#you see how I’m STILL blathering

[icedchaiwithoatmilk]

I always say I’m bad at holding a conversation but then somebody will ask me something and suddenly I have, as my 8th grade language arts teacher would say, “diarrhea of the mouth.”

[flawseer]

Your thoughts on the wof characters have been really interesting and I'd love to hear your take on Starflight (your assignment of him being the 'designated sufferer' of arc one is both hilarious and tragically accurate). I've always liked him, cowardly though he is he still acts when he really needs to and the dynamic between him and Tsunami is super fun (the whole outwardly combative but inwardly just wishing to be as strong/as smart as the other).

I like Starflight and I relate to him a lot, as a fellow chronic worrier who annoys his friends with constant blathering about stuff only I find interesting, and often finding myself paralyzed in the face of decisions.

It’s funny how the story puts forward a black dragon, which in media are usually portrayed as mysterious, ambiguously malevolent harbingers of doom, and makes him into this adorable dork.

He’s also the plot’s chew toy, which I am at times less enthusiastic about. Especially when jokes are made at the expense of his misfortune.

Wings of Night and Sea

Starflight’s and Tsunami’s friendship is very engaging because, in a sense, both of them complete each other. For each, emulating the other serves as their last resort when faced with a personal crisis. Whenever Tsunami encounters a situation she cannot overcome with her usual blunt and direct approach, she asks herself how Starflight would resolve the situation. When Starflight becomes overwhelmed and too scared to move, his mind conjures an image of the strongest, bravest, most unstoppable thing he knows, which is Tsunami. Though either would be reluctant to openly admit it to each other, they both rely on each other’s strengths to cover their own weaknesses.

Through this you get the sense that, while their opposite personalities annoy each other to no end—if you locked both of them in a room for three hours, they’d be strangling each other when you open the door again—at their core they have only the deepest respect for each other. It becomes especially apparent when you realize that both of their stories in their respective books have them compare themselves to the other unfavorably.

If these two ever did a DBZ-style fusion dance, the result would likely be one of the most capable and balanced characters in their series.

Starflight's misfortune

CW: Discussion of blindness

One thing I have noticed (and have alluded to a lot in previous posts) is that the plot really likes to kick Starflight in the teeth. His own story arc puts him through the wringer, but he is not even safe in the two arcs past that, where he is largely out of focus. Most of the things that happen to him in arc 1 seem to occur for the sake of the story, but past that... it sometimes feels to me like the world has it in for this guy.

I started writing a list of every bad thing that happens to Starflight over all three arcs, but it got way too long, so now I’m just going to talk about a few select things instead.

One thing that stands out to me is that every other protagonist in arc 1 gets a specific moment. That kind of scene where they enter their tribe’s biome for the first time or connect with a particular part of their culture/physiology, and are overcome with a sudden burst of euphoria or deep resonance with their own nature. Clay gets it when he submerges himself in mud for the first time and then later again when he finds his siblings, Tsunami when she sees and smells the ocean, Glory when she’s in the rainforest and feels the sun, and Sunny when they go through the magic tunnel and end up in the desert. Starflight is the only arc 1 protagonist who doesn’t get a moment like this; when he enters his tribe’s home for the first time it’s a giant craphole that makes him feel upset. It only gets worse from there.

Then there is the big one; the misfortune that happens to him at the end of his book. I struggle to talk about this because... uh... How do I put this?

I opened this post by saying I relate to Starflight on a personal level. I wouldn’t consider myself as studious or well-read as him, so it’s not a direct comparison, but I do like to draw, write and dabble in visual artistry. This is a major part of my life; how I define myself as a person and what I think makes me “me”. The thing about this though is that all of this is tied up into one thing: my sense of sight.

It follows then that what ends up happening to Starflight is the realization of the one thing I fear the most. Thinking about the possibility of losing ones sight is deeply, personally horrifying to me. It messes me up internally just to consider it happening to me.

This, the subject of becoming blind, is a very difficult topic for any story to properly engage with. There are many pitfalls you can fall into and come off as insensitive, or ignorant. The way Wings of Fire deals with this subject is to... well... it doesn’t really. Starflight is blinded and then the story skips over most of his reaction to it because the next POV character gets separated from the group while they sort it out.

In a way, this is a good thing. I don’t know how this series—which often rushes through these really uncomfortable, harrowing events—would be able to show a realistic reaction to this development. Like, losing ones sight would be a horrifying prospect for anyone, but for Starflight especially this completely uproots not only his entire life, but his sense of identity. Everything he likes doing, everything he is and wants to be in life is rendered virtually impossible by this.

Consider who Starflight is. He is a thinker, and a worrier who is always inside his own head. He dreads and fears, he seeks out worst case scenarios, I daresay he is inclined towards pessimism. Whenever his neuroticism gets him too stressed, or emotional, or worried, he has one immediate response: bury his nose in a scroll. When he arrives in a new place, he usually asks where the scrolls are at. When he is under threat of being abducted or attacked, his first instinct is to go grab his scrolls to keep them safe. Like with me and drawing, reading is how he unwinds, how he balances himself. It is what keeps him sane and functional through dealing with adversity (and he's Starflight, so he deals with a lot of adversity).

Then this happens to him, and suddenly the one thing that makes this poor, battered boy happy, the one thing that never hurts him, is taken away forever. If I was in his place, if I learned I was suddenly blind, I would fall apart. I would cry, then scream, then cry AND scream and probably flail around in a panic. Clay would have to hold me down and restrain me so I don’t end up falling off the platform in a frenzied fit. Or worse.

So yeah, I get why the plot had to look away. Seeing this happen to Starflight—him going through this kind of anguish and then sinking into quiet despair as his world crumbles around him—would have been heartbreaking. In the end, we go on Sunny’s solo adventure and when she returns Starflight is already conveniently past the screaming fit phase and has adjusted to his new life circumstances—enough to talk and joke as if nothing happened. He then goes on to dedicate himself to bringing the wonders of literature to other blind dragons, which is a noble goal and good trajectory for his character—even if it’s a bit abrupt and I would have liked to SEE him do that instead of just being told.

Anyway.

This next one isn’t as notable because it doesn’t happen TO him, but I want to point it out to back up my claim that Starflight Ls can and will happen even in story arcs that have very little to do with him. In book 6 Moonwatcher and Darkstalker have a conversation where they discuss the concept of Nightwing powers and how they relate to the moons. The story very pointedly draws attention to the fact that Starflight nearly was born under three full moons and would have become the most powerful Nightwing of his generation if his inept caretakers had not decided to hatch him underground. While I don’t think getting these powers would have been good for Starflight in the long run, it is a bit sad considering he spent most of his childhood thinking he was born wrong because he didn’t have powers, and then Morrowseer further gaslit him about it throughout the arc.

And then we don't talk about what happens in arc 3. I am not the right person to discuss it.

My take on Starflight

I was asked to give my take on the character, so...

I already went into how I think he’s very introspective and prone to worrying. I see him as an introvert, which is something he has in common with Glory, and contrast him with Sunny, Clay, and especially Tsunami. He enjoys reading but also other activities where he gets to use his brain. He likes puzzles; I imagine he got very excited when they had to figure out the murder plot in book 2, or when he caught Blister in a lie. If he had a computer it would be full of adventure and puzzle games, and he’d hog the resident DS to play the Professor Layton series all the time.

When they found the academy, it is implied he teaches a literacy course and gives out writing assignments. That is right up his alley, but I’ve always felt he also has strong math/natural science teacher vibes. There should logically be a numbers class at that school and I can’t imagine any other character who would be more suited to teach it.

If I were asked where I would make changes to his story, I guess I would nix the part where he and Fatespeaker hook up in book 5. I have nothing against their relationship, it’s actually grown a lot on me over time. But I never liked how it started. Starflight gets rejected by Sunny and then immediately hooks up with Fatespeaker. This is really undignified for her because it takes their potentially intriguing romantic relationship and turns her into Starflight’s “rebound chick”. You really need to give yourself some time to move on from your previous attraction; rushing like this creates doomed relationships.

The original story implies that about half a year passes between the end of arc 1 and the start of arc 2. I like to pretend this gap is actually a bit longer, by like 2 or 3 years. It gives the old protagonists a bit more time to settle into the roles they’ll occupy during the next arc, and makes it more plausible to me that they could build and outfit an entire school, write the curriculum, designate roles, etc..

In that time, with things being more calm now, Starflight has opportunity to get lost in his own thoughts again. It turns out, now that the dangers of the war are no longer distracting him, he finds it difficult to cope with his blindness and sinks into a depression.

While this happens, Fatespeaker is there with him. She sees his condition worsening by the day, but refuses to give up on him. She reads to him; they talk, and they bond. Though serious self-searching and hard work, together they manage to pull out of the darkness eventually. This is how their relationship starts, and it’s also how Starflight gets the idea to invent the dragon-equivalent of braille.

Somewhere during that time, I also imagine Glory has Tamarin escorted to Jade Mountain so she can help Starflight adjust to his new situation and learn how to navigate his life without needing to rely on others. Perhaps this is what motivates Tamarin to attend the academy later.

What else is there to say? Hmm...

I think Starflight is really fond of hard candy. Jawbreakers are his favorite especially. Though given how prone to misfortune he is in the story, I’m hesitant to put him in proximity of anything with a name like that.

[silentglassbreak]

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

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

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

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

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

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: smut, heartbreak, lots and lots of angst

Can You Feel My Heart

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's when the words left his mouth.

"We need to talk."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not if I want to shower."

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

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

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

"Shut up. And get off me!"

He stuck his bottom lip out, pouting heavily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He scoffed. "Not a chance."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh no? And if I do?"

"You can't."

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes popped open, then. "What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What act?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I thought that's what we wanted."

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

He was silent, then.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I do love you!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You need to leave, Noah."

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

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

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

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

His body shifted, but I was stone, unmoving.

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

I let myself laugh at that.

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

7 Years Later

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

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

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

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

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

"You look so fine!"

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

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

"So, Tyler isn't coming."

She frowned at me. "Why not?"

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

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

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

I liked him.

Right?

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

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

"Yeah, who are we seeing, anyway?"

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

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

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

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

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

Bad Omens...they were the headliner.

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

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

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

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

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

Huh. Guess he could live without me after all?

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

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

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

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

“Long time ago.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Nick?"

His face turned back to me.

"How is he?"

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

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

"How so?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Damn it, alright, come here."

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

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

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

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

"Do you know anyone else in the band?"

I glanced around, feeling wildly uncomfortable by the conversation.

"I may know the entire band."

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

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

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

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

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

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

We turned, ready to make our way back inside.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was going to actually vomit at that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tyler: Hey beautiful! How's the show?

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

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

He didn't take but a minute to respond.

Tyler: Having fun?

Ha, what a joke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nick took his spot, playing his bass tones.

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

A voice I'd never forget.

"Can you hear me through the white noise?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

The words of the song resonated deep in my thoughts.

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

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

Noah had changed...

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

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

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

The crowd erupted.

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

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

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

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

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

My heart twisted in my chest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hang on! Wait!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

He thought he did, but now...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

I couldn't do that again.

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

Who would be calling me at 2AM?

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

"Hello?"

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

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

"Noah?" It barely came out.

"It's been a long time."

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

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

I sighed. "Nick told you?"

"He might've."

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

"Why?"

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

He hummed. "That's true."

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

"What did you think?"

"Of the show?"

"Mhm."

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

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

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

"In a bad way?"

"No. Not at all."

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

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

"Why did you call, Noah?"

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

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have."

"Maybe. I wanted to hear your voice."

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

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

My heart pounded. "What?"

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

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

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

I perused the idea. "When?"

"Now?"

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

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

This struck me. Maybe he hadn't changed?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I had to."

