#I need some peace and quiet to think about this

[waaayoutofline]

Like Seeing A Ghost.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Prompt: Married life and family core.

Summary: Your teenage daughter changed styles, and you cant help but be remained of a certain someone.

Warnings: None. Just love and fluff.

WORD COUNT: 1490

AN: I wrote this under the wonderful influence of sleep depravation. I just corrected it grammatically. It’s the first time I have written a family related prompt, so sorry but it’ll probably be a bit cringey :´). YDN stands for: Your daughters name btw—

It was a quiet day in the Maximoff household, a rare sense of calm settling over the space. Humming softly, you switched off the vacuum and put it away, satisfied with the tidiness of the room. The peaceful silence was soon interrupted by the doorbell, drawing your attention with mild curiosity. “I’ve got it!” you called, making your way to the door. You didn’t need to check the peephole, you already knew who it was. “Darling, finally! Your mother is almost finished with—oh dear gods.”

You froze as your 16-year-old daughter stepped inside. Taking in her appearance, your eyes widened in surprise. She shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, clearly bracing herself for the reaction that didn’t come as quickly as she expected.

Gone were her typical morning clothes, replaced by a more alternative look. She wore an oversized black t-shirt featuring an old rock band, her arms covered in fishnet sleeves, fingers adorned with silver rings and chains. Her makeup, though still a work-in-progress, was heavy with black eyeliner and smudged dark red eyeshadow. A silver cross dangled from her freshly pierced ear. She completed the outfit with a mid-length skirt and red Converse sneakers. If it weren’t for her eyes—the same color as yours—you might not have recognized her at first. But even then, the look wasn’t unfamiliar. She resembled someone else you knew all too well.

“It’s… it’s—” you began, voice faltering. Your daughter braced herself even more, her posture defiant, though you could see flickers of uncertainty in her expression. That defiant stance finally broke your composure.

“It’s like seeing a ghost! Oh, my beautiful girl,” you exclaimed, bursting into delighted laughter. “It’s like going back in time. Wanda, darling, come here, please!” you called out, grinning at the uncanny resemblance.

Your heart swelled with nostalgia and amusement. You never thought you’d see such a familiar look on your own child, yet here she was, carrying a piece of the past into the present.

“What is it, love? Is it Y/D/N? I made her favorite,” Wanda called, wiping her hands with a kitchen towel before stopping abruptly. “Oh wow. This is… definitely a surprise.”

Your daughter, tired of the mixed reactions from both of you, crossed her arms defensively. “Before you say anything—no, I didn’t get any piercings or tattoos. But this is how I want to dress from now on. And if you have any issues with it, then…”

Your eyes softened at the sight of her defiance fading into vulnerability. You glanced at Wanda, who nodded. “Darling, you don’t owe us any explanations,” she said gently.

“I… don’t?” Y/D/N repeated, tentatively. You took a step forward, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“Of course not. You know your mom and I want you to discover who you are. All we care about is that you don’t hurt yourself in the process. Why would you think we’d be upset?”

Your daughter’s shoulders relaxed as the tension eased. “A… friend of mine dresses like this, and her parents didn’t take it well. They told her if she didn’t dress ‘normal,’ they’d send her to some creepy summer camp.”

Wanda frowned. “Well, they’re idiots.” Your daughter smiled at that. “They are! Like your mom said, we’ll never judge you for who you are. All we want is for you to be safe and happy.”

With that, she smiled and pulled you both into a hug. “Thanks for being such cool parents.” You exchanged a glance with Wanda and hugged her back.

“I mean… if we weren’t, we’d be total hypocrites.” Your daughter tilted her head in curiosity, prompting a laugh from you as you moved toward the living room.

Wanda scoffed. “Oh, don’t you dare, Y/N,” she warned playfully, following close behind, already anticipating your next move. Before she could stop you, you pulled out the family photo album. Your daughter plopped down next to you on the couch, while Wanda took her place on the armrest, wearing a mock pout.

Flipping through the pages, you found what you were looking for. “Why haven’t I seen this before?” Y/D/N asked, eyes wide with interest.

“These are from years before you were born,” you explained softly, turning the album’s pages with care. “Most were taken when your mother and I first met. We kept them hidden… because she was a little shy about them.”

Wanda playfully nudged your arm, her smile a little bashful. “Do you really have to show them? I’d like for our daughter to still respect me, you know.”

You grinned, glancing at your daughter. “Of course, I do! I mean, just look at her. You two are practically twins—it’s adorable.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, though her blush deepened. “You’re having too much fun with this.”

As you flipped another page, your daughter gasped, eyes widening in disbelief. Wanda’s face turned a deep shade of red as she quickly covered her face with her hands, her embarrassment palpable. You, however, couldn’t stop the grin spreading across your face. “Mom, why didn’t you tell me you were so cool?” Y/D/N exclaimed, her excitement bubbling over as she snatched the album from you, flipping through the pictures like a child on Christmas morning.

“What do you mean “were”?” Wanda huffed in mock offense. “I’m still cool!”

A brief silence followed, punctuated only by Wanda’s playful exasperation. You reached out, squeezing her hand, the warmth of her skin grounding both of you. The resemblance between mother and daughter was striking, as if time had folded in on itself. “That picture,” you said, pointing to a particular one, “was taken around the time I first met your mom. She was this emo, tough, and incredibly intimidating girl—” You started dramatically, glancing at Wanda, who shot you a half-hearted glare.

“Okay, okay, no need to humiliate me further,” Wanda cut in, trying to maintain some shred of dignity.

“Humiliate?” You softened your voice, your eyes meeting hers. “That was the version of you I fell in love with.” You turned another page, your tone warm and nostalgic. “I mean, the whole ‘bad girl’ thing really worked for me.”

“Mom, gross!” Y/D/N laughed, wrinkling her nose in mock disgust.

You nudged her playfully. “Oh, hush. What I’m trying to say is… I fell in love with that Wanda, and every version after her.”

With each page you turned, years passed in the photographs. Different styles, changing haircuts, moments of growth captured in still images. But one thing remained constant—your love.

“…and the next,” you continued quietly. “Because that’s what love is. It’s not about how someone dresses or looks. It’s about loving them for who they are, through every version, and with how they express themselves to the world.”

You closed the album gently and reached for your daughter’s hands, holding them tenderly. “That’s why no matter how you choose to present yourself, it will never change how we feel about you. You are our daughter, and we will always love you—no matter what.” Y/D/N smiled, her eyes bright with relief and understanding. Wanda, still blushing from your words, looked at both of you with so much love that it was almost overwhelming. A sudden thought crossed her mind, her lips curving into a small, playful smile.

“You know,” Wanda began, her voice light, “if you’re interested, I still have some of those clothes.”

Your daughter’s eyes lit up. “No way.”

“Oh yes, way. Why don’t you start by heading up to the attic? I’ll join you in a sec.”

In an instant, your daughter gave Wanda a quick, excited hug before practically running towards the stairs. You and Wanda exchanged a glance, bursting into quiet laughter. As you stood up, Wanda caught you by the waist, pulling you close, her eyes filled with nothing but love. For a moment, the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you. She leaned in and kissed you, slow and tender.

“Mama! Do you still have that red jacket?” your daughter called from upstairs, breaking the moment. Wanda sighed, chuckling under her breath as she pulled away.

“I do!” Wanda called back, her voice filled with affection. “In fact, that jacket I stole from Auntie Nat!”

Another excited shriek echoed down the stairs, and you both shared a fond look.

“I better go before she tears down the attic,” Wanda said with a small smile, taking a step back.

You nodded, watching her as she began to leave, but she paused at the doorway and turned back, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Hey,” she whispered, “I am cool, right?”

A full, hearty laugh escaped you, the sound filling the room with warmth. “Yeah, Wanda. You’re the coolest.”

Wanda grinned, the playful tension melting away as she disappeared up the stairs, leaving you with a heart full of love and a smile that lingered long after she was gone.

[harrytheehottie]

JUNO

WORD COUNT: 2K MASTERLIST this is a part of the short & sweet fic challenge @harry-on-broadway let me know what you think 💘 hope you enjoy!

The sun was casting a warm golden glow through the windows of your living room as you sat on the couch. Harry was in the kitchen making your nightly tea as you rested on the sofa. It was a peaceful evening, like many that you have shared over the last three years. This familiar feeling and routine was something you cherished especially with the hectic schedule Harry’s life could bring.

A year ago, he finished his two year long world tour. It was an incredible feat and one that was an emotional roller coaster since it began. He had his entire life planned from the minute we all went into lockdown to the final show in Italy and these last seven months were spent just making up for lost time. He was always home when you came back from work, he was the one that was traveling on your schedule and your terms. It was a great change from how your relationship was before. You didn’t have to anticipate the day that he was going to go away for weeks at a time because you were a part of that decision making now and it only made the two of you stronger as a unit. 

You glanced at the framed photos on the mantel: you and Harry in various stages over the last three years--goofing around backstage at Coachella, the night he turned his green room in MSG into a home theater and begged security to let you two spend the night after you just got off a six hour flight to surprise him for his last show. It was the simple moments that were your favorite, the picture of you walking through the Heath, a cup of coffee and pastries in tow for your favorite weekend tradition of a Saturday morning picnic. 

This was the first year that you were able to think about the future just as it pertained to you and Harry. You didn’t have to think about how your life decisions factored into anyone else's. You always knew you wanted to have a family. He was always going above and beyond for the children in his life not just by spoiling them with gifts but checking up on them and making sure they knew that he was always there. And this became more apparent when he became an Uncle. He was always the first to offer up babysitting so his sister and her partner could enjoy some quality time, even making the trek up to Cheshire to watch his cousin's children if they asked.

So, when Harry walked back into the living room with a cup of tea for you and snacks for himself you sort of blurted it out before you had the chance to second guess the right time for this conversation. 

“I’m ready to have a baby.”

Harry’s eyes widened, completely caught off guard, “What?” almost second guessing what you just said. 

You take a deep breath, your heart racing realizing that you are not going to be able to take those words back. “I’ve just been thinking, we have talked about the future a lot as this far-fetched idea but we’re here now and…” you paused looking up at him, his expression shifting from the initial shock, he leaned closer, taking your hands in his. You knew how Harry worked and the subtle shift in energy was all you needed to continue, “I know not to think, I know I’m ready… for that next step.” 

A moment of silence stretched between you as he processed your words “You really mean that?”

“More than anything,” you admitted, looking into his eyes. “I can’t imagine going through that journey with anyone else. And it just feels good right now, us, we are so good right now and there is just no reason to wait.” 

Harry’s expression softened, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind. “It’s a big step, probably one of the biggest steps we will ever take together.” 

“Will we ever truly be ready?” You chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. “Life is unpredictable, but I want this with you.I want to build a family together.”

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting to the window. “I’ve thought about it too,” he finally said, turning back to you. “I want that. I’ve always wanted it honestly. I remember the first time you met Ruby and the way she was instantly drawn to you. S’probably when the thought first crossed my mind.”

You remembered that day. You were so incredibly nervous to meet Harry’s close group of friends. It was Ruby -- his God daughter’s 4th birthday. You had only been dating for around three months at that point. You remember stressing about what to buy her as a gift and even though Harry promised no one would think twice if you showed up empty handed. You still scoured the internet looking up every list of ‘best gifts for a 4 year old girl’ and settled on a Peppa Pig Camper Playset with all the characters. And to say it was a hit was an understatement. The two of you still joke about how as soon as Ruby opened her present she demanded that you stay after to set up the toy and play with her. 

Harry remembers watching the way you were interacting with Ruby and how her father, Ben made a comment about how he had never seen Harry so fixated on someone before like he had you. It was still early days but he always went back to that moment and how it led you to where you are now. 

“So, are we ready to do this?” You asked with a mix of excitement and nervousness in your voice. 

“You know, if we really want to be serious about this. We’re going to have to start practicing.” Harry teased pulling you closer to him. The warmth of his body against yours as his lips met yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative like he was emphasizing the importance of the moment you just shared.  

You pulled away first, a smirk on your face, “Hmm.. practice? I’m feeling a little tired right now,” You teased with a wide yawn stretching your arms over your head. The playful banter that you know drives him crazy. Harry moves his hands to cup your face, his thumb glazing over your lips again, “C’mere” he whispers. He begins kissing down your neck, leaving small kisses along his path from his lips. You move your hands through his hair, as he scoots back on the couch, pushing your shirt up in the process and you help to take it off.

The kisses continue. He’s moving down your neck, between your cleavage and he stops right at the top of your stomach. His hands that were holding yours moved to touch your belly — picturing what was going to happen next. The commitment to a family and how you would be the home for his future baby. You were almost tearing up at the sight of him and just how careful he was already, always putting your needs first and making you his priority. 

“You’re gonna have to use your words, baby,” You whisper as Harry moves his hands to the waist of your pants. You are already ready for him and he knew it just by how much you were wiggling under him trying to get him to move faster.

“I want you,” he says in a low breathy tone before helping you get your pants off. You move your weight onto your forearms to get a good view of him. You watch as Harry slides your underwear to the side, a rush of pleasure washing over the both of you. “So wet for me…” leaving his lips as he moves his fingers up and down your slit. The juxtaposition of the sexyness and tenderness of the moment right as he slid one and quickly two digits in pushing his fingers in and out. The pleasure washing over your body, the whimper of ‘Oh yes’ and ‘Baby’ a moan escaping your lips as you rode out your first orgasm. 

His lips are immediately back on yours as you slide your hand into his pants pushing his joggers off trying to keep every part of your body touching. After being in a relationship for three years you still periodically used contraceptives especially when you are in the thick of it with his work never wanting anything to come in the way of jeopardizing this unspoken tension between the two of you. And tonight, was going to be and feel different, no more trying to locate the last spot you left condoms going on stretches of time of just trying the process. This was intentional and you felt the mutual giddyness as you slid your hand down his length pumping him once, twice, three times before Harry is ready for you. 

“M’not gonna last very long,” he says before aligning your hips before pushing in deep. Taking a couple of deep breaths as you move your hips along with Harry as you adjust to the familiar feeling of him inside you. Harry leans his head toward you leaving kisses all over him, your nails dragging up and down his back. 

“Tell me it feels good,” You whispered the sounds of your mutual pleasure echoing in the room. 

“Feels so fuckin’ good, always s’fuckin good” Harry was moving faste and harder meeting your gaze right before letting himself go inside you. His body collapsing on top of you as both tried to catch your breath from the pleasure. You had your arms wrapped around his body wanting to keep the warmth of his body on you forever. 

You cleaned yourselves up and spent the rest of the night thinking about your future and how you were going to take that next step forward. Harry was your safe space and you were his. You both knew that this next step forward would be unlike anything you’ve done before but you were both ready, as a team to make this next step. 

And one day, you will be in this same living room waiting for Harry to finish making a bottle for your future baby - and boy, could you not wait. 

[thinkinginpen]

Just A Guy With Claws And A Bad Attitude

a/n: Second fic in the same 24 hours? I honestly impress myself. pairing: dbf!logan x reader w/c: 4.4k warnings: age gap, smut, p in v, loss of virginity, love, kissing, romance, dirty talk, etc. summary: You and Logan are on a mission in France and decide to take a break at the hotel, eating pizza, and watching a movie when things get out of hand

You and Logan were in France, on a mission that demanded much of you. A grumpy old mutant, Logan was perpetually cranky, but you had your jobs. The two of you were to keep watch for a looming invasion, the kind to threaten mutants. Your duty: Sound the alarm.

The air felt oppressive as you two worked silently, the impending danger a constant, lurking presence. Every so often, you'd steal a glance at Logan, his grumpy face fixed in a perpetual scowl as he scanned the surroundings.

The silence was eventually broken as Logan's voice cut through the air, gruff and tinged with sarcasm. "At this rate, we'll die of boredom before the invasion even gets here," he grumbled.

You gave a small, sympathetic smile at Logan's comment, understanding his frustration but maintaining a gentle attitude.

"Patience, Logan," you replied, your voice soft and kind. "We're doing our best to keep an eye out. I'm sure we'll spot them in no time."

Logan's scowl softened a bit at your response. He grunted in acknowledgement, but the usual edge was missing from his voice when he spoke again.

"Easy for you to say," he murmured gruffly. "You're not the one stuck here without any booze to pass the time."

You chuckled lightly at Logan's remark, amused by his ever-present desire for alcohol. "A little boredom won't kill you, Logan," you said, still speaking gently. "How about we just enjoy the peace and quiet while we can?"

Logan grumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "easy for you to say" again, but he didn't argue further. The two of you continued your watch in companionable silence, the tension in the air slightly alleviated by your calming presence.

"I meant back at the hotel silly! We could do our own thing, maybe order some food and watch a movie?"

Logan blinked at your suggestion, a look of surprise crossing his gruff features. The idea of a change of pace clearly intrigued him, but he tried to cover it up with his usual grouchiness.

"Food and a movie, huh? Sounds like you're trying to spoil me," he mumbled, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You couldn't help but smile at his response, seeing past his gruff exterior to the man beneath. "Just trying to keep things interesting," you replied, your tone still soft and kind. "Think of it as a little break before the invasion starts. Besides, you need a proper meal in you anyway."

Logan grumbled again, but it was more for show at this point. He knew you had a point regarding the food - even his enhanced healing factor couldn't run on an empty stomach. Plus, the idea of a break was growing on him.

"Alright, fine," he relented, feigning grumpiness. "But I get to pick the movie."

"I don't mind at all," you responded, a faint smile on your lips.

Together, you and Logan finished up your watch and made your way back to the hotel. Once back in the safety of the hotel room, Logan immediately went to the mini fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer. He took a long swig before turning to you.

"How're you likin' being an X-Man?" He asked as he scrolled through movies.

You chuckled and took a seat on the bed, looking at Logan with a warm smile. "It's been quite the adventure," you responded. "I don't regret it one bit. Helping people is all that matters to me."

Logan hummed, selecting a movie from the list. "That's the difference between you and me, kid," he muttered, his tone more thoughtful than grumpy now. "You've still got that fire, that desire to do good. I've seen too much crap to be that idealistic."

"What's for dinner?" He asks, setting the remote down as he sits in a chair nearby the bed. Meanwhile you were sitting on the fresh white sheets.

"We can order something from room service," you suggested, reaching for the menu on the bedside table. "They've got a decent selection - pizza, burgers, pasta…"

"Pizza sounds good," Logan replied, taking another swig from his beer as he watches you flip through the menu. "Extra-large, load it up with toppings."

"And make sure they throw in some of those garlic knots," he adds with a slight smirk. "Order me a drink too, would ya?"

You chuckled softly and nodded. "Extra-large, fully loaded pizza and garlic knots coming right up. And I'll get you another beer, just for good measure," you said, pulling out your phone to order the food.

Once the order was placed, you set your phone aside and settled back against the pillows, looking at Logan who was still in his chair beside the bed. The room was quiet for a moment, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioning.

"You know, Logan," you said softly. "You may not be idealistic anymore, but you still care about doing the right thing. You just have a different way of showing it."

Logan huffed, his usual grumpy expression covering his face again, but you could see the hint of a vulnerable look in his eyes.

"Don't go gettin' all philosophical on me," he grumbled, but his voice lacked the usual bite. "I just do what I do, that's all. It ain't that deep."

You smiled softly and shook your head. "It may not seem like it to you, but a lot of us look up to you, you know? Your experience, your strength, the way you never back down from a fight… It's impressive," you said sincerely.

Logan looked at you for a long moment, his usual grumpy expression faltering slightly under the sincere compliment.

"Don't go putting me on some kind of pedestal," he grumbled, his voice gruff. "I'm just a guy with claws and a bad attitude."

A few minutes later, there is a knock on the hotel room door. Logan gets up to open it and you can already smell the scent of pizza and garlic knots wafting in from outside.

"Damn, that was quick," Logan mutters as he grabs the food from the delivery guy and closes the door again, making his way back inside with the goods.

"They definitely didn't skimp on the toppings," you note as Logan sets the boxes of pizza on the table. The pizza is piled high with all kinds of delicious ingredients, and the garlic knots look mouth-wateringly good.

"Looks like they even threw in some extra garlic sauce," Logan says, eyeing the knots hungrily. "Let's dig in."

You get up from the bed and step over to where Logan is sitting. You grab a plate and begin carefully placing slices of pizza onto it, the cheese stretching like melted strings.

As you finish, you smile softly and walk over to Logan, presenting the plate to him with a cold beer by it's side. "Here you go," you say softly. "All loaded up just the way you like."

Logan looks up at you, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. He wasn't used to being treated like this, and it made him uncomfortable in a way that was new to him.

"Thanks," he gruffly mutters, taking the plate and the drink from you. He tries to cover up the vulnerability with a gruff demeanor as he takes a bite of the pizza, the flavors instantly hitting his tongue.

You step back and grab a slice for yourself, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as you begin to eat. The pizza is hot and cheesy, the toppings blending together nicely, and the garlic knots are as delicious as they looked.

The room is silent for a moment, filled only with the sounds of you two eating. But it's a comfortable silence, the tension lessened by the distraction of good food.

Once the initial hunger is satisfied, Logan sets his plate aside and grabs the remote, switching on the television. He starts scrolling through movies, looking for one they can watch together.

"I suppose you want something lighthearted, right?" He asks, raising a brow as he continues searching through the selections. "Can't stomach any violence or something?"

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. "I can handle a little violence, Logan," you assure him. "Just nothing too depressing, alright?"

"Fair enough," Logan mutters, still scrolling through the options. He seems to find one that meets the criteria and stops scrolling.

"How about this one?" He asks, showing you the screen. It's an older comedy movie, something light and fun.

You nod in approval, recognizing the movie as a classic. "That one works for me," you say with a smile.

Logan nods and clicks on the movie, starting it up. He sits back in his chair as the opening scene begins to play, his body relaxing slightly as he sipped his beer.

You get comfortable on the bed, your back propped up against the headboard as you watch the movie. The comedy helps lighten the mood in the room, occasionally drawing soft laughs from you and even a few gruff chuckles from Logan.

During a quieter moment in the movie, Logan reaches for his beer and takes a long swig. He glances over at you and notices you're watching him with slight envy.

He smirks, his voice gruff as he speaks. "Don't even think about it, kid. You're not 21 yet."

You pout slightly, realizing you've been caught. "Oh, come on, Logan," you protest. "Just one sip. I'm not gonna get drunk or anything, I promise."

Logan's gruff chuckle fills the room as he shakes his head. "Nice try, kid, but the answer's still no. I'm not gonna be the one who gets you drunk underage." He takes another swig of beer, a smirk still on his face as he continues watching the movie.

You cross your arms and pout slightly, clearly unsatisfied with Logan's answer. "I may not be 21, but I'm an adult," you argue. "I'm allowed to make my own decisions, even if I'm not old enough to drink legally yet."

Logan rolls his eyes and takes another sip from his beer. "You're old enough to be an X-Man, not a barfly. Trust me, you'll be better off waiting a few more years before you start drinking."

Logan glances at you out of the corner of his eye, his smirk growing. "Oh, you're an adult now, huh?" He teases, his gruff voice tinged with amusement. "Just because you can make your own decisions doesn't mean they're all smart decisions, kid."

You huff, still not happy about being denied alcohol. "I'm old enough to fight in wars and risk my life for the world, but I can't have a little sip of beer?" You complain.

"Hey, I don't make the laws, kid," Logan replies with a shrug. He takes another swig of his beer, knowing full well how much it is irritating you.

As the movie continues to play in the background, you continue to pester Logan about the alcohol. But with each sip he takes, he becomes more relaxed and more willing to give in to your persistence.

Finally, he looks over at you with a grin, his eyes a little hazy from the alcohol. He motions for you to come closer, patting his lap. "C'mere," he slurs slightly.

You hesitantly get up from the bed and make your way over to Logan's chair, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension in your eyes. As you get closer, he grabs your wrist and pulls you onto his lap, his movements slightly shaky from the liquor.

He looks up at you, his gaze intense and slightly unfocused. "You want a taste, huh?" He murmurs, his voice a low rumble in his chest. He lifts the beer bottle to his mouth and takes a long swig, then pulls you closer.

Without warning, he captures your lips in a kiss, the taste of beer strong on his tongue as he lets the alcohol pass from his mouth to yours.

The kiss is intense and possessive, his hand gripping your wrist tightly to keep you close.

The taste of beer and Logan's tongue mingling together is almost overpowering, and your head begins to spin from the unexpected intensity. Your hands instinctively grip the fabric of his shirt, trying to keep yourself steady as the kiss deepens.

After a long, dizzying moment, Logan finally breaks the kiss, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. He looks at you with hazy, almost feral eyes, his grip on your wrist still tight.

"Damn, bub," he mutters gruffly. "You really need to be fixed, y'know that?"

You look at him, your breath coming in quick, shallow gasps, your world still spinning from the kiss. "What… what do you mean?" You manage to pant out, your voice shaky from the mix of alcohol and adrenaline.

"You," Logan grumbles, his grip on your wrist loosening slightly. "You're a pain in the ass, you know that? A beautiful, stubborn little pain in the ass."

He looks up at you, his eyes roaming over your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and slightly dazed expression.

"Can't just let things be, can't just relax and enjoy the moment," he continues, his voice gruff and slurring slightly more with each word. "You always gotta push, gotta test the limits, gotta get what you want."

You manage to find your voice again, your words coming out in a soft, slightly shaky whisper.

"N-no, Logan," you reply, your eyes wide and fixed on his face. "I just…just wanted a taste. I didn't expect all this…"

Logan smirks, his hand moving up to cup your chin, his touch surprisingly gentle despite his earlier gruffness.

"Oh, don't worry darlin'. I can be a pain in your ass tomorrow morning when you wake up, and the morning after that, and the morning after that," he murmurs, his voice low and rough with alcohol and desire.

His eyes roam over your face again, taking in your flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips. "If that's what you want, anyway," he adds, a hint of teasing in his tone.

"Might be a little sore, though," he continues, his smirk widening into a grin. "You up for a little soreness in the morning?"

You swallow hard, feeling the heat pooling in your stomach at the implications of his words. "Y-yeah," you manage to stammer out, your voice cracking slightly. "I…I can handle a little soreness in the morning."

Logan's grin widens even more, his eyes darkening with lust. "That's what I like to hear," he says huskily. "A little pain, a lot of pleasure. That's what you want, ain't it?"

"Yeah," you whisper, your voice shaky as you meet his gaze. "Yeah, that's what I want."

"Good," he smiled reaching for your blouse and taking it off of you.

His fingers hastily worked through his buttoned down shirt before exposing his bare chest to the cold air of the room.

You placed a hand on his thick veiny arm. "Logan..?"

He immediately stopped, sensing you having second thoughts. "Yeah bubba?"

"I-" You paused, "Do you think I'm too young? Maybe I should find someone my own age?"

He chuckled and shook his head, "Like who? A silly school boy? Fuck no, baby. Silly school boys can't do what I can."

"Logan I'm just saying-" He hushed you with a finger.

"Hush baby girl, the answer is no."

With that he closed the windows.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his lips gently. Of course, he deepened it being as gruff and experienced as he was. But you were young and had no clue how to act. You let him guide you into a bliss.

Your hands moved to his shoulders as your nails dug into his skin.

"Good girl," he muttered against your lips. "A young man can't make you feel like this princess. I can smell your arousal."

He nipped at your lips as he continued working his fingers on your pants. You felt amazing, perched on his lap, kissing this big strong man who could take care of you, as he unclothed you.

With a swift and skillful tug, your pants were suddenly on the floor, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable on his lap. His hands roamed over your bare skin, sending shivers down your spine.

Logan's breath was hot on your neck as he murmured, "So damn beautiful. Young and sweet… and all mine, princess."

You shivered as his calloused hands traced over your curves, his fingers leaving a trail of sparks in their wake. You leaned your head back against his shoulder, your own hands gripping onto his biceps for support.

"Logan," you whispered, your voice already shaky. "I…"

"Shh," he hushed you, his lips finding their way to your neck. "Don't think about anything but this, baby girl. Just feel."

You gave into the moment, lost in the heady haze of arousal and desire. You surrendered to his touch, his kiss, letting the intensity of the moment wash over you.

His lips were firm and dominating on yours, his tongue delving into your mouth with a hungry possessiveness that left you breathless. His hands roamed over your body, large and calloused against your smooth skin, each touch sending waves of sensation through you.

This was wrong. You knew it was wrong. Yet it felt so right. You were being taken, claimed, by this older, rougher man, and you couldn't help but surrender

The taste of him, the musk of his skin, the scrape of his stubble against your chin as his kiss continued to deepen – all of it was driving you crazy. You could feel yourself getting lost in him, your body responding to his touch like it had a mind of its own.

His fingers traced patterns on your skin, drawing paths of fire across your body. You were on fire, burning for him, consumed by the passion that was building between you.

You could feel the desire building, the heat between your legs growing stronger with every second. He seemed to know exactly what you needed, his hands and lips working some kind of magic on you, bringing you into a fever pitch of need.

You could feel the roughness of his jeans against your bare thighs, a reminder of the difference between the two of you – a young thing, untried and inexperienced, and a man, older and world weary, with enough knowledge to drive you wild.

His hands moved to your hips, shifting you so you were straddling him, your bodies pressed as close as humanly possible. His mouth moved to your neck, his lips leaving a trail of kisses downwards, his breath hot against your skin.

You whimpered softly as he nipped at your collarbone, the sensation sending another wave of desire through you. Your hands were tangled in his hair, your fingers gripping it tightly, holding him closer, as if you couldn't stand the thought of him moving even an inch away from you.

His kiss was dominant, his touch possessive, but there was a tenderness there, a care that you hadn't expected. It was as if he was taking care of you, claiming you, but also making sure not to hurt you too much.

The thought only made you more aroused, more desperate for him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his, aching for more. You could feel his hardness against you, a silent promise of the pleasure that was to come.

Finally, he pulls back from the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he looks down at you. A wolfish grin is plastered on his face.

"Damn, darlin'," he mutters, his voice gruff and raspy. "You're a feisty little thing, ain't ya?"

He runs a hand through his disheveled hair, his grin widening as he takes in your flushed and disheveled appearance. "Look at ya," he murmurs, his eyes roaming over your body. "All messy and needy, just from a little kissin'."

He cups your chin in his hand, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. "You like that, princess?" He asks, his tone teasing but with a hint of something deeper in his eyes. "Like the way I make you feel all riled up and wanton?"

You nod, unable to form words, your body still buzzing from the kiss and the way he was looking at you. "Yeah," you manage to whisper, your voice sounding small and breathless.

He chuckles softly, his hand moving from your chin to trail down your neck. “That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his fingers tracing a path down to your bare chest. “You like the way a big strong man like me can make you feel so small and weak. Like you belong to me.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as he pins you down on the bed, his body looming over you. He looks down at you with a wolfish grin.

"That's right, darlin'," he growl, his hands on your wrists, holding them down on either side of your head. "You're mine. Mine to take care of, mine to tease, mine to pleasure."

He holds your wrists with one hand, while undoing his belt with the other. You watch with fascination, and a hint of trepidation, as he pulls the belt slowly out of the loops of his jeans.

His jeans slid down his leg followed by his boxers.

His cock sprung free and your breath hitched. "You're getting ruined tonight, pretty girl." He whispered before pressing the head of his member to your entrance.

You whimpered grabbing onto his bicep.

The next thing you knew you were being stretched open by his length, letting out precious cries.

He wiped your tears of ecstasy with his large hands only adding to your arousal.

He pushed you further down into the bedsheets, the back of your head buried in the pillows.

His hips thrusted forward, your back arching as he let out loud grunts.

"You're doing amazing baby," he muttered into your ear. You let out a gentle moan, your hands tangling in his hair as his stubble brushed up against your cheek.

"P-please," you whispered.

A grin spread across his face, "Are you close sweetheart? Do you need daddy to fuck that cunt a little more?"

You whimpered, your nails pressing into his skin. "I-I think so... Oh god- Please just a little more Logan..."

The second you opened your mouth he was moving faster and more violently. Then his hot seed poured into you, and you were ruined.

Ruined on these white bedsheets. Ruined for the first time. Ruined, no longer innocent. Ruined by this older man.

A long gasp escaped your throat.

"Did you enjoy yourself hun?" He murmured into your ear.

"I..." You nodded. "I did, thank you."

You laid down in his arms not prepared for another round for a long while. You were still processing all that had happened.

He got up to take a shower.

After a moment of silence, you hear the bathroom door open and close, the sound of the shower turning on following soon after. You're left alone with your thoughts, your body still humming with the aftermath of what just happened.

You lie there, staring up at the ceiling, your mind swimming with a flurry of emotions. There's a mixture of pleasure, confusion, and a hint of shock at what just happened.

The sound of running water continues from the bathroom, a constant reminder of the man inside who just took you to heights you'd never before experienced.

You're still trying to process everything – the feeling of his body against yours, the way he moved, the way he made you feel. The way he called you 'his.'

You listen to the sounds of the shower, the water drumming against the tiled walls. You can picture him in there, the soap suds running over his muscular, scarred body, the steam rising around him.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the shower stopping, and the bathroom door opening again. A moment later, Logan appears in the doorway, steam billowing behind him. He's got a towel wrapped around his waist, and his hair is damp and tousled.

He grins when he sees you on the bed, sprawled out and still recovering from the intensity of it all. "Hey there, princess," he says, his voice low and gravelly. He walks over to the bedside and looks down at you with a hungry gaze.

"Looks like I wore you out," he chuckles. He reaches out and brushes a strand of hair out of your face, his touch unexpectedly gentle.

"But you look damn cute all worn out," he adds, his smirk growing wider. He lowers himself onto the bed beside you, his weight causing the mattress to dip under him.

He props himself up on one elbow, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in the sight of you, still naked and flushed in the aftermath of their encounter. “You doin' all right, baby girl?”

You nod, managing a slight smile. "Yeah," you whisper, your voice still a little hoarse. "I'm just…processing everything, I guess."

He pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you against his chest. You can feel the warmth of his skin against yours, the heat radiating from him like a furnace.

He nuzzles his face into your hair, inhaling deeply. "You smell good, princess," he murmurs, his voice low and gravely.

"And you're so damn soft," he continues, his free hand roaming over your bare back. "So soft and warm, just like a little kitten."

You shiver slightly at his touch, the sensation both comforting and arousing. You press yourself closer to him, relishing the feeling of being enveloped in his strong arms.

He continues to murmur in your ear, his words now growing more heated. "And that little body of yours….so tender, so responsive, all for me," he whispers, his voice a low rumble in your ear.

His hand runs down your spine, sending little jolts of electricity through your body. "You're mine now, princess," he whispers into your hair. "All mine. My sweet, little thing."

He wraps both arms around you, holding you close to his broad chest. You can hear the steady thump-thump of his heartbeat, a comforting rhythm in the quiet room.

Wrapped up in his embrace, his warmth and strength surrounding you, you feel safe and cared for. The worries and fears of the mission fade away as your eyes grow heavy.

Before you know it, you're slipping into a deep and peaceful sleep, your breathing slow and steady, your body completely relaxed in Logan's strong arms.

🏷️: @vintagemoss

[storiesfromafan]

Rumours - Buck x Reader

A/N: okay, this is my first attempt at good old Gale 'Buck' Cleven, so please be nice 😅 And I am sorry in advance if its not that good haha.

Warnings: angst, possible grammer and spelling mistakes

Prompt: “You think I wanted this to happen? You think I, of all people, wanted to fall in love with you”

Tag list: @strayrockette

When you signed up to be a nurse during the war, you had been scared of what you would see. And see you did. Many times you questioned why you did it. But meeting both Buck and Bucky, you understood why. They were funny and sweet guys. Buck the more level headed one, while Bucky was a wild card. You never know what he would do. You did what you did for them, and men like them. They needed someone that was like home while doing what they did and through this war.

They took you into their circle. Making it hard to say no to their company, which you were grateful for after a long day after being on stand by, as those injured came in for treatment. The hurt and broken men you saw, it was heartbreaking and soul crushing. Yet you did your job. Helping Doctors and tending to those in recovery.

Over time you found yourself having a silly crush on Major Cleven. And when it turned to something more – love – you thought yourself foolish. He had a sweetheart back home, waiting for him patiently. So you put those feelings away, in a box which you locked and hid the key.

Unfortunately, a few of the other nurses, ones who you think fancied Bucky more than Buck, had it out for you. For rumours started to make the rounds about you and your affections. The way eyes would watch you as you entered a room. Silence falling between those that had clearly been conversing before your arrival. And then when you heard what they were saying, it hurt. It hurt because these people, whom you thought highly of, had tarnished your reputation.

“She's trying to steal another woman’s man, how shameless".

“I heard she's thrown herself at Major Cleven and Major Egan. It's why she's always with them".

“I always thought she had no morals. She’s always too friendly with the Doctors".

That was just some of the stuff you'd heard. So you took to distancing yourself from everyone. Only being present during your shifts, meetings or at meals. Otherwise you were in your quarters, walking around the base or going into town. It was lonely being separate from everyone. But you didn’t want to stir any new gossip.

Currently you were taking a walk around the base, enjoying the nice weather. You had been over worked the last few days, having a moment like this was just what you needed. In the distance you could hear the air crafts being worked on. But other then that, it was quiet. A contrast to back home and where you lived.

If only your peace was to last. Coming up behind you, as you were looking off into the vast open area and the blue sky, was Buck. He looked worried as he studied you. It felt like forever since he had spoken to you. He was concerned about you and how you were taking the rumours going around base. Ones which he and Bucky had been working to clear up.

You heard the rustle of grass from moving feet. But you remained where you were, waiting to know who it was. You had a fifty-fifty chance on knowing who it was, though you hoped it was Bucky.

“Hey" came Buck's soft voice. And squashing your hopes on Major Egan.

“Hi" you replied, still not turning around.

There was a moment of silence between you both. You hoping he wasn’t here to talk about what people were saying. While Buck was trying to think of how to say what he was thinking. He wanted you to know he didn't believe what was being said, that he knew you were a nice and good woman who didn't deserve this slander.

“Look, about what I've heard” Buck began, making you stiffen. “I don't believe what anyone has been saying, you know that right? You're not that kind of woman".

You nodded your head slowly. “W-what have you heard?” You asked, not entirely wanting to hear his answer.

Placing his hands on his hips, Buck looked down, unsure if he should answer your question. “Let's just say what I heard, I didn't like. And both myself and Bucky have been doing our best to shut it all down".

That was when you turned around, a sad but thankful smile on your face. Seeing your face and how worn out you look, it pulled at Buck's heartstrings. He could see you were tired, but that was due to the busy last few days. But also he could see the toll how this whole rumour thing was taking on you. When you distanced yourself, it broke his and Bucky's hearts.

They had come to enjoy your company, and your spirit. The three of you always finding something to talk about or laugh at, though it was usually at Bucky's antics. He never understood how women could be so catty. But in some cases, men are just as bad.

“Everything will be alright" Buck said, looking you in the eye. “Give it a few days and it should start to go back to how it was...”

You frowned. “I'm afraid the damage is done Buck. Even if people aren't saying it, they'll be thinking it. I'll be surprised if I don't get pulled in for a meeting over it...”

“Bucky and I will stand up for you".

“That might not be a good idea. It may only make it worse" your voice weary, eyes falling to the ground.

“But none of its true, right?” He questioned, hoping he sounded worried and not accusing.

You should have said no right away, though it might have given him the wrong idea. But the prolonged silence didn't help either. You avoided his eyes as Buck tried to meet them. You turned away from him and wrapped your arms around yourself.

“(Y/N), none of its true...?” Buck repeated himself, now with worry.

You sighed. “No...except for one thing...”

Buck moved closer to you. “What is true? You have to tell me so I, Bucky and I can help".

Thinking he was going to place a hand on your shoulder, you flinched, taking a few steps back. “I-it's embarrassing...and childish...”

Buck remained silent, urging you with his eyes to go on.

You sighed. “I-it's my feelings...for you" you ended on a whisper.

But Buck still heard it. He had heard how some women had gossiped about you being in love with him. And he had found it ridiculous. You were friends, that was it. So he had thought. But now, from your admission, those women had been right. Which didn't help the unease he was feeling over it all. He felt angry that they had spread your true feelings. Feelings you had kept to yourself, never acting on. Unlike some women he had seen. They were more shameless then you.

“I see...” he stated, voice calm and gentle.

“Yes...now you know how silly I am" you started, feeling tears rise in your eyes. “How silly I am to be in love with you. When I know I shouldn't".

“It's alright" Buck said reassuringly. “It happens...”

Those words hurt, like a slap to the face. Like he was trying to play it off, or sweep it under a rug. Like it didn't matter. Well it didn't, but some kind of assurance would have been nice. But in stead, Buck was keeping you at arms length over it. And it sparked different emotions in you; anger, frustration, hurt and sadness.

“You think I wanted this to happen? You think I, of all people, wanted to fall in love with you” you said with a strained voice. Tears in your eyes, which you were managing to hold back for now.

The look on Buck's face was like pity, how his eyes looked guilty and in despair. “(Y/N)...” his voice soft and weary.

“No Buck, don't" you held up a hand. “I don’t, can't hear it". A tear escaped and ran down your cheek. “I don't want to hear your kind words, as you let me down...I know you have Marge. And I shouldn't have let myself get carried away with being around you and Bucky. But you were both nice to me, the company that I needed. Yet I let my feelings get away from me...”

You dropped your hand, your shoulders slouching slightly as you looked down. Unable to face the gorgeous Major who'd stolen your heart. From the dashing smile, to his warm heart dancing with Meatball, and everything in between. Major Gale Cleven was the man of your dreams, but he belonged to another. A woman that Buck spoke fondly of on the nights when you had to bunker down as bombs went off near by. A woman that made you feel less than in just about every way, except being a nurse during the war.

“Marge is a lucky woman...” you stated with a small laugh. “You're lucky to have a woman like her waiting for you back home...no doubt you'll both be happy" you voice dropping at the end.

It was silent after that. You having said your piece, something that shouldn’t have been aired out, if it wasn’t for the other nurses. Buck was quiet because he was processing your words. Which struck a cord in him. And dare he say that he felt for you. Over this time together, bonded in the worst way, he had grown closer to you. He sort out your company and spirit, especially after returning from a mission that was tough. He revelled in your sunshine. Seeing you like this hurt his heart.

Neither knew what to say after all that. Buck had opened his mouth and closed it a few times. Hoping when he would go to speak the words would come to him, but there was nothing. He should have agreed with you, and said he appreciated your affections. But he couldn't. Because a small part of him liked this, and wanted it from you. And even a part of him at one point had entertained the idea of you.

But he let it be just that, a thought. He had a girl back home waiting, a sweet thing who wrote him letters and cared. Could he really lose that? Or juggle both? No, he wasn't that kind of guy. Yet Buck had feelings for you, that weren't entirely friendly.

“F-forget this ever happened Buck...” you said softly, so softly that Buck wondered if you spoke at all.

And with that, you took your leave. Heading back to your room. Back to solitude and your thoughts. It wasn't great, but its all you had till either people stopped being asses. Or the war was over. Which ever happened first.

[kiwriteswords]

HI! May I ask for the drabble prompts: Getting engaged/married?!?! Pretty please? 💜

Hi!! Thank you!!! Hope you enjoy this short drabble!

Drabble Prompts | Other Writing | Ao3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader!

Word Count: 1.6k

Rating: Everyone

TW: engagement, fluff

If every word I said, could make you laugh, I'd talk forever

It wasn’t anything grand. There were no rose petals scattered along the floor, no candlelit dinners at fancy restaurants, and no elaborate speeches rehearsed for weeks. No big romantic gestures that screamed, “Look at us!” No beaches or fancy trips. Aaron had never been one for theatrics, and he knew you weren’t either. Instead, the moment was quiet, simple, and intimate—reflective of the way your relationship had always been.

Aaron understood you better than anyone, knew that your heart didn’t crave the extravagant or the public display. You weren’t someone who wanted a grand proposal in front of a crowd, with cameras snapping and strangers cheering. You didn’t need the sweeping, cinematic gesture that so many people longed for. All you wanted was a moment that belonged solely to the two of you. And Aaron, ever thoughtful, ever in tune with you, had made sure that’s exactly what you got.

The world around you could have been completely still for all you cared. Wrapped in the familiar comfort of your living room, there was no need for anything more than what already existed between you. The dim glow from the lamp in the corner illuminated the room, casting soft shadows along the walls as you sat side by side on the couch. Your favorite blanket was draped over both of you, its warmth only adding to the quiet intimacy of the night. There were no expectations here, no pressure to perform or impress—just the pure, unfiltered connection between you and Aaron.

You didn’t need rose petals when you had the security of his arms around you every night. You didn’t need the formality of a planned-out dinner when the simplest meals shared between you had always held more meaning. No beach or vacation getaway was necessary because life was not something you needed to escape or take a break from with him. And you certainly didn’t need flashy rings or choreographed declarations when Aaron’s love had always spoken for itself, in every look, every touch, every quiet reassurance.

That’s why this moment, the one without the bells and whistles, was perfect. It was yours.

Aaron knew this wasn’t just any proposal—it was a reflection of who you were as individuals and as partners. It was a testament to how your love had grown, grounded in authenticity, built on trust, and shared through the smallest of gestures. It wasn’t meant to be a spectacle, but rather a quiet promise, a forever that didn’t need to be shouted, just softly spoken.

Aaron was certain this was what you would want too. If you were the grand gesture type, he would have put on a show for the world to see. But over the time spent together, he listened in and carefully asked without showing too much of his hand and plans. He still wanted it to be a surprise, afterall.

In this simplicity, there was a beauty that no grand gesture could ever match. Because the love between you didn’t need to be proven with fireworks or over-the-top declarations. It had already been proven, time and time again, in the everyday moments, the ones that truly mattered.

The two of you were sitting on the couch, your legs draped over his lap while a blanket cocooned you both from the chill of the evening. The TV flickered in the background, a rerun of some show you weren’t really paying attention to, too engrossed in the peaceful moment of just being. Aaron’s fingers traced absentminded circles on your ankle, a habit he’d picked up when you’d first told him it helped calm your nerves.

"I’ve been thinking," he started, his voice cutting through the comfortable silence.

You tilted your head to look at him, your eyebrows quirking up with curiosity. "About?"

Aaron smiled that soft, small smile—the one that always made your heart flip because it was reserved for these moments, the ones where it was just the two of you. No cases, no danger, no need to keep his guard up.

"About forever."

His words hung in the air for a second, and your heart skipped a beat. The way he looked at you right then, like you were the most important thing in his world, left no room for doubt.

Before you could respond, Aaron shifted, reaching into his pocket. Your breath caught in your throat when you saw the small velvet box in his hand. He didn’t drop to one knee, didn’t make some rehearsed speech. He just opened it and held it out to you, eyes full of love and certainty.

Oftentimes, when you would imagine this moment happening to you—from as early on as childhood, you thought you might feel a deep pit in your stomach. A sense of panic…uneasiness. But those feelings you could have bet money on years before Aaron being there, were nowhere to be found.

"Will you marry me?"

It wasn’t a question filled with uncertainty, but a promise. You knew Aaron didn’t ask unless he meant it with his whole heart. He wasn’t perfect, but neither were you. Together, though, you’d become something that was.

Your hand trembled as you reached for his, your fingers sliding over his before you nodded, barely able to get the words out through the lump in your throat.

"Yes."

He slipped the ring onto your finger, and you swore you saw his eyes glisten, just for a second, before he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss wasn’t hurried or passionate—it was gentle, steady, the way you imagined a lifetime with Aaron would be.

"Thank you," he whispered against your lips, the words barely audible, as if they were meant to be spoken only in the sacred space between you. His breath was warm against your skin, and as he spoke, you could feel the weight of everything unspoken in those two simple words.

Aaron wasn’t the kind of man to voice his feelings often. He didn’t need to—his actions had always done the talking. From the way he protected you, to the way he made sure you were safe and loved in the quietest ways possible, his love was always there, constant and unwavering. But in this moment, with his lips still brushing against yours, he let his guard down just a little more.

He pulled back, but only just enough so that his forehead rested against yours. It was an intimate gesture, a connection more profound than any words could convey. You could feel his breath mix with yours, his closeness grounding you in a way that nothing else could. This wasn’t just about the proposal—it was about everything that had led up to this point: all the shared moments, the silent battles fought, the laughter, the tears, the love that had slowly, but surely, become the bedrock of your lives.

The warmth of his skin against yours, the soft weight of his forehead pressed gently to yours, spoke volumes. It was as if, in that small act, he was telling you everything he had yet to say: how much you meant to him, how you had brought light into his life in ways he never expected after all the darkness he had seen.

You closed your eyes, savoring the moment, feeling the unspoken emotions swirling in the space between you. "Thank you" wasn’t just gratitude for your answer, for agreeing to spend forever with him. It was deeper than that. He was thanking you for being—for being patient with him, for loving him despite his flaws and the baggage he carried. He was thanking you for bringing joy back into his life, for making him believe in the possibility of happiness again after everything he had endured.

Aaron wasn’t one to easily let others in, not after the pain he’d experienced, not after losing so much. But with you, it had been different. You had quietly slipped into his life, not demanding anything, just offering yourself, your love, your understanding. And now, in this intimate, quiet moment, he was thanking you for all of it—for giving him hope again, for making him believe that there could still be good things waiting for him in the future.

Your hands found his, fingers lacing together, and in that stillness, in the closeness of your foreheads pressed together, you both knew this was it—not just the engagement, not just the promise of marriage, but the deeper promise of always being there for each other, of being a safe harbor in the storms of life, of forever, in the quietest, most meaningful way.

"Thank you," he had said, but what he truly meant was, Thank you for showing me love again.

"For what?" you asked, your voice a bit shaky from the overwhelming emotions. You felt as if you should be thanking him. Thanking him for all he had shown you. Thanking him for loving you so both tenderly and fiercely.

Over your time with Aaron, you knew the idea of marriage could be a touchy subject…one you were okay with never crossing, never moving forward with. You knew everything that happened with him and Hailey. You were okay with not disrupting that side of him that could equate marriage with pain. Yet here you both were, more certain and more comfortable with the idea than ever.

"For making me believe in forever again."

And just like that, in the softest moment, surrounded by nothing but the warmth of his presence and the quiet hum of your love, you found your forever.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos

[rootedinrevisions]

Enough for You: Part 3

SUMMARY: After he showed up unexpectedly at your door trying to make amends, you and Tyler spend a cozy evening together, starting with making dinner in the kitchen as light banter fills the space. After a fun and easygoing meal, the two of you curl up on the couch to watch TV, enjoying each other's presence and sharing quiet moments. As the night winds down, you ask Tyler to stay the night, feeling comforted by his warmth and company. Tyler, happy to stay, holds you close as you both drift off into a peaceful sleep, deepening the bond that has grown between you.

WARNINGS: Fluff.

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

OTHER PARTS: PART 1 I PART 2

NOTE: There will be a PART 3! I have it mostly written and just need to finish editing it. Part 2 got away from me so I decided to break it up as to not have one crazy long fic.

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @callsign-diva I @starshinegrl I @willowpains I @beltzboys2015-blog I @fanficmom94 I @smoothdogsgirl I @djs8891

Later you and Tyler had settled into the comfort of your couch as the world outside seems to fade away. The warmth of his presence next to you, the way his hand rests on your knee, and the steady rhythm of his breathing create a bubble of serenity around you. Time feels like it’s slowing down as you both get lost in the closeness and talk. The tension from the past week melts away as you slowly lean your head on his shoulder. You hadn’t planned to spend the past few hours on the couch with him, but it’s as though neither of you can bear to let go of the other.

It isn’t until the soft grumble of a stomach fills the silence that you both freeze, then exchange an amused look. 

"Was that you or me?" Tyler teases with a chuckle, his hand giving your knee a playful squeeze. 

You can’t help but laugh, realizing how long you’ve been so engrossed in each other that dinner slipped both your minds. “I guess we kind of forgot to eat,” you say, grinning up at him. 

"Guess it's time to get out of this cocoon and figure out dinner, huh?" Tyler jokes, but neither of you seem quite ready to move.

Tyler glances around your apartment and then nods toward the kitchen. “How about we cook something here? I’m no chef, but I think I can handle pasta this time.”

You raise an eyebrow, the memory of his past cooking adventures making you smirk. “Are you sure you’re up for the challenge? Last time you tried to make pasta, we almost had to call the fire department”

He laughs, shaking his head. You bite back a smile, feeling a sense of ease wash over you as you both drift toward the kitchen, the earlier tension between you replaced with a playful energy. It feels natural—like slipping back into a rhythm you didn’t realize you missed. Together, you start pulling out ingredients, ready to tackle dinner as a team, side by side.

“You’re actually going to follow the recipe this time, right?” you tease, referencing that one infamous night with the team when his attempt at cooking had been… less than successful.

He rolls his eyes dramatically but grins, a mock-serious tone in his voice. “I promise, no improvising tonight. We’re sticking to the directions like my life depends on it.”

You laugh, stepping up beside him as he starts boiling the water. Together, you work on the sauce—chopping garlic, stirring in tomatoes, and adding the perfect amount of seasoning. The kitchen fills with the rich, savory aroma, and the easy banter between you feels as natural as breathing. You catch him stealing glances at you now and then, the soft kind of looks that make your heart skip a beat.

At one point, you’re standing close, both concentrating on the sauce. Tyler hands you a spoon and nods toward the pan. “Go on, taste test. Let’s see if we nailed it.”

You take a bite, humming in approval, but before you can respond, Tyler’s gaze sharpens. His lips twitch into a grin. 

“You’ve got a little… right there,” he says, gesturing to your lower lip where some of the sauce must have landed.

Before you can wipe it away, Tyler steps closer, his eyes fixed on yours as his hand reaches up. His thumb brushes gently against your lip, lingering for just a second too long. There’s a charged silence, the air between you suddenly thick with tension.

Then, in one smooth motion, Tyler’s lips hover over yours. Instead of wiping the sauce away, he closes the distance and gently kisses it off, his lips brushing yours in a brief, heated moment. His mouth lingers for a beat, as if considering whether to deepen the kiss, but he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes.

You feel your heart race as his thumb traces a light line across your lip, and you both let out soft laughs to ease the tension, though neither of you moves far away from each other.

“Well, I’d say that’s pretty good,” Tyler says, his voice low, and the double meaning doesn’t escape you.

After a second, you step back, breaking the tension with a smile. “Let’s see if the rest of the meal lives up to that standard.”

You sit down together at your small dining table, a cozy space that feels perfect for the two of you. The pasta is simple, but delicious, and you both dig in, the conversation flowing effortlessly.

Tyler leans back, twirling his fork in the pasta. “So, be honest… was the sauce better than last time?” he asks with a grin, clearly referring to his past kitchen disasters.

You smirk and tilt your head. “It was way better. This time, I didn’t feel like I was risking my life.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I’m never living that down, am I?”

“Nope,” you say with a grin, taking another bite. The warmth between you isn’t just from the food—it’s from the way you feel sitting across from him, sharing something simple, yet meaningful.

The conversation meanders from lighthearted memories of the team to more personal things. Tyler shares a little about his week, and you talk about yours. Every now and then, he’ll throw in a joke that makes you laugh, and each time, his smile grows wider, like your laughter is exactly what he needed to hear.

At some point, the meal slows down, and the pauses between words become longer. But the silences aren’t awkward—they’re comfortable, filled with the sound of utensils against plates and the occasional soft smile exchanged between you both.

Tyler leans back in his chair, watching you for a moment before speaking. 

“This feels good,” he says quietly, almost to himself. His eyes linger on yours, and you know he’s talking about more than just the dinner.

You nod, your heart swelling