Sentinel and Optimus and he laughs even harder. He loves watching the sparklings play and 100% encourages them to hang out as often as possible. Also encourages them to play in the dirt so that Sentinel has to clean his kid later.

-Oh, Bulkhead thinks that it's just delightful that the sparklings don't yield to the tense situation between their respective parents influence their friendship. Encourages them to be nice to one another and happily lends them his paint and art supplies in case they want to draw.

-Prowl finds it amusing that amusing that despite all odds, these sparklings are just the best of friends. He privately talks to Optimus and tells him that despite his relationship with Sentinel, he is a good parent for allowing his sparkling to make friends on their own.

-It's a good thing for autobots to be close and trust one another, that's what Ultra Magnus thinks. Yes, the sparklings are still young and have yet to officially join the autobot ranks but as the respective offspring to two autobots (one being an Elite Guard) it's all but a certainty that they will one day join the cause. So it's good that they get along. He commends both Sentinel and Optimus for their parenting.

-Sentinel... Sentinel is not happy. Look, he loves his kid. Adores them! That's his little champ, Sentinel Jr.! Of course they're popular and making friends! But... why, of all sparklings, why did it have to be Optimus' kid? He won't actively discourage his sparkling from playing with them but he will try to nudge them towards other kids. You know, someone they have more in common with! Please? No? Fine. Go hang out with, ugh, Optimus' kid. Yes, yes, have fun. Yes, he loves you too. Now go play while Creator, uuuugh, stays with Mr. Optimus. Why is parenting so hard?

-Jazz thinks it must have been fate for these kids to be friends. They just get along so well, complete each other, really. To have found and befriended one another, despite Optimus' and Sentinel's history, yeah, that's one hell of a friendship. Jazz just knows that these two fill be pals for the rest of life.

-Honestly, Jetfire and Jetstorm just thinks it's funny. Look at Optimus' and Sentinel's faces! So funny! And they both have to act nice when their kids are there so the Jettwins can goof off as well, which is just an added plus. They like to play with the sparklings, encouraging them to act silly together.

[boneblushed]

But on a Wednesday, in a cafe

muggle!au, James x fem!reader, I’m going through a really tough break up right now so writing this = therapy

I’ve been spending the last eight months / Thinking all love ever does / Is break, and burn, and end

Perhaps you should be used to it by now, this never-ending chasm of pain that begins and ends at the base of your ribcage.

It’s a deep, aching hurt, the kind that promises to linger until you’re forced to surrender. A draught of cool air pulls through your chest, alerting you to the tired heart squeezed within it. Every time you think about him—about the life you shared—it breaks and splinters, rocketing another of its shards into the surrounding structures. A dreadful pang.

Who knew love could hurt this much?

It’s taken a while for your heart to look the way it does. A few weeks ago, it was held within your shaking palms, wrung through with desperation as you begged him to return. Here… take it, please? It belongs to you… it’ll always be yours.

Prior to that, when the aching wounds were still fresh, you wove bandages from hopeful ignorance, fastened them with blind faith. No, love couldn’t possibly be as fickle as he was making it out to be; you couldn’t let yourself believe it was, you’d simply have to bide your time until he came to his senses.

Until he told you how wrong he was, how much he didn’t mean any of it. Of course I didn’t fall out of love with you, of course that can’t just happen; I love you, I’m sorry, forgive me?

And pathetic as your broken heart is, you would be ready to do so, no matter the stakes.

It makes you stomach roil as you think back on it now — the power he had over you, how callously he wielded it every time you spoke. Has. Present tense. The fissure deepens.

It’s terrifying, how quickly your world can shrink into nothingness. Once upon a time, you’d considered him your soul-mate—your person—and now it’s as though the pair of you are strangers, even less than.

It’s true what they say, indifference pierces deeper than hatred. After all that you’ve been through with him, all that you’ve shared, how are you supposed to simply move on and find love elsewhere?

The cobblestone path you walk along is well versed with your rumination. A quilt of autumn foliage crunches underfoot, a petrichor rich scent present in the air. Every shop window you pass boasts Thanksgiving deals that you ‘just don’t want to miss!’; it’s nauseating as much as it is heart-breaking, having to do the holidays without him for the first time in six years.

It’s probably pity more than it is fate that leads you to the new cafe in Godric’s Hollow — you’ve shed far too many tears for the Universe to bear, plagued with motion sickness from how quickly your sadness turns yearning again.

You miss him. It’s right there in your eyes, how much you miss him. James’ on barista duty whilst his colleague Remus mans the register; the latter may discern the melancholy in your features, but it’s James who recognises the exact significance of it.

He’s been through it before, you see, with Lily Evans. His gaze softens, dappled brown eyes falling over you in paces, and he wracks his brains for things he’d have wanted when he was going through the worst of it.

Except, the one thing he wanted no one could realistically give him — Lily. Who’s your mystery boy? Is it truly as over as your eyes say it is?

“Uh, hey,” you greet. Your voice doesn’t crack as much as it’s barely loud enough to register.

“Hey,” Remus responds, sending you a small smile. Playing it cool whilst his knee nudges James’ under the counter. “What can I get for you?”

“Just an iced latte please,” you answer. “With oat milk, if you have it.”

Remus punches in your order as you reach for your wallet. The cappuccino James’ making overflows.

“Shit!” He curses, jerking back his hand hastily, the skin scalded. Droplets of burnt coffee fly onto the machine as he shakes them off.

You startle, turning to look at him. “You alright?”

“Coffee’s on us,” James replies, reaching over Remus to cancel the order. His peripheral vision catches the incredulous look he sends him, but he thinks it a disservice to look away from you in this moment. The melancholy in your eyes ebbs a little. James’ heart soars.

“Really?” You ask, your voice a little louder now.

“Oh yeah,” James responds, faux-serious. “You’re our fiftieth customer today.”

“You’re lying,” you say, a flicker of a smile on your face.

James shrugs, grinning handsomely. “D’you want the free coffee or not, oat milk?”

You raise your eyebrows in response, pretending to zip your lips and throw away the key. James nods approvingly.

He discards the dregs of the cappuccino he was making, starting anew with his gaze flitting over to you intermittently. You watch the trees sway through the high windows to the left of you as you wait, your hands clasped in front of you, one wrist held in a palm. He knows, as he watches you, that you have to go feel all of the pain to see a way out of it.

So he keeps his mouth shut for now, and hopes this cafe will become a regular haunt.

Weeks, a month, two passes. He takes it slow. He thinks your dreadfully pretty but that’s besides the point right now; when he was grieving his relationship with Lily, all he wanted to do was mope and be left alone. No number of Sirius’ “friends” could quell that deep, overwhelming hankering in his chest.

“Hey,” you greet one day, resolute.

James raises his eyebrows at you. Remus is off sick. “Hey?”

“I’m paying today.”

James snorts, shaking his head. “No way.”

“I’m tipping heavily,” you warn.

“Wow,” James sighs sadly. “Like you would any other employee, huh? And here I thought we were friends.”

“Shut up.” You scowl. Not really; it baffles James, how your features can still look so sweet when they’re contorted all angrily. “You’re right. You don’t even need this job.”

The thing about James is, his family owns half the establishments in town square. He’s one of those enigmatic personalities that you’ve always known to rule your hometown; around when you are, dancing around the corners of your gaze, kind and ever-present but never very important. Until now.

He grins handsomely, dropping into a curtesy. He oozes fondness and it makes you forget things often. “Nepo baby at your service, sweetheart.”

“That’s what I don’t get about all this,” you say. “You don’t… why’re you wasting your time here? Is this gig just a way for you to pick up chics?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“James.”

He grins wider, raising his arms in surrender. “Full disclosure?”

You cock your head to one side, intrigued. “I’m listening.”

“Well… it actually started as a way to fill my time,” he answers, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “I went through a pretty tough break up last year, and I couldn’t bear to be sat at home hurting over the same shit over and over.

“So dad got me this gig. I didn’t even get paid in the start, honest. I barely did anything; made like, one coffee over eight hours. But I was around people, and that helped. I don’t know.”

You swallow. It sounds far too familiar to your own circumstances, and a distant ache rings through your chest — a reminder. “I know the feeling.”

“And then I met Rems, and introduced him to my mate Sirius,” he continues, raising his eyebrows. “Turns out they’re fucking mad for each other, who’d have thought it? And it just reminded me… I don’t know, that there’s still hope.”

Another pause. You know what he means, but you want him to say it anyway, for your own sake.

Your lashes flutter closed. “Hope?”

“To love again. Eventually.”

His rough timbre reverberates through your insides. You nod, slowly, and when you open your eyes, unshed tears darken your lashes. James frowns, but he doesn’t intervene. He knows this feeling; his own heart mourns its melody.

He hands you your coffee soundlessly.

“Thanks,” you says, your voice cracks.

When you turn around, you know you’ll be back tomorrow. And then the next day, a few days after.

You aren’t sure when you start believing it too. But slowly, slowly, without even knowing you are, you begin smiling more. Ruminating less. No one’s ever given you this many free coffees in the past. James’ tally surpasses your ex-boyfriend’s by week four; the small talk’s more about you than about him, and he learns your quirks with this startling sincerity that you didn’t think you’d ever experience again.

The more you see of James, the more you recognise how much love your past relationship lacked. Strangers, friends, more than. All you did was blink.

Though of course, you’d be lying if you said the melancholy didn’t wax and wane, flow through you in waves that make your entire being crash ashore.

James knows this. He still feels the odd pang of heartache at the thought of Evans.

On Christmas Eve, the air feels different. The melted snow in your hair glistens in the warm light of the cafe, and for the first time since he met you, James sees it reflected in your gaze.

“The usual?” Remus asks in lieu of greeting.

“Times two, if possible Rem,” you say. You turn to James. “Coffee?”

James startles for a moment before he regains his composure, his wide, brown eyes falling over your in paces. You’ve always been breathtakingly beautiful, but something about your features seems different now, better.

Softer. Healed.

“You’re paying though, right?” James asks, faux-serious.

“I see,” you reply, folding your arms across your chest. “As long as it’s not a date, you have no problem paying for things?”

“Shit,” James wolf-whistles approvingly, jumping over the counter so he’s standing right in front of you. You gaze tilts, messing with your centre of gravity. “This is a date, huh?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Do you want it to be?”

James raises his in tandem. “If that’d make you happy.”

A pause. “You know,” you say quietly, breaking eye contact. “After my break up, I didn’t think anything’d make me happy ever again.”

James’ features soften. He reaches forward and cups your jaw, returning your gaze to his. “And now?”

“Can’t you see it in my face, James Potter?” You smile poignantly. “Yes is the answer to your question, by the way. It’d make me very happy.”

Behind you, Remus begins to clap. James groans and drops his head to your shoulder, deftly flipping him off. “Don’t fucking start, Moons.”

“Are you kidding? Coffee’s are on me, by the way. Pads is going to fucking die when he finds out.”

But on a Wednesday in a cafe / I watched it begin again