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

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

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

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

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

To my chagrin, he was still there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oop. I wasn't expecting that.

"The second one. Villain, or something?"

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

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

"Mm, and which one was that?"

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

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

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

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

"Am I wrong?"

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

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

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

"You still haven't said why."

"Why did you want to see me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

I furrowed my brow. "Waiting?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My heart stopped, completely motionless.

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Noah, I had no idea-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I couldn't take it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread over me.

"Hi." Was all I could manage.

He chuckled tiredly. "Hi."

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Odd?

I resent it, getting the same response.

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

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

His number was the same, right?

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

So...what the hell?

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

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

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

[sp00kymulderr]

Thank you for tagging me @kedsandtubesocks @schnarfer @almostfoxglove @guiltyasdave @chronically-ghosted & @arcanefox207 to post my favourites of my own work this year ❤️

FOR MY FAVOURITES FROM OTHER WRITERS/ARTISTS THIS YEAR CLICK HERE

I will be honest I wasn’t going to do this, but I suppose we can be nice to ourselves as a treat 😅 I think it’s a lovely idea and absolutely everyone should be allowed to feel proud of their creativity and expression. It’s not always easy, we really are our own worst critics aren’t we? But celebrating ourselves is important.

It’s been a very up and down year for me as a person and a creator. I want to write all the time, but most of the time my brain doesn’t allow that. I’ve thought about deleting. I’ve thought about giving up writing. But I haven’t, and I’m still here, and I thank my gorgeous friends and the absolutely incredible people in this fandom for that for being so loving and encouraging 💕

Anyway let me stop blathering on, here’s some of the things I’ve enjoyed making this year!

🩵The Dieter Bravo Brainrot club is without a doubt the best thing I’ve been involved in this year. Me and @chronically-ghosted launched our dedicated Dieter discord server in January and now I don’t know where I’d be without it. It was just a silly little idea me and Taylor both had separately at seemingly the same time, and now it’s a whole thing. I’ve run writing challenges, we’ve had numerous watch parties, silly games, and now a gift exchange! And it’s never felt like anything but joy. We are feral, we are fun, we are encouraging and we lift each other up. And did I mention feral? I love having a dedicated space to talk about That Man, I love the ideas that pop up in there, the art and thoughts that are shared. I love running that place and I love everyone who is part of that community - thank you all for making my year 🩷

🩵Lover boy - Joel Miller x transmasc reader - Lover boy is my pride and joy, and truly the thing I’ve written I think i personally connect with the most. I was scared of posting the first fic tbh, but I’m so glad I did. It’s a chance for me to explore things that mean a lot to me. And I just love how in love they are. It’s only a few short pieces for now, but I have so much more planned for these two.

🩵After - Dave York x Carol York x Reader - This little story came to me after rereading one of my favourite poems. I loved the ache of it, the sweetness of the melancholy and the warmth of the post-threesome glow. I really love this short piece, I find myself coming back to it a lot.

🩵lost, found - Dieter Bravo x reader - Dieter and angst just makes sense, and this was born of my own angst which I guess is why it’s stuck with me since writing it. I think Dieter is an easy character to project certain feelings on to, and I have a lot of headcanons about his early life and his queerness especially. Also this story features my favourite polycule and one day I’m gonna write all about them.

🩵inhale, exhale - Joel Miller x reader - I’ve written a lot of Joel this year, more than any other character. Can’t help it, he’s fantastic to write. This is a little angsty, a little smutty, with a slice of the horrors of the qz too. I remember it just flowing from me while I wrote it and I’m really happy with the finished piece.

🩵Closer to light - Javi P x reader - Idk I just think this is insanely hot if I do say so myself.

Tagging some others to share their own 2024 favourites and celebrate their work! @covetyou @seventeenpins @perotovar @qveerthe0ry @sin-djarin

@luxurychristmaspudding @for-a-longlongtime @strang3lov3 @missredherring @ozarkthedog (And if you’ve already done this, tag me in yours ❤️ I wanna see!)

[fullofbees]

Obey Me Brothers with an AroAce MC!

I know it's technically July 1st but shhhhhhhhh

CW: None!

»»----------► Reader is Gender Neutral

He would be the most nonchalant about it. When you first come out to him, he lifts his head from the desk, staring at you confused. You sweat, about to overexplain before he interrupts you with a question. 

“Will this affect our relationship as it exists now?”   You shake your head, “Of course not, I’m more than content.”  He nods, returning to the paperwork on his desk, the silence only broken by the scribbles of his pen. You remain in place, now the one staring in confusion.  When he notices you haven’t left, he raises his head, “Everything alright?”  “I’m just shocked. Most people have a few... follow-up questions.”  Lucifer shrugs, “Lust isn’t my department.” 

He would first ask a million questions trying to understand. It’s not that I don’t think Mammon couldn’t understand, I think it’s more that he genuinely does not care what you identify as, but he wants to learn about you so he’s going to pester you about it. So long as you remain his friend, and he gets to retain his bragging rights as your first demon, you’ll always be cool. 

You try to keep up as he drags you down the street.   “Mammon, why do I need to go the casino with you again?”  The demons rolls his eyes like you just asked the most ridiculous question in the world, “Pffft! You’re my lucky charm of course.”   “I am not playing the slots for you!”  You almost ram straight into his back when he abruptly stops.   “Don’t need ya to. I’ll be sure ta win with an ace up my sleeve!”   Now its your turn to roll your eyes, at least so you don’t have to look at his smug face. It’ll only encourage him. 

When you first explain your orientation to Levi, he is excited. You know Levi gets easily flustered when it comes to emotions, but he’s made great strides to let you see his vulnerability, so in the end you decided to show yours too. It still doesn’t mean you were expecting him to start on another anime ramble. 

“That makes so much sense!! I mean in My Whole Life I’ve Been a Cat but A Wizard Recently Made Me Human and Now I Have to Attend High School Where a Pack of Dogs Is Out to Get Me Because I’m The Adopted Daughter of Their Rival Gang Leader, the protagonist never receives a love interest! I totally thought they were retconning the manga when they had her turning down every declaration of love but her being aroace would fit the storyline so much better--” 

Already understands; you don’t even have to explain the terms to him. 

“Wait, you.. Know what I’m talking about?”  The demon glances up at you from his book, “That is what I just said.”  “Wha- from what- how?” You hate blathering incoherently, especially in front of Satan, but his reaction is not what you were expecting.  The demon raises his book so that you can see the cover, “Sherlock Holmes.”  You process the comical nature of this interaction before quipping back, “Yes, I suppose it is elementary.” 

Would probably go overboard in his support. Of course he means well, he’s just excited!! He goes out of his way to stay up-to-date on the tea news of the community; and honestly, he probably finds you the most obscure pride merch. 

“You should let me paint your nails the colors of the flag, hon!”  You stare down at your plain, dry nailbeds. They are definitely overdue some TLC.  “I don’t know if I want to be that on the nose about it...”  “Oh hush, I’ve never disappointed you before, have I?” He says with a giggle and a wink, “C’mon, chop chop! Off to my studio!”   “You mean your room?” You tease.  “Studiiiioo~”  

Finds out because he overheard you discussing the garlic bread and cake memes.  

“Aroace cake.... sound delicious, what’s in it?” The hungry demon asks just after his signature stomach growl.  “It’s not a real cake, Beel,” says Levi.  The poor demon’s face drops, now pouting as he looks down at his aching stomach.   “Beel, you okay?”  He dejectedly sulks out of the room and towards the kitchen, muttering to himself about the cake being a lie. 

I think Belphie would understand it to a startling degree. He has never had any serious relationships himself, finding that he already feels fulfilled with his friends and family. Perhaps you can help him explore this new revelation.  

“Mmm, it must be nice, actually. Less time wasted, more time for naps.”  “I never thought of it like that before... I should take more naps.”  He nods with a sleepy grin, patting the cushion next to him, “Who needs a thirst trap when you can have your first nap?” 

•••✦ ❤ ✦••• Submit A Request •••✦ ❤ ✦•••

A/N: Happy Pride Month from your fellow aroace author! Wishing you all the best <3

[aeshiiteiru]

I’m so sorry if this make you uncomfortable or this is stupid😔 but i would like to request when s/o slaps tecchou, chuuya and Dazai’s ass

My Peach!

— s/o slaps their butt ft. O. Dazai, N. Chuuya, S. Tetchou

— Warnings & Notes

sfw? | Crack

|| It was quite fun to write! I didn’t feel uncomfortable with it at all! It was a very funny and interesting request so thank you! I hope you like it and sorry for the long wait. I didn’t know how to approach it at first because none of my previous ideas was good enough, but here we are! As you can see, with each character the story got longer lmao

|| Gn! Reader, Pre-established relationship in Dazais’ part, lots of mentions regarding their butts, Thicc Tetchou, Door flat Dazai, Nice average Chuuya!

m.list | writing rules

— Dazai

It wasn't often that the ADA office experienced a calm day. So it's understandable that you felt annoyed when your disruptive and bothersome coworker entered and started creating havoc in the workplace. As you turned to face Kunikida, you could already see the outraged-induced exceptionally visible vein on his forehead. Dazai started toward his workspace but stopped mid-step as he moved toward Kunikida. You were already annoyed when he bragged, "Kunikida-kun, you'll never believe what happened today! I nearly convinced that lovely, elegant waitress from the café below to commit double suicide with me! Can you believe it? It's the best day of my life!" He clapped, making you even angrier. Hearing these things repeatedly made you envious because you really liked him. Particularly given that he never paid attention to you or expressed the same level of interest in you as he did with all these other women, leaving you with the impression that you are either not his type or that you are too uninteresting for him. You and Kunikida both had to give up after listening to his blathering for another five minutes, so you got up and walked over to him. Simply following him while listening to him speak until he notices you. Kunikida, who was about to strike his annoying coworker, yelled, "Dazai, this is highly inappropriate; stop it right away!", but Dazai wasn’t having any of it, he only continued. “But how can I?! She is like an angel! Who knows, maybe I'll be able to have some fun before we pass away together! I mean, she has such a decent as-" Suddenly the room became quiet. There was only a loud slapping noise that rang in everyone's ears and caught everyone's attention. Dazai turned to face you in shock. With a hurt look on your face, you were clinging to your hand. Still unable to believe it actually happened, searching for clarification, he asked, "Did- did you just slap my ass?". "Uh, no doubt, and I unquestionably regret it; it's so flat I think I broke my hand, and with such a flat ass, I'm sure that waitress won't do anything with you.", you mumbled as you walked back to your desk.

Your words clearly gave him a little ego-bruise.

Everyone was laughing, and even Kunikida had a small grin on his face. Dazai unquestionably recognized you, even if you slightly damaged your hand in the process, Dazais' interest was piqued after the impromptu mission was completed.

— Chuuya

You were walking down a hallway inside the administrative building of the port mafia.' It was an ordinary day for everyone. No major obligations, no appointments, and surprisingly little communication from your significant other. The plan was for Chuuya to meet you in the hallway. He forgot his lunch and asked you to buy him something, and as the amazing partner you were, how could you possibly let him starve? So, with some goodies in one hand and your phone in the other, you roamed around, waiting for him to show up. Periodically, you checked your phone to see if he had texted you with an update on his location or expected arrival time. You soon noticed a very slight vibration in your hand. The onset of a massage. Chuuya.

—Come on, doll, I'm in my office. —

You smiled softly at the pet name, though you were a little irritated that he hadn't told you about it earlier. A few subordinates greeted you as you passed them on the way to his office out of respect as you moved forward. The closer you got to his office as you made your way down the hallway, the louder it grew. Chuuya regularly yelled insults at everything. Occasionally, you would want to clean his mouth with soap after he fell asleep. In any case, you quickly knocked on the wooden door while you waited for him to cool off and quietly say, "Come in."

You welcomed him as you opened the door with a tepid smile on your face. "I got you lunch, my love. You seem to be quite stressed, so I thought maybe we could eat together.", you noted as you walked inside, closing the door behind you. In order to meet you halfway, he only scoffed before rising from his chair. “My subordinates give me reports that sound like they're written by five-year-olds. Let's not even begin to dwell on the stress that goes with it.", he sighed, and all you did was smile softly and extend your arms to embrace him. With a warm embrace, he hugged you tightly and accepted the closure with clemency. He was completely exhausted."I swear, I'll blow up this place if another person comes here and sends back such a horrifying report.", he murmured into your shoulder before releasing your hold and turning to return to his desk. Your hand had already landed on his butt before you even considered it. You enthusiastically exclaimed, "I'm sure you'll be fine!". However, soon after, your boyfriend let out a yelp and turned to look at you with a bewildered expression, which made you realize something isn't right. Only after trying to make connections did you look down and notice that your hand was on his butt. You just smacked your boyfriend in the behind. You quickly retrieved your hand with a gasp, now looking back at him in shock. You tried to apologize and say, "I'm so sorry; I don't know why I did that!," but what was done was done. He feigned coughing as he attempted to gather himself and cover up the faint blush that had crept up his cheeks. “It’s…fine.” He replied, turning around so you wouldn't see how embarrassing it was for him, "Let's just act like this never happened, and don't you dare tell anyone about it!". He actually liked it. Even though he would never tell you, he enjoyed it.

— Tetchou

You were in the office with other hunting dogs. There was no need to leave, but there was a lot of paperwork on that day. Everything was going as usual, Teruko was annoying Tachihara, who was just trying to get his shit done, while Jouno was very close to throwing your boyfriend out the window for another stupid thing he said. Everything would’ve been fine, if not for the fact you couldn’t concentrate on work at all. It all started when you and your boyfriend Tetchou were at home getting ready for work. You really needed to grab something from the bathroom, but what you didn’t know was that your boyfriend was just finishing his shower. So, it was clear that once you entered the bathroom you were met with a little confused Tetchou who was drying his hair with a towel. Obviously, since he was using his towel to dry his hair, his whole body was exposed. That’s when you noticed how juicy and nice his butt was. Honestly, you felt quite jealous after seeing it. But that brings you to the present moment, sitting at your desk, shamelessly staring at your boyfriends' ass at work. It was very obvious, so Teruko and Tachihara very quickly noticed it and as the troublemakers they were, they shouted in Tetchous' direction, snitching on you. He only turned around, taking a look at you with confusion. “Y/n, why are you staring at my butt? Do I have something on there?”, he asked, taking a look at his own butt to answer his own question. You on the other hand got embarrassed after being called out like this. You sent a threatening stare in Teruko and Tachiharas' direction, but they didn’t even notice it, too busy laughing at this situation. Jouno was making gagging noises, showing pure disgust on his face at what he heard. “Keep that behind closed doors, pervert.”, he commented, making you even more embarrassed. Tetchou took a look at you again and made his way to your desk. You didn’t even have time to react before he stood next to you, leaning down to face you. “You’re all red, are you alright? Do you have a fever?”, he asked, seeming concerned. This only made you facepalm. How can someone be this oblivious to everything. “You know, I don’t mind you looking. I mean, you are my s/o, if you’re into that I’m fine with it.”, he tried to reassure you, but each word made it even worse. Everyone thought you were a pervert now. The worst thing was that you still couldn’t help yourself but take a peak at his butt when he turned around to look at Jouno who judged everyone severely. Before you could rethink it, you gave in to your desires and gave his butt a nice, hard slap. That shocked everyone, including you. Teruko and Tachihara immediately stopped laughing, looking at you in disbelief. Jouno was even more disgusted, if that was even possible. The slap was so powerful that he could hear it and connect the dots. Tetchou only turned around to look at your surprised expression, looking absolutely clueless. “…dear, did you just…spank me? What was the reason?”, he asked, awaiting your explanation. You just stared at him, it was as if time stopped, only the feeling of his soft, juicy ass lingering on your hand from the slap. You just wanted to squeeze his butt cheeks on the spot, but immediately rejected that idea. “It’s so nice, I couldn’t help myself. ”, you admitted, catching him off guard and making the troublemakers laugh at you harder than ever before. You knew that this event would be a lasting memory for you throughout your career, but you didn't care. You didn’t regret what you did and immediately planned doing it again once the two of you are in the comfort of your shared home.

Copyright © 2023 Aeshiiteiru.

[extremelyexh4usted]

scenario reversal based my previous shiggy fic (what if the reader was playing a game instead of shiggy?)

NSFW, chubby!reader coded, no race implied? reader has a vag but other than saying good girl and princess once, gendered terms aren’t used, praise kink, fingering, previous mentions of sex, getting hickies, unrealistic fingering since no lube will be used, reader already provided more than enough lubricant, squirting implied

correct me if i’m wrong/missed anything in the above description 🙏☺️

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dont read if under 17

if y’all saw my accidental posting of an earlier draft, no you didn’t🤠 and sorry if this is ass😬

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you just wanted to take your mind off the ache from yesterday. tenko had a long day and took it out on you, which you thoroughly enjoyed but the both of you did t realize that aftercare should’ve been a little bit more gently handled. it had been a good 7 hours of restless sleep

you were playing animal crossing for a good 30 min already before your favorite person woke up and crawled on the couch, still yawning. you sat up when he scooted over and put his head on your lap. his eyes were shut, exhausted too. a whimper was heard “morning handsome,” you shot him a soft smile. “mmmmgh..how you feel?,” his face still in between your legs, voice muffled. he flipped over to see your face smiling warmly down at him. even after spending so much time with him you never got sick of how good you felt around him.

the faintest whimper emerged out of your mouth. you held your breath, hoping he didn’t hear it; after all, you were still achy from the night before.

“hey lover?” “yeah babe?,” you replied on edge he knew the state you were in.

he started kissing your neck, leaving kitten licks and bites wherever he could, causing your whimpers to go to full on moaning.

“fuck baby you’re soaking your pants,” you mewled at the feel of his fingers prodding at your overstimmed cunt over your clothes.

he pulled down your pants, and went back to kissing your neck while teasing your hole. “no panties? you were so ready for this weren’t ‘cha? my good girl,” he purred softly.

you preened at the praise, you loved when shiggy made you feel like this. you tried to put down the switch to give tomura some relief but his hand on your wrist gave you a pause. “keep playing, and if i see you pause before you cum, you have no idea how much more sore you’ll be.”

the way your back arched at that was crazy. “tomuraaaa,” you moaned out.

he started to actually touch you instead of the previous ghosting of you like before. you started off to timmy and tommy to sell your peaches and dragonflies, trying to focus on the game instead of the sensations downstairs.

by the time you exited the shop, shigaraki already had 2 fingers inside with another on your clit and your focus wavering.

you started off to water your garden when you felt your orgasm coming. “sh-shit tomuraaa,” “i know baby, i can feel it too, just hold on a little longer yeah? go to blathers and give him your fossils then i’ll let you.”

you don’t think you’ve wished your villager had the ability to sprint more than you did then. after a good minute of running, your orgasm was getting harder to hold back “shiggyyyyyy.. please baby please please can i cum?,” you begged. “just a little longer alright? you’re almost there,” his tone sounded so sweet but you knew he probably had the smile of the cheshire cat if you looked up at him.

as soon as you ran into the museum, you moaned out “please baby i don’t know if i can hold it anymore.” “alright princess let it out. cum for me.”

the single finger on your clit kept stroking as you mewled, coaxing you through your orgasm.

“shit baby you made a mess of the couch. you okay?” “yeah, yeah.. it just felt really good,” you giggled out.

“soooo.. back to bed?” “nah, let’s just stay here for a sec, i gotta plug the switch in.” “clean it off first alright, gotta make sure none of your juices ended up in it.”

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(a/n; tysm for reading🫶 i’ve been going through it with school and being sick but i’m trying to get back into posting again. thanks for the love)

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[image found on rule 34, pretty sure it’s lewdfroggo’s work]

[rarestdoll]

a sight for sore eyes (pt.1)

prompt: mizu just can't seem to escape you no matter how hard she tries, even in her dreams

tags: lesbian, 18+, black fem!reader, using she/he pronouns for mizu, they/them for reader!

warnings: none yet! nsfw in later chapters!

with that, mizu makes her arrival around midnight, just as shop is about to close. slipping through the alleyways and back roads, she heads straight for the noodle shop. she half wonders if ringo will want to see her, especially for all the time she's been gone and for her lack of letters. she knows ringo is soft hearted with an even softer soul so it wouldn't be out of his nature to be upset over something like that especially when it came to mizu. the thought of it makes her brow knit together, frown forming at the edges of her mouth, nervous to see her friend(s) again. she takes a deep breath of the cold air, letting the crisp shock her back into a somewhat calm state, and she steps into the restaurant.

chest first she is met with hot soba broth, colliding head on with something- no someone soft, and bowls are sent flying to the floor. she doesn't even have time to react before the person has their hands all over her, dabbing and wiping with a cloth that seemed to have come from nowhere while spewing out a rapid mixture of curse words and apologies, the first directed at themselves while the later are at her.

“i'm so fucking sorry sir, i didn't even see you there! i must've been so wrapped up in my head and then you suddenly appeared and i’m the only one in shop right now and i…” mizu is barely paying at attention to the words coming from the person SHE bumped into, only able to stare at the gloss coating plump lips, the rich brown of their skin, the shine of their dark spiraling coils and even shinier brown eyes. she doesn't know what to do with herself, heart beating almost dangerously fast to the point where she finds herself reaching up to clutch her chest to as if to slow it down. she feels hot all over, not just from the noodles but something else, like she's sitting in a suffocatingly hot iron cauldron and she can't find enough moisture in her mouth to swallow down the huge lump that's formed in her throat.

“uhhh i um” she says dumbly, finally finding her voice and hoping the person she's blathering in front of doesn't notice the cracks in it. “no i'm sorry i was not watching where i was going and i did not check twice before entering and i swear i am usually not this clumsy and uh…” she trails off lamely as the person laughs melodically, eyes twinkling in mirth and curiosity and mizu thinks she's never seen anything prettier than the sight before her now.

mizu doesn't realize that she's still clutching her chest until the stranger reaches out to unbind her hand from the front of her cloak, a look of concern crossing their face as they examine the huge wet spot on mizu’s clothing. mizu is taken aback by the gentleness, stomach flipping again for the second time today but this time for an entirely different reason, absentmindedly letting the strangers roam their hands further along her torso.

“are you feeling hurt anywhere? that food was very hot and i am sure you must have gotten burned from its temperature, would it be alright for me to take you to the back to take a look at any possible injuries?” the stranger questions sincerely, face knit with worry and round eyes so big it reminds her of a baby doe and she wants to smooth out the creases in their forehead. adorable. a voice chimes in her head making her eyes widen in both denial and realization. she feels the burn of eyes of a few people leftover in the shop on her and quickly moves to distance herself from the stranger, shaking her head so hard that she almost strains it.

“no,” she manages out, fixing the front of her cloak to ensure that her bindings aren't showing from the stranger’s hand musing her clothes about. “i'm fine, is there any way i can repay you for the spilled food and for your kindness?”

the stranger's face slips back into the same from before, curiosity overpowering amusement more than anything, a kind smile gracing their glossed lips once more. “the boss is away for a few hours to run a few late night errands, if you would be so kind to help me finish the dinner rush and then i could treat you to a nice bowl of soba, a hot bath, and some company and that will make things even, do you accept?”

mizu rolls the idea around in her head a few times, deciding if this was even a good idea given what she originally came here for. seeing that is was trickling down to closing time and there were quite a few people left in the restaurant, maybe the stranger did genuinely need assistance so why not. thoughts about what could come after filled mizu’s mind and she found it even harder to say no now.

“alright, i will help you. however, would it be possible for me to receive a change of clothes, it seems that mine are quite ruined now.” she says, plucking the now cooling broth soaked cloth away from her skin in slight distaste, now smelling like soy and green onion.

the stranger only laughs at this, turning lightly on their heel to lead mizu towards the back end of the shop, slipping into the storage area to hand mizu what looked like cleaning supplies before rounding their way back into the kitchen, “oh there is no need to change silly, you will only get messier until closing! now would you be so kind to clean up the spill that you made and then once your done you can help me re-serve that order to our waiting customers!”

“what the fuck have i gotten myself into?”

once the door flaps shut behind the final customer, mizu slumps onto the nearest floor cushion, rubbing tiredly at her wrists. she hadn't worked this hard since she first started to train, wrists aching pathetically from the amount of soba laden bowls she had carried in the last hour. you had introduced yourselves to each other earlier and mizu could feel her face redden when you repeated her own name back to her in a giddy tone, eager to finally be able to put a name to her face. she feels slightly guilty, ashamed to be thinking of another person this way when she should be focusing on finding her friends. but for some reason she just can’t bring herself to care too much at the moment. she will find them first thing in the morning and besides she can’t turn down a hot meal and equally as hot bath (although she’s looking forward to being in your presence more). sighing as she settles herself into a reclined position on the floor, she scans the room looking for your silk robe clad form, fingers twitching when she spies you across the room tending to the leftover dishes in the wash area. she wants to help you but you scolded her like a child, telling her to wait for you to be finished then you both could eat. her stomach growls in remembrance and she frowns lightly, wanting nothing more than for you to be finished. like she's hoping for something, more than dinner and some fresh clothes, more than just company. her ears burn at the thought and she forcibly shakes it from her mind, guiltily flicking her eyes towards you in hopes that you didn't somehow read her mind.

“you know, i used to watch you sometimes.” you pipe suddenly, hands still sink deep in dish water. you continue to scrub, lips quirking up into a solemn smile at the reminiscence, “up in the mountains, training your heart out, always wondered just exactly who was this onryō that everyone was so scared of. but you were not the only one who was an outcast.” you speak calmly, like you've already rehearsed what you wanted to say, but with a certain sadness that mizu recognized, akin her own. she hears the small shake in your voice as you continue, “as a child i spent so much in kohama’s forest. my father’s sister grew up on the outskirts of the town, hidden away from prying eyes because she looked almost exactly like me, which in turn meant i too was hidden away. i lived with her for most of my life, until i turned eighteen then i was sold off to a group of bandits in kyoto.” mizu feels herself dim at the mention of the men, already knowing what you mean without you having to even fully explain it. “‘i never seen a creature like you before’ they would say.” you fidget uncomfortably, shaking the shudder that started to rack through your body, pushing yourself on for the sake of getting to the point. “what i’m saying is, i’ve see you since i was a kid. i think we are both the same in a lot of ways, except i’ve never raised a sword in my life. i did, however, end up slaughtering those men. a few tried to have their way with me while i slept so i slit their throats with my kitchen knife in return.”

this punches a surprised laugh out of mizu, not because she didn't believe that you would do that but because she knew you could. “i’m not sure why you are telling me any of this but i am glad that you managed to escape from there. those scum deserved nothing but what they had coming to them.”

“oh it was ringo that actually helped me. funny thing is, the big sweetheart ended up killing more men than me!”

the mention of her friend makes her shoot up from the floor, making her way into your space in less than five strides. the strength of her grip as she grasps your wrists in near desperate manner makes you gasp harshly, not at all expecting her hands to be so inhumanly cold.

“ringo?! you know ringo?!”

“well yes! he owns the shop, meaning he is my boss. he should be back soon!” a wide grin graces mizu’s face at the news. seems like what she was looking for has been here all along! she slumps her shoulders in relief as if a huge weight has been lifted off of them. you eyes follow her curiously, faintly wondering what business a lone samurai has with ringo but mizu just smiles loosening her hold on you slightly to guide you away the sink back towards the seating area.

“you sit down, you have helped me enough today. i'm going to make dinner and no don't make that face i've had my share of lessons from ringo so i won't poison you i swear. i would however appreciate those clothes you promised and a hot bath, if you could be so kind?”

a/n: here’s the first chapter! so sorry for the delay i’ve been very sick and i’m just now feeling well enough to work on this again! hope u enjoy ^__^

[rthstewart]

So is John Pevensie still an antagonist in Stone Gryphon? (Am I asking this because I love Helen and Mrs. Godwin? Yes. I am also asking because I love a furiously protective person and John seemed like that in the snippets from his perspective)

@becauseforoncethisisme asked:

So is John Pevensie still an antagonist in Stone Gryphon? (Am I asking this because I love Helen and Mrs. Godwin? Yes. I am also asking because I love a furiously protective person and John seemed like that in the snippets from his perspective)

First, thanks so much for reading and reaching out about the first chapters of Heart and Crow Make The Peace.

Ware below for LONG meta/history/ruth stewart blather

For many years, the first and last look readers had of John Pevensie was a scene in the posted Apostolic Way.  It’s a disastrous dinner at the Rainbow Room in New York City, where Col. Walker-Smythe has brought Edmund to America to work as his aide and batman.  John is, as presented in the story, a writer and editor, recruited by the SOE, to work on the generation of pro-British propaganda.  He is a serial philanderer, is bitterly disappointed that it is Edmund, rather than Peter, who has come to America, and the dinner is excruciatingly painful as John’s memories of his children are several years old and certainly pre-Narnia, leaving Edmund to, once again, be far kinder than his father deserves and Walker-Smythe is furious.  It’s made worse by numerous women who have obviously enjoyed John’s attentions in the past stopping by the table to say hello.  

Meanwhile, Helen Pevensie is back in London, and true to what was more common in 1943 than it was in 2020, has been in a sexual relationship with Mrs. Beatrice Goodwin, the widow next door.  

I was probably too successful in the scene as John can come across as a craven and cruel person. Readers’ sympathies (and mine) have always tilted to Helen.

With the reposted story, I slightly tweaked the previous version of the Rainbow Room scene and have introduced in text that a part of John’s issue is untreated PTSD. So, is this signaling a change of heart for me in John's role? and what about Mrs. Goodwin and Helen?

John's untreated illness is an explanation, in part, but not a justification to be sure.

I’ve always intended for Helen and Beatrice to go their separate ways.  As broad-minded as the Four are, it's different when your parents are involved and I’m finding it hard to push myself to writing that as a resolution or where it’s all just one big happy polyamory.  From discussions with readers, I could see Beatrice moving to a small market town for economy, meeting another widow with young children and you know, there are only 2 bedrooms in the cottage, so of course….   Post-war England was filled with these kinds of relationships of economy and convenience and, presumably, potential romance amongst widows.

As a writer, I also want John and Helen to both put some work in and try to rebuild their relationship.  This is something millions of people had to do post-War and I’m interested in how and whether couples can overcome infidelity.  I’m not sure I could, personally (I’ve been married for over 30 years!) and I’m interested in developing it.  TSG itself presents numerous different takes on bonding and infidelity which, while true to the time period, is also intended as a contrast to Edmund and Lucy’s  own sense of loss for their partners.  Something I’ve not decided is whether Morgan and Aidan, respectively, went on to have their own relationships some period of time later.  

There’s another reason for introducing John’s PTSD.  TSG was originally supposed to be a two-fer, Peter-centric story.  I was going to do a time-skip after the conclusion of Ox 1942 and jump to post war, with Peter starting an affair with Mary, dropping out of uni, finally finding his path, and then everyone dying, with Susan left behind (I had this about half-written, even). I never, EVER wanted to touch the 1940s UK educational systems or Peter’s potential service in the military as I deemed bothway beyond my storytelling skill.

[TQSiT was never in the cards – that’s the fault of an early reader, Miniver on ff dot net long since gone, who asked, Well, given these adventures for Peter, and Lucy and Edmund off on the Dawn Treader, surely Susan is up to something exciting in America, which coincided with me reading a WaPo review Connant’s The Irregulars.  Oops.]

So to avoid having to write Peter in the service, from the very beginning, back in Ox 1942, I wrote that Peter’s parents are opposed to his service and he’s willing to go along with it because he thinks he’s an insubordination risk.  I never explained why they are opposed which is really not especially consistent with the patriotism of the time.  

So, in the story I’ve picked up again 12 years later, John’s trauma at Dunkirk as now part of the reason for that opposition.  He goes to War to protect his family and early on is deeply traumatized by the failures to evacuate soldiers on the beaches; he hears the screams of men and ships going down in his dreams.  In his own protective misguided way, he wants to protect his family from that horror. And when he finds out that Aslan plucked his children out of England and turned them into warriors, he is going to be PISSED.  

 Oops.

Thanks so much   @becauseforoncethisisme!!

[petcr3]

something to rely on | chapter one

series masterlist (coming soon!)

summary: despite being separated, bob floyd is there to support his wife and their son after she sustains some injuries in a car accident.

word count: 4.1k

warnings: separation/divorce, reader is frequently referred to by she/her pronouns, is called bob's wife/ex-wife, mrs. floyd, etc. bob and reader have a son, but i have tried to be as inclusive as possible with regards to appearance and the type of family! (meaning, if i've done my job correctly, charlie can have been adopted, not necessarily carried by the reader, etc.) non-graphic reference to a car accident, non-graphic description of injuries. chapter one is set entirely in a hospital. readers parents are present in the story, still married, and have a good relationship with reader because this is fantasy lol

a/n: lads, it's here. some of you have been hearing me blather about this story for fucking ages and chapter one is finally done. i'm proud of it, i think, but if nothing else i simply cannot keep sitting on it, so here it is! very excited for this story's future <3 i hope you love charlie as much as i do lol

It’s a rare occasion that one hears Bob Floyd before seeing him, but you suppose your getting into a car accident is a special enough occasion. 

Things feel hazy–– with two broken wrists and a broken leg, you’ve been given quite the painkiller. You’re not sure how long you’ve been awake, exactly, but it can’t have been very long. There’s a digital clock on a small table next to your hospital bed, but your neck is too sore to turn far enough over to see it. A thick wooden door is shut against the buzz of the floor outside: the ringing of phones, the click of computer keys, and the clatter of patients being wheeled to and from scans and tests and specialists. 

Even amidst all that, the sound of Bob’s words cuts through. He’s raising his voice, you realize. That’s not like him.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the nurse says on the other side of the door, “but outside of visiting hours I can only admit family, and––”

“I am family,” he says, impatient. 

“I understand that, but when a patient is separated––”

“Separated,” Bob interrupts, “not divorced. That is my wife and the mother of my child, so will you please let me see her?” It sounds much more like a demand than a question. The nurse sighs, clearly frustrated. 

“Let me go speak to her.” She steps out from behind the counter and cuts Bob a severe look. “If she is awake, I’ll let her know you’re here. But given that rest is one of the most crucial things for her right now, I will not be waking her up. You can wait.”

“Thank you,” comes his clipped reply. The nurse approaches your room, only a few steps away from the front desk–– Bob would have just gone straight in, had he known— and when the door creaks open, he can be seen standing over her shoulder–– a respectful distance behind, at least.

“Ma’am, there’s someone here to see you,” she says. You can tell it’s taking everything Bob has not to run to you, but he’s smart enough to know that showing this nurse any more disrespect isn’t wise. “He says he’s your husband,” she continues, “but if you don’t want to see him, I can tell him to leave.”

“No, that’s okay,” you say, “he can come in.” She turns around only to discover Bob right behind her. He squeezes quickly past, murmuring a hurried thank you before practically flying to your bedside. All his frustration quickly dissipates as he leans over you, a deep furrow in his brow. Over his shoulder, you see the nurse shake her head, exasperated, and leave, shutting the door behind her.

“Hey honey,” Bob says, hand lifting to brush across your cheek, as if it’s two years ago and nothing has changed. “Are you alright? What happened?”

“I’m okay, Bobby,” you reply, tired. You surprise yourself, though, using his old nickname like that. Since you two broke up, you’ve only ever called him Bob. “Someone lost control of their car in the rain, apparently. You owe that nurse an apology.”

“And I’ll give her one later. First I need to know that you’re okay.”

“I just said that I’m okay,” you laugh softly. “Bob, I’m fine.” Reluctantly, he nods, leaning back to grab at a chair. He won’t even stand all the way up, refuses to take his eyes off you lest you run off somewhere else to nearly get yourself killed.

“How’s Charlie; is he with your parents?” You nod, heart clenching at the thought of your son, how distressed he must be right now.

“Yeah,” you say, voice getting a little watery. “Yeah, I got to talk to him a little while ago. He wants to come visit after my surgery tomorrow.” Bob’s brow furrows. 

“Surgery?”

“Just my left wrist. The right one and the leg only need braces, but,” you sigh, “yeah, the left one took the door pretty hard, so.” He nods.

“How about your head? All okay up there, no bleeding?”

“I have a concussion, but that’s all. They know what they’re doing here, Bob. Don’t worry. I’m gonna be just fine.” He studies you for a moment, then sighs, nodding his head again. “Not so fun being on the other side of it, huh?” you say without thinking. It isn’t meant to be cutting, but blue eyes snap up to your face, a faint expression of shock on Bob’s features. 

Still, you have a hard time feeling too guilty. How many times have the roles been reversed? How many times have you held your baby boy to your chest murmuring reassurances that you can’t promise are true? How many times has Bob been gone, unable to tell you he was okay or even alive? Or looked up at you under the harsh white light of a hospital room on base and told you there was nothing to worry about when you both knew that there was? 

Bob schools his expression into something a little softer and gives a curt nod. You can’t decide if that was over the line. But that had always been the problem, hadn’t it? 

Neither of you had known how easy it would be to push each other over their limits. You’d thought love and a thick skin would be enough to survive the looming fear of losing your husband. Bob had thought it would be easier to outrun the guilt he always felt leaving you behind, the way it weighed on his chest like an anvil. Eventually, your wounds were rubbed raw and his ribs began to crack beneath the pressure.

The times when he was home were supposed to be precious, but they had become tense, uncomfortable. It wasn’t good for either of you, and it certainly wasn’t good for three-year-old Charlie. Splitting up had been the best choice, even though it pained you both to admit it.

Bob had been adamant about a separation rather than a divorce. Ex-spouses of the military were still entitled to some benefits, but for Charlie’s sake and yours he wanted to remain legally married. You’d both agreed that if you met other people and got serious enough, a divorce would be back on the table. It hadn’t been the easiest decision, but now, laying in a hospital bed, you can’t help but feel grateful. And how many people can say their ex husband came rushing to their side in an emergency? 

Regret is already creeping up across your skin.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, reaching to touch the back of his hand. Your fingers brush awkwardly against his skin where they protrude from your brace, but you can see the gesture means something to him–– his eyes shine a little sadly when he looks at you. He gives a faint shake of his head. 

“S’okay. Me too.”

Despite your best efforts to persuade him otherwise, Bob stays the night in your room, sleeping with his legs slung across a second chair the nurses had been kind enough to provide for him. (He’d apologized to the nurse he spoke to when he arrived, and she’d taken it rather graciously, all things considered. In her place, you’re pretty sure you would have had him thrown out.) You fall asleep fairly easily, exhaustion having taken its toll, but you wake up in the wee hours needing the bathroom. You press the call button, hoping it won’t wake your sleeping companion, but Bob rouses when Jermaine, one of the nurses, comes in. The whole bathroom song and dance is a process you certainly don’t enjoy, but you’ve gotten used to it over the past several hours. 

“Can’t get enough of me, huh?” Jermaine quips, walking to your bedside.

“I keep guzzling water when he’s not looking,” you say, nodding towards a still groggy Bob. Jermaine only laughs and pulls back the covers.

“All right, ready?” 

“Yep.” You grimace as he braces his hands beneath your armpits to help lift you up enough to get into your wheelchair. You sigh as Jermaine rolls you to the bathroom and braces an arm around your waist to help you onto the toilet. The door stands open, but you’re too drained to care–– besides, this isn’t anyone’s first rodeo.

You don’t see the way Bob’s eyes widen with worry. How he watches each maneuver carefully, filing it away in the back of his mind. The decision had been made before he walked through the door, really, but seeing you struggle only cements it. He doesn’t say anything as Jermaine helps you back to bed–– only a quiet thank you as the nurse leaves the room. He can talk to you about his plan tomorrow.

A low murmur of voices filters into your consciousness as you wake that morning, your eyes flickering open to see Bob standing with Dr. Alvarado, who will be performing your surgery. She notices you shifting in your bed and comes to your side, Bob following suit on the opposite, returning to his seat.

“Good morning, Mrs. Floyd,” she says warmly, “how are we feeling?” Your mouth is dry and you swallow thickly before responding.

“I’ve been better,” you rasp, wincing at the scrape of your voice. Bob is holding out a cup of water before you even have a moment to think, and you start to reach for it before faltering. In the fog of waking up, you’d almost forgotten.

“I’ve got it,” he says quietly, bringing it to your lips. You drink, far too worn out to protest.

“Your procedure is scheduled for 12:30 this afternoon. It’s about 8:15 right now. That’ll give you some time to rest before pre-op. I’ve also been told you have a special visitor, if you feel up for it.” Your heart lifts, and you can’t help but look expectantly up at Bob. 

“Charlie?” 

The hopeful lilt of your voice splinters something in his heart. He smiles, tight-lipped but genuine all the same, and nods. 

“Uh-huh. I know you said the plan was post surgery, but your mom called saying they were up and ready to go. I figured you’d want to see him.”

“Yeah,” you say, voice high and thin, “yeah I’d like that.” Dr. Alvarado smiles. 

“I’ll let them know. They’re all very anxious to see you.” You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks. Ordinarily, you try not to let Charlie see you crying. With the separation, you’ve been doing everything you can to be his rock. You remember how scary it was when you were a child to see your parents upset, or worse, hurt. But today, you don’t know if you’ll quite be able to manage it. Gracelessly, you swipe at the tears on your cheeks, but before long, Bob is at the ready again, tissue box extended toward you. You nod your thanks and clasp one in between your fingers. Blotting is much easier. 

You’ve just about gotten it together when the door opens again. 

“Mommy?” Charlie calls, and you hate how you can hear the frightened tremble of his voice. He makes it a few steps over the door jamb when he sees Bob. 

“Daddy!” For a heartbreaking moment, wide eyes dart between the both of you, unsure of where to run. 

“Go say hi to Daddy, sweetheart,” you say, heart swelling to see the reunion. Charlie beams and runs directly into Bob’s arms.

“Hey, big man!” he says, scooping Charlie off the ground in a strong embrace. “I missed you so much, little bear.” He presses a big kiss to your son’s cheek and is rewarded with a delighted giggle that has you crying again. Hurriedly, you dab at your eyes once more.

Your parents enter the room behind Charlie, your mother’s smile wavering and your dad’s brow furrowed. The braces make hugs awkward, but your parents’ presence is an enormous comfort.

“Charlie’s been very brave,” your father informs you. “And we’re all very glad you’re okay.”

“Me too,” you say wetly, wishing you could hold their hands. “I love you guys.”

You cast a glance over to your left, where Bob and Charlie are engaged in conversation, faces close together and voices hushed. Watching Bob parent has always made your heart ache, even now when things have fallen apart. He was meant to be a father, plain and simple. People who don’t know him might expect a Navy man to be gruff, tough on a child, especially a son. But Bob is all gentleness when it comes to your Charlie. He is patient and invested and even though you two aren’t together, it’s difficult to imagine parenting Charlie with anyone else. 

You tear your gaze away to talk with your parents, explaining what happened and asking about how Charlie has been coping over the course of the last few hours.

A few feet away, Bob has his son cradled close in his arms. 

“I was really scared,” Charlie confides in him, “but I gotta be brave for Momma.” Bob’s heart breaks just a little, and he smooths a hand over Charlie’s hair. Perhaps this instinct to protect is just built into the little boy– knowing you and Bob, that’s a distinct possibility. But Bob can’t help but worry it’s a result of the split. 

“You don’t have to be brave for Momma, honey,” he says softly. “That’s our job. Parents get to be strong for their kids, not the other way around. It’s okay to be scared when someone is hurt. And it’s also okay to express that. Especially with me and Mommy. And being strong doesn’t mean you can’t feel your feelings. In fact, being able to feel your feelings is a part of what makes a person strong, because some feelings are really hard.” Charlie listens to his father with rapt attention–– he always has. “But it’s important not to ignore them. Does that make sense?” He nods sagely when Bob is done talking.

Bob can’t help but smile, heart swelling with affection. It’s moments like these when he thinks he could leave it all if it meant getting to spend every second of every day with his baby boy. 

“Should we go say hi?” he asks, bouncing Charlie gently against his hip. Charlie nods, his gaze flickering over to you. 

Though you’re talking with your parents, you can’t take your eyes off of your son. Call it selfish, but ever since you’d been able to think straight you’ve wanted nothing more than to see him. You’re reaching out for him the second Bob starts towards you, but he gives you a look.

“With your leg?” he asks quietly, even though Charlie is right there in his arms.

“I still got one good one,” you quip,” and I think a hug is gonna help me get better much quicker. Besides, all my problems are below the knee— I’ll be fine.”

Bob has always had trouble saying no to you. 

“Be gentle, okay bud?” Charlie nods.

Carefully, he sets Charlie down in your lap, positioning him mostly on your uninjured right leg. 

“Hi baby,” you beam, the pain you’re in practically forgotten. “I’m so happy to see you!” Charlie snuggles immediately into your chest, eyes impossibly big when they look up at you. Tucking him under your arm is awkward, but you do it anyway.

“Hi Mommy,” he says quietly, like he’s afraid talking too loudly will hurt you.

“Hi,” you say again, matching his hushed voice, smile wider than it’s been for the duration of your stay. Bob stands slightly off to the side, feeling a little bit like an intruder. Still, he can’t help but watch the way your eyes sparkle when you look at your son. He’s never seen anything like it. 

A gentle hand on his shoulder catches his attention, and he turns to see your mother, her expression warm. He counts himself incredibly lucky that your parents don’t hate him. Sometimes he hates himself for what happened, and yet they still treat him like one of their own. The three of them exchange hushed greetings, each thanking one another for taking care of the two of you.

Over in your hospital bed, you’re playing with the ends of Charlie’s hair. He’s been telling you about everything that happened between yesterday afternoon and now, cheerily informing you of how much he cried and how he got to choose what he and your parents had for dinner last night. You drink in every detail with enthusiasm, grateful as ever for his enormous heart and his resilience.

“I was really scared,” he says softly after a moment. You nod.

“I bet. I was scared too.”

“Daddy says it’s okay to be scared.”

“Daddy’s right, baby. It’s more than okay to be scared. It’s important— it’s how our brains keep us safe.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. You know how I’m scared of snakes?” Charlie nods. “Well, not every single snake is dangerous, right? But there are some that are. And because my brain remembers that some snakes are dangerous, I get a little scared when I see them. That fear is my brain telling me to be careful and stay safe.”

“So I was scared because it’d be dangerous if you got hurt?”

“Kind of! It can also be scary to not know what’s happening, right? Because if you don’t know what’s happening, it’s hard to get ready to deal with it. And it can be scary to know that something sad might happen, because it’s hard to feel sad.”

“I don’t like feeling sad,” Charlie says, nodding his understanding.

“Me neither, baby bear. But today I’m not even sad, because you’re here.” Your son’s cheeks turn pink and he hides your face in his chest. Heart swelling with fondness, you cross your arms over his back in an awkward embrace and press a kiss to the top of his head.

“Is it okay if I’m a little sad?” he asks, voice muffled by your hospital gown.

“Of course it is, sweetheart. You gotta feel your feelings. And feelings don’t last forever; they change all the time, right?”

“Right.”

Out of sight, Bob swipes a few tears from his eyes. He’s always proud of Charlie, but he’s proud of you, too–– with three limbs freshly out of working order, you would be well within your rights to be out of sorts, but there you sit, still parenting admirably. Beautifully, even. Your father squeezes Bob’s shoulder and he looks up, almost a little startled. Your father smiles and the two men exchange a nod. 

Your mother steps over to your bed and pets a hand over Charlie’s hair.

“I think me and Grandpa are gonna go home for a little while, honey,” she says to him before looking at you and resting a hand on your shoulder. “Someone gave us a good scare yesterday and I don’t think either of us slept very well. We’re both a little worn out.” Suddenly, she seems to catch herself. “Unless you want us to stick around and––”

You shake your head and reach out an appreciative hand to cover hers.

“Go get some rest, Ma.” She nods.

“We will. But we’ll be back when you come out of surgery. Bobby told us he’d keep us updated.” Too tired to even think that far ahead, you nod. 

“Thanks for looking after Charlie,” you say, tangling your fingertips with hers.

“Well, that’s my pleasure,” she says, pressing a loud kiss to her grandson’s cheek. “And we can figure out next steps, we’ll find someone—“

“Mom,” you say softly, “let's just— can we take things one step at a time for now?” She nods–– the anxiety of it all reads clear on your face.

“You know, you’re right. Let’s get you through surgery first.” You nod, grateful. “We’ll see you soon, then.” Your mother smiles and turns to get her bag. Charlie giggles as his grandfather comes over to playfully jostle his shoulders.

“Be good for your mom and dad, okay kiddo?” Charlie nods eagerly.

“That’s my guy,” your dad says fondly, giving your son a hug before turning his attention to you. “You give ‘em hell in there.”

“What,” you laugh, “in surgery? Dad, it’s just my wrist; I’m gonna be fine.” He shrugs.

“Can’t hurt though, right?” he says lightly, but you can see a glimmer of anxiety in his eyes. He leans down to kiss your cheek and you return the gesture.

“Right,” you affirm, softening. “I love you, Dad. I’m gonna be okay.” Your dad gives a final nod and links arms with your mother as they leave the room. 

It’s so easy to forget that to him— to both your parents— you are still a child. Charlie is still so young, it feels impossible that he’ll ever be as old as you are now. Of course, you still marvel at the fact that he’s as big as he is; that he can walk and talk and do math equations and paint pictures. But it’s easier to manage how much he’s grown because you can still bundle him up in your arms and count on one hand how many birthdays he’s had. Maybe if you were having less of an emotional day, you’d be able to imagine what it’ll be like when he’s grown up, but you can feel tears welling up in your eyes again so you push the thought out of your mind.

“Mommy?” Charlie asks, bringing your attention back into the present.

“Mm?”

“Did Grandpa use a bad word because he’s very stressed?” Laughter sputters out of you before you can help it, and Bob raises an amused eyebrow.

“Yeah, baby,” you say, “I don’t think he was thinking very hard about which words he was choosing. He just meant that he wants my surgery to go well, that’s all.”

“It’s like telling someone to give it their all,” Bob explains, coming to sit down at your bedside again.

“It’s what Daddy does when he’s on a deployment,” you offer, curling your arm into something akin to a flexed muscle, “he gives ‘em heck.”

“And that’s what Momma’s body is gonna do when she’s in surgery. It’s gonna do everything it needs to do to keep her safe while she’s asleep.” Charlie looks between you two, worry creeping back into his features at the mention of the surgery.

“Hey,” you murmur, “I’m going to be okay, Charlie-bear. I promise. Sometimes things can go wrong during a surgery, but the likelihood of anything bad happening is very, very low.” Charlie nods, wide-eyed. “So there isn’t anything to worry about sweetheart. But it’s still okay to be scared, right?”

“Right,” comes his hushed reply. Your heart aches not to be able to soothe his anxiety, but you know there’s no sense in trying to talk him out of it–– especially in the wake of what you’ve been trying to teach him. Still, it seems to you that the rules shouldn’t apply to Charlie, with his delicate soul and enormous heart.

Bob lays a comforting hand on your son’s back and his little form immediately relaxes into the touch. The three of you sit in comfortable silence for a little while, but soon the door creaks open and Jermaine enters with a wheelchair.

“Is this Charlie?” he asks brightly. 

“It is!” you chirp. The boy in question looks up shyly. “Charlie, this is my friend Jermaine. He’s been helping me since I got to the hospital.”

“Your mom is a tough lady,” Jermaine says warmly, squatting to be closer to Charlie’s eye level. “I promise we’re gonna take very good care of her.” Charlie nods.

“Pinkie promise?” he asks, heartbreakingly earnest. Jermaine smiles.

“You got yourself a deal.” He locks his pinkie with Charlie’s and stands up. “I’ve gotta take Mom for a couple of tests before her procedure, and then we’re gonna take her off to surgery. But you’ll get to see her in a few hours when she wakes up, okay champ?” Charlie holds on to you a little tighter and peers up at his dad, who nods encouragingly.

“Okay.”

“Mom is very lucky to have people that care about her so much,” Jermaine says. “You should be proud.” A little divot of determination forms between Charlie’s brows and he nods. Bob starts to stand and Charlie clambers around to give you one last hug.

“I love you Mommy,” he says. You squeeze him as tightly as you can and press a big kiss to his cheek.

“I love you too, baby bear. I’m gonna see you so soon, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, a heartbreaking waver in his voice. You give him another kiss before Bob scoops him up again, and before you know it, Jermaine is wheeling you off into the hospital halls. 

Back in your room, Bob has Charlie wrapped up in a tight embrace.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, baby bear,” he coos, “everything’s gonna be okay.”

[starboyshoyo]

Kiss the Girl

Pairing: Riddle Rosehearts x reader (ft. Floyd Leech)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Genre: fluff, humor

Word Count: 1.5k

Housewarden Riddle Rosehearts is trying to enjoy a date with is crush on a Saturday- but a certain slippery Leech has to ruin- or help- it with a song.

Loosely based on the song “Kiss the Girl” from The Little Mermaid!

There you see her, sitting there across the way She don't got a lot to say, but there's something about her And you don't know why, but you're dying to try You wanna kiss the girl

+++

In no way did Heartslabyul Dormwarden Riddle Rosehearts ever anticipate that he would be here in Mostro Lounge, sitting across from the one person who could make his face go as red as the roses and get away with their head intact. 

Of course, there was no way for you to know the kind of effect you had on him. You are Night Raven College’s only female student and loved by all- polite, sweet, and always ready to lend a helping hand. The kind of girl that Riddle could- and did- fall head over heels for. Who was he to turn you down when you asked him to accompany you on a date on the weekend? You deserve the best in the world. And naturally, that meant him. (Well, he hopes he can be the best. At least for you).

And so now he finds himself, stiff posture and all, seated at a table with you under ambient blue lights, trying not to explode. 

+++

Yes, you want her Look at her, you know you do Possible she wants you too There is one way to ask her It don't take a word, not a single word Go on and kiss the girl

+++

He watches you shyly from across the wooden plane of the table, so close yet so far. Your knees are brushing his under the tabletop and you’re absentmindedly watching luminescent fish drift by the window. Typical Prefect, zoning out at the most inopportune moments- there must be a rule against inattentiveness in the presence of the Queen! He should have your head for that, but… he’d rather just have you.

You’re tapping a hand on the tabletop in a makeshift percussion beat. What song are you listening to in that mind of yours? He wants to reach across the distance, to take your hand like the gentleman he is, and enjoy this moment with you under the sea. But then a voice begins to hum in his ear, too soft for anyone else to pick up. The tune is familiar, a playful little love song that was often cycled through radios in the dorm’s lounge. It’s called Kiss the Girl, Riddle realizes, shoulders stiffening even more and heat rushing to his cheeks. But then- wait a minute, who’s murmuring such a scandalous thing in his ears? 

+++

Sha-la-la-la-la-la My oh my, look like the boy too shy- Ain't gonna kiss the girl Sha-la-la-la-la-la Ain't that sad? Ain't it a shame? Too bad, he gonna miss the girl~

+++

Riddle whips around and locks gazes with the young man in the booth behind him. “Will you shut up?” Riddle hisses at Floyd Leech, a mixture of embarrassment and fury burning behind his cheeks. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to enjoy an outing with Ramshackle Dorm’s Prefect here. Your off-tune blathering is ruining the atmosphere.” 

One yellow and one green eye stare back at him, narrow with amusement. “What’s the matter, Goldfish?” Floyd teases softly. “I’m not doin’ anything illegal here, just enjoying my break hour with some food and a little song.” 

“You know very well what you’re doing,” Riddle snaps back, voice as low as he could get when scolding someone. 

He glances surreptitiously back at you, but you still don’t notice. You have your hand pressed against the glass now, giggling as a small red anchovy follows the movement of your finger. Turning away from Floyd, he clears his throat, lifting his head up and straightening his posture. 

“So, Prefect,” Riddle says, painfully aware of how formal he sounds. “Have you checked the results of the standard magical exams yet? The rankings were posted yesterday in the Main Hallway, in order of subjects- I ranked first in every one, naturally.” 

You turn towards him, abandoning the little red fish to its own devices. “That sounds great, Riddle,” you smile at him. He would give anything to see that smile directed at him every day. “It must have taken a lot of effort for you to- oh?”

The boy suddenly reaches across the table and places his hand on top of yours. He hopes- prays- that you won’t pull away, and you don’t. Instead, you take it in yours without hesitation, brushing your thumb across the back of his hand. He can feel the pressure in him subsiding, being replaced by confidence every second he grasps your fingers in his. 

“It did,” he responds, ignoring the scoff from Floyd behind him. “But really, it’s no hassle at all. As dormwarden of Heartslabyul house, I need to set a good example for my peers. No Heartslabyul student has been held back since I took leadership- and I intend to keep it that way.” He finishes his speech proudly, puffing out his chest. 

Riddle sounds egotistical from the outside, but you know how much effort he puts into his studies. He’s simply talking about the thing he knows best, and you can’t begrudge him for that. “Very impressive,” you smile fondly at him, leaning forward on the table and propping yourself up with your free hand. “You really are a great leader.”

For once Riddle doesn’t care about how your elbows are on the table or how it’s not proper to be showing affection in public. He’s too busy staring at your lips. His face has gone red again as he realizes just how close you are to him. If he just leaned forward a bit he could-

“That’s enough about me!” He cuts himself off hastily. “What about you, Prefect? Tell me some more about yourself.” He nods towards the fish beyond the glass near your table. “You seem to enjoy aquatic life quite a lot.”

It’s oddly charming watching you ramble on about the fish here, speaking about the different species and even individual ones that you were particularly fond of, and have given names. A small smile begins to spread over his face, and he’s getting lost in your story- but every so often, his gaze is flickering back to your face, and your lips. And he’s all too aware of Floyd who has now moved on to softly singing the lyrics of that very same song in Riddle’s ear. 

+++

Now's your moment, floating in a blue lagoon Boy, you better do it soon, no time will be better  She don't say a word, and she won't say a word Until you kiss the girl

+++

“I see you looking at her lips there,” he murmurs to the red-haired boy. “What’s the matter, little goldfish? Too much of a coward to kiss your girl?” 

“A real gentleman will let the lady finish speaking before he does such a thing,” Riddle shoots back, moving his lips as little as possible and keeping his eyes on you, though frustration is welling in his chest. “And besides, the Prefect is not in any dedicated relationship. She’s not ‘my girl.’” Yet, he adds silently in his head. “Don’t make such preposterous assumptions.”

“Well…” Floyd drawls back, “If she’s not yours then maybe I’ll take a splash at Shrimpy here, hm? Or I could relay the message to Crabby, that freshman from your dorm. I‘ve heard he’s got his eye on Prefect here, y’know~”

Out of the corner of his eye, Riddle sees Floyd start to rise from his booth, fixing his tie and shooting a grin at him. And Riddle would be damned if he let a slimy sea-slug or that insufferable troublemaker Trappola get to you before he could. He jerks forward, leaning across the table and presses his lips to yours, face as red as his hair. 

You snap your head up in surprise- and immediately bump your foreheads- “Ow!” 

You jerk backwards, and Riddle panics. “I’m sorry!” he scrambles forward. “I’m sorry- here, let me-” Tipping ice out of his glass of water and into a napkin, he presses it to your forehead gently. Apologizing over and over, he’s well aware he’s causing a scene. Students around you two are cupping their mouths with their hands, whispering among themselves. How embarrassing for the Heartslabyul dormwarden to be caught in such a flustered state. “Do you need anything else?” 

“I’m fine, Riddle,” you say, wincing. Riddle is dying inside, the red rising in his cheeks. He’s definitely ruined this date. He’s sure you’ll send him off, tell him to go back to Heartslabyul in shame- but to his surprise, you start laughing. 

“You can stop singing now, Floyd,” you tell the slippery second-year. “I think Mr. Dormwarden here has gotten the message.” 

That’s the last straw. “You could hear him the whole time?!” Riddle yelps. His voice squeaks at the end like a child’s, but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s too busy covering his face with his hands, steam practically rising out of his ears. 

Planting another kiss on his cheek, you grin. “Of course I could hear him, dummy. I asked him to do that- how else would you have gotten the hint?”

“Glad you finally took the leap!” Floyd, leaning on a side table, puffs out a gleeful laugh. “I’ll leave you little fishies be! Brother is calling my name~”

Riddle really does puff up like a goldfish when he’s embarrassed. Cute.

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

[callsign-rogueone]

wrong to love you

Garrick Tavis x Sloane Mairi 💌: Could I request a Garrick x Sloane angst where Garrick feels guilty/conflicted about having feelings for Liam's kid sister? words: 861 🏷: Iron Flame spoilers and mentions of sex / very mild objectification. written in third person, but Garrick's POV. I promise I love ***** as much as the next guy, but somebody has to be the antagonist here. I did not think my first character x character fic would be this, but here we are -- I read this ask and nearly fell down the stairs. literally. this pairing is something I had never considered until this very moment but I’m kinda obsessed with it — I had to put everything down and write this as a stream of consciousness (no editing, just brain worms.) let me know if you want me to make this a series, I guess?

Liam was an objectively pretty guy, but seeing his features on a woman is devastating. 

It feels wrong to call Sloane Mairi a woman, but it’s the truth; she’s grown in the six years since he’s seen her, from the tagalong younger sister into a goddess; gorgeous waves of golden hair, big ice-blue eyes and long eyelashes, soft pink lips and a little button nose, defined cheekbones…

and Gods, her body -- the muscle she’s put on in training for Basgiath, the way the flight leathers hug every curve of her waist and hips, squeeze every muscle of her thighs, all that dark black contrasting with the bits of pale skin peeking out from her collar and her sleeves… 

Garrick has always considered himself a gentleman, prided himself on being a man who thinks with his head instead of his dick, but Sloane Mairi has him re-evaluating those statements. 

Definitely wrong. Undoubtedly, incredibly wrong. Well… 

She’s an adult, he reasons. A dragon rider, even. She’s capable of making her own decisions, of defending herself with both body and mind -- she’d always been sharp-tongued, even before their lives went to shit; it’s one of the things he’d liked most about her. That and her laugh, that lovely sound that he thought he’d never hear again.

Nope. Still wrong.

It should feel wrong, he decides. It is wrong. It is so fucking wrong to sit here imagining her skin on his, how easy it would be to heft her over one shoulder and carry her up to his room, how soft and small she’d feel underneath him, those gorgeous blue eyes rolling back as he— 

Stop it, he hisses to himself, gritting his teeth. If he wasn’t in public right now, wasn’t sitting in the middle of the mess hall pretending to listen to Bodhi’s blathering about gods-know-what, he’d slap himself across the face.

Liam is totally going to haunt him for this. He’d deserve it -- the bro-code applies even in the afterlife; no perving on sisters allowed, older or younger, and Sloane is definitely younger. She’s hardly old enough to drink, for godssakes.

He could really use a drink himself right now, but that might make this even worse.

“Four years isn’t that much, even in the context of your little human lifespan,” Chradh reasons, sounding like he’s enjoying this — of fucking course he is. He’s always liked watching Garrick squirm.

“What about the fact that I’m her superior officer?”

“A small ethical complication, I agree. But if you don’t stake your claim, someone else will,” Chradh muses. “Someone might have already.”

Garrick’s about to snap back, to ask him what the fuck he’s talking about, when he finally notices who she’s sitting with, whose joke she’s laughing at, who’s shoulder she’s touching. 

He’s going to bend his fork in half from how hard he’s gripping it. 

Stupid, spoiled princes and their ceaseless fucking meddling in his life. First Alic and his outspoken hatred of Garrick and the other marked ones, going as far as making an attempt on his life during threshing. He would be dead, had Xaden not intervened; Alic had the conviction to go through with it, but he’d been a coward, jumping someone who had their back turned.

And now that prick’s little brother is flirting with his girl, not a care in the world, not a thought in that pretty little head. He hadn’t even known Liam, or their parents. He has no idea what she’s been through. What business does he have giving her a shoulder to cry on, when his dear old dad had been the one to decide to execute eighty-six mothers and fathers, to orphan a hundred and seven innocent children in one fell swoop and to sentence them all to life serving the crown -- if they made it out of that deathtrap school first?

And she has no idea who he is under that little working-class costume he’s been wearing for the last four months. Aaric Graycastle. Come on. Using the first name of the last king and putting castle in the surname? Not subtle at all. 

Neither of the apples fell far from the idiot tree, apparently. If Halden is as stupid as his brothers, then Navarre is doomed. As if it isn’t already. As if it hasn’t been cursed from the moment they tried to conquer Tyrrendor. Serves them fucking right.

At least the brat had jumped ship with them and came to Aretia to finally start living on the right side of history — though that was likely due to his disdain for his father. Does every son of the royal family have daddy issues? Is it a requirement? Something they teach you at those fancy boarding schools in Calldyr? 

Maybe Sloane had been the one to convince him to come along. Maybe Chradh is right — maybe they’re already together.

So help him gods, if that little prick prince lays another hand on his girl, if he tries anything, Garrick is going to beat him to a pulp.

“I guess you’ve made up your mind, then,” Chradh says, snapping Garrick out of his rage.

“What?”  “You called her yours. Twice.”

[meekahy]

Hospital

Based on my time in the hospital. I think I'm gonna make this a small series. Let me know what you think!!!

You were feeling miserable for weeks. You had gotten sick and then gotten over it, except for a cough. Noah was about to leave for a show and told you that you should get your cough checked out while he was gone. 

Listening to Noah’s advice, you went to the Emergency Room because of the cough you had for about three weeks straight and it wasn’t going away. Once you were back in with the doctors, they listened to your lungs while you coughed and then someone brought you to the x-ray room. 

When you got back to your room, the doctor came in and told you the news. 

“So, you have a bad case of Pneumonia. From the x-ray, you have an abscess on your lung the size of a tennis ball,” the doctor told you.

“What’s the next step?” you questioned as you played with your fingers, nervous.

“The next step is going to the hospital to get antibiotic treatments and talk with the infectious disease specialist there and-” he droned on. You tried to listen, but the fact that you had to go to the hospital, for who knows how long, made you really scared. Bad Omens were out of town doing a show, so you were alone. Your phone was on like ten percent, and you left your things at home.

You took a deep breath, like Noah always reminds you, and you let it out while shaking. Trying not to let the tears fall, you ask, “Which hospital?”

And with that, the doctor tells you and calls for the ambulance. You were huddled into yourself trying not to cry when you heard a knock at the door. The paramedics arrived with a wheeled stretcher. 

“Are you ready?” one of them asked. You nodded and started to get up. The other paramedic helped you onto the stretcher and wrapped you up in blankets to keep you warm. Still trying not to cry, you listened to one of the paramedics talk in hopes of making you feel better. You appreciated that. When you got to the ambulance, they lifted the stretcher into the back of the car and strapped it in. 

It was a quick ride to the hospital. They unstrapped the stretcher from the ambulance and wheeled you to your room. Once in your bed, the nurse comes in and takes your vitals. It’s really late and you just ask if she has a charger for your phone so you can contact Noah. She returns with a phone charger and you quickly plug your phone in. The nurse leaves and you are finally alone. 

You allow yourself to cry then, pulling your legs to your chest as the tears soak your knees. After a few moments, your phone makes a noise, letting you know that it charged. Wiping your face, you quickly grabbed your phone and opened up Noah’s texts. He texted you goodnight, another message asking if you were okay, and a bunch of worried messages. You pressed the call button and he answered on the first ring.

“Angel, I was worried sick. What happened? Are you okay?” he rambled.

“I’m in the hospital. I went to the Emergency Room for my cough and it turns out that I have Pneumonia with an abscess on my lung the size of a tennis ball,” you sighed.

“Oh my god. Is anyone with you? Your roommates?” he asked.

“No, they made me go alone,” you murmured.

“What?” Noah exclaimed, “Why are you alone?”

“I don’t think they care too much, to be honest,” you breathed, before letting a tear fall.

“I’m so sorry that I’m not there. I’m going to come home early. Gotta tell the guys,” Noah blathered. 

The tears were turning into a waterfall, and couldn’t stop flowing as you said, “So, you’re coming home?” 

“Of course, baby, I can’t leave you all alone. It might be a day or two, but I’ll be there,” he promised.

“I love you,” you declared as you wiped the flood of tears from your eyes.

“I love you too, Angel. I’ll see you soon,” Noah reassured you.

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 25 - Prompt: Bad @wolfstarmicrofic

January Daily Series - 659 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Sirius shoved his way through the crowd with his gaze laser-focused on James’s dark, tousled curls. He needed an answer to this vitally important question right now and James was his moral compass. It was imperative that he check in before he made this decision.

“James!” he hissed, rushing to his best friend’s side. “Quick, what does it mean if I’m defending Remus to himself? Is that a bad sign?”

“What?”

Regulus glared from where he was snuggled under James’s chin. “It means you like him, which we already told you. Now, go tell him!”

“I wasn’t asking you.”

James sighed, then smoothed a hand over Regulus’s back. “He’s right though. You’re gone for him, mate. I don’t know why you’re defending him from himself, but that much I do know.”

“He was calling himself stupid and some other bullshite in Welsh I didn’t really understand, but was clearly ragging on himself and I couldn’t just stand there and let it go when-”

“Sirius!” Regulus snapped. “Go snog him and leave us alone.”

Sirius opened and closed his mouth twice before a frustrated whine left his throat entirely of its own volition. “But he’s from here and I live-”

“So what? It’s fine! Now go, you obnoxious git! Before he sorts out that you can’t tie your shoelaces without James’s approval.”

“That’s not true-”

James reached out and squeezed Sirius’s shoulder. “Really, Sirius. We’ll figure it out. See if this thing with Remus is worth it, then hash out the details later, yeah?”

“Yeah, alright.”

Sirius spun around and squared his shoulders. He could do this. James believed he could do this, so he definitely…probably…could?

“Go!” Regulus shouted, kicking his bum.

He stumbled forward, then shot a glare at his brother, but Regulus was fully snogging James now. Sirius grumbled under his breath before approaching his Herculean task. It shouldn’t be this hard to ask Remus on a date. The bloke practically admitted to liking him too, just not in those exact words.

Just walk over there, ask him to have a drink, and see where it goes. Easy. He might even get a cheeky snog himself for the effort, which he did want. Ever since their not-a-date lunch a few days ago, he’d thought about kissing Remus.

Then why do I feel like I’m about to pass out?

Remus was still awkwardly bopping in a sea of couples, exactly where Sirius left him. His brown beanie was askew after his fidgeting with it and a few of those honey-dipped curls were matted to the sweat on the back of his neck. More than anything, he wanted to yank that ugly hat off of his head and stroke his fingers through all of that hair.

He's not even fit, but I still want him. That has to mean something, right?

Sirius inhaled deeply, then marched toward Remus with the confidence that fled earlier marginally renewed. James said they would figure it out, and that was as good as a promise coming from him. He could do this. He could have something real for once.

“Remus,” he said, inwardly cursing at the waver in his voice. Sirius cleared his throat and tried again when he skidded to a halt in front of the bloke. “Remus. I like you and even though we live an obscene distance from each other, I’d like to try…this.” He waved a hand between them and chewed the inside of his cheek.

“This?” Remus blinked slowly as his brows furrowed.

Shite! How am I already fucking it up?

“Oh…erm, dating. If you want to, of course. I’m not assuming that you do, or anything. Just asking, sort of,” he blathered, face flushing deeper by the second.

Flirting was second nature for him, yet he’d lost every ounce of his charisma the moment those pale green eyes met his. Sirius never fell apart like this over a bloke. He could charm the pants off of anyone with little effort. Men, women, or otherwise, it didn’t matter.

What is wrong with me?

Next Part>>>

[saijspellhart]

how about heath/legault for 37

37. Kisses that shut them the hell up (Heath x Legault)

“I heard you were looking for me.”

That voice washed over Heath like the first drops of a summer rain. Chills chased relief down his spine, and made his skin tingle with anticipation. It was annoying as it was exhilarating that this man had this affect on him. He whirled around a little too earnestly to see the lavender-haired assassin slumped in the doorway he’d just stalked through.

Legault was a mess, stained bandages replaced the bandana he normally wore to hold his excessively long hair back. There were tears in his clothes, that revealed even more bandages and patches, equally soaked in blood. It was clearly a chore for the man to remain standing even with the assistance of the doorframe.

“I saw you on a stretcher… the Caelin knights carried you.”

“The stretcher came after the Caelin knights,” Legault corrected, his mouth quirked up and those tired eyes brightened, just the littlest bit. “I took a few arrows,” he admitted and attempted to straighten up against the door. He winced.

Heath caught himself moving towards the assassin on reflex. “You barreled right into a mess of snipers. Tell me you were possessed by a bout of madness, because no other explanation makes sense to me.”

Legault sucked in a breath through his teeth, and resigned himself to embracing the frame. His knees wobbled as he chuckled tiredly, “I needed to cover for my partner. Draw their fire. Besides… I dodged most of them.”

Most!? Most of them!? When two dozen arrows were being fired at you, dodging most of them meant that four or five still hit you. Heath hadn’t even seen the battalion of archers, they were so obscured in a thicket of trees. Perched in the bushy tree tops. Legault had foolishly broken cover, screaming like a banshee across a clearing, loud enough to alert Heath in the sky atop his wyvern, Hyperion. It was fortunate the Caelin knights had rushed in when they had, their armor deflecting shots.

Heath grimaced against the memory and approached the drooping rogue. “You seen a healer yet?”

“Just escaped Serra’s delicate tending,” Legault breathed out, his head pressing into the wood as he struggled to look up at the Wyvern Lord. “Heath… don’t tell me you’re worried about me.”

Heath took hold of Legault’s arm, it looked to be a place not full of holes. “Stop talking.”

“Make my heart skip a beat…if your were.” Legault completely ignored his command.

Heath hauled the quickly crumpling assassin off the door and into his side.

“You’re so fucking tall,” Legault blathered on, “trying to sweep a guy off his feet.”

“Legault, I swear to god,” Heath threatened, planting his feet so he wouldn’t throw himself off balance when he maneuvered his arms beneath Legault’s shoulders. The lithe rogue might have been smaller and willowy, but that cloak of his hid the toned, coiled muscle that Legault needed to move so silent and gracefully, performing the impossible feats of acrobatics his line of work demanded. “You shouldn’t have followed me out here. Let me help you to a bed.”

Legault slid his arms over the tops of Heath’s, his hands coming to rest on the Wyvern Lord’s shoulders. A lazy drunken smile pulled the corners of his mouth enough to show a hint of teeth. It pulled at his facial scars, bunching the skin on his cheek. “Should have taken an arrow for you sooner,” he drawled. “Had I known that’s all it would take…for you to bed me.”

“Asinine of me to think flirting with death would make you any less of a knave.”

“At least…I’m consistent,” Legault’s legs finally gave out from the blood-loss, but Heath held his weight, “your signals are as mixed as a church in a red-light district.”

Heath adjusted his hold to lift the smaller man off the ground, and began drag-carrying Legault down the hall toward the nearest room with a bed. Through gritted teeth he said, “consistency isn’t a substitute for sincerity.”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have walked back my love confession.”

Heath made a choking noise and blinked golden eyes down at the man in his arms. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m being sincere,” Legault smiled up at him. “No jokes.”

A few more steps and Heath’s back hit a door. He shifted Legault’s weight to his left arm, his knee between Legault’s legs for support, while his right hand reached down and fumbled for the door knob. “Did Serra drug you? Are you drunk off your ass?”

“Just a little bloodless. A pity, because the way ‘m straddling your thigh…it might have all gone south otherwise.”

Heath finally got the door open and hauled Legault through the threshold. “What is it going to take to shut you the hell up?”

“You’re a shrewd man, Heath,” Legault drawled, “you know how-“

“Out!” the Wyvern Lord barked.

Erk, a small mage with indigo colored hair, dropped the book he’d been reading onto the bed. His bewildered expression shot between the two men who barged into his room.

Heath fixed the man with a piercing stare and repeated the command, “Get out, I’m claiming this room for triage.”

“I’m telling, Serra,” Erk said before grabbing his cloak and travel bag, then he rushed out of the room.

“Good! She shouldn’t have let this fucking man out of the infirmary to begin with!” he yelled after the fleeing mage.

“I like it when you lose your composure,” Legault purred, his head falling to the side. “Language so unbecoming a knight.”

“I’m not a knight anymore.” Heath toed the door closed.

“Maybe not in title. But it’s still there.”

Heath moved them both to the edge of the bed. He shifted Legault’s weight again to sweep a hand across the covers, knocking all Erk’s tomes and books onto the floor.

Legault, mercifully didn’t comment about it.

“Let go of my mantle so I can get you in bed.”

“Yes sir~”

“Don’t.”

“You make it too easy for me.”

Heath made an about face, “I have but to exist and you come on to me.” He couldn’t help but notice, that rather than releasing his mantle, the assassin had melted against him even more, pillowing his head against Heath’s shoulder. The long lavender hair that cascaded down his back, was tangled with Heath’s arms.

Legault sighed longingly, “I’d take a thousand more arrows if it assured your existence a little longer.”

Heath’s traitorous heart danced in his chest. “Legault-“

The rogue scoffed and shook his head, cutting him off with, “that wasn’t even an innuendo. Listen to me spout such poetic trash. You’re not even into me, and yet I can’t help but try. I’m clearly-“

Heath dipped his head and covered Legault’s mouth with his. The whole man went tense in his arms, stunned silent. For…about two heartbeats, then Legault made a most obscene hum and kissed Heath back.

The assassin exerted himself to bury a shaky hand in Heath’s hair, fingers curling to grip the messy verdant locks. It sent shocks of pleasure from the base of Heath’s skull down his body. He hauled Legault up, tilting his head for a better angle, lips moving against his. Legault’s lips felt so cold against Heath’s, and he thought if he just pressed close enough he could impart warmth back into him.

As quickly as the kiss happened it ended. Legault suddenly felt heavier than before, a dead weight in his hold, their kiss breaking as his face lolled to the side.

“Legault,” Heath called, voice filled with concern. “Legault!”

There was no response, the man in his arms had passed out. The blood loss finally caught up with him.

0000

I hope I did these two justice. Thanks for the prompt and allowing me to practice writing their characters.

[the-delta-42]

Remember

Remember

“Don’t look away,” Growled Ganondorf, “you-”

“You don’t remember.” Said the Hylian, Link, frowning at Ganondorf.

“What?” Sneered Ganondorf, livid at being interrupted.

“You don’t remember.” Repeated Link, sighing with the Sages staring at him in confusion, “We’ve been through this time and time and time again. Since the dawn of the world and across the timelines. We know each other, more than you think.”

“I don’t know what your blathering about.” Snarled Ganondorf, as Link quietly pulled a spring from a Zonai capsule.

Link sighed, “Okay, let’s see what you do remember, because I don’t want to fight someone who doesn’t know why he’s the biggest prick in the world.”

Ganondorf went to grab his sword, when the ‘sword of legend’ flashed.

“Calm down, Fi, we’re still going to kill him.” Dismissed Link, frowning at Ganondorf, “You’re still going to die, do you remember being stabbed in the head by a child in green?”

Ganondorf stared at Link, getting another sigh, “Obviously not, how about nearly being disembowelled by an angsty looking wolf?”

Ganondorf just unsheathed his sword.

“Alright, how about drawing your sword from your servant’s chest and vanishing into another plane?” Said Link, drawing the Master Sword.

Ganondorf froze, suddenly finding himself in a throne room launching an orb of energy at a young man in green, while a princess hung in a pink crystal suspended above them. He then felt a searing pain in his chest, the man in green looked different, vastly different, but he could tell it was the same person.

“You’re starting to remember,” Mused Link, readying for the impending battle, “good.”

Ganondorf felt himself getting up from the ground, the man in green different once again, glaring up at him. He glanced at his hand, freezing at the sight of a triangle on the back of it. He shook his head and snarled at Link, “Get out of my head, you welp!”

Link dodged the swing, parrying the blade away from him.

Ganondorf was at the top of a castle, water pouring down around him, fighting two children, a princess aiming a bow at him, while a boy in green launched himself into the hair and ramming his sword in his forehead.

Ganondorf yelled, throwing himself at Link and the Sages.

R

“Link?” Asked Riju, looking at him as they examined Ganondorf’s lifeless body, “Two questions, how did he turn back? I thought the dragon-ifying thing was permanent, and what were you talking about back there?”

“Just some old history Rij.” Dismissed Link, looking at the back of Ganondorf’s right hand, “Things between him and I just span more than one lifetime.”

Zelda prodded Ganondorf’s eye with a stick.

“Zel, I’m waving his hand around, I’m sure he’s dead.” Protested Link, as he accidentally nudged the hilt of a broken sword. Ganondorf’s body twitched, getting a scream from some of the assembled crowd and an arrow to the eye from Tulin.

“For the love of Din, he’s already dead!” Groaned Link, as Tulin looked at him.

“He twitched.”

“He twi- Of course he twitched,” Yelled Link, grabbing the hilt of the broken sword, “He’s got a sword embedded in his nervous system!”

Ganondorf’s body twitched with each movement of the sword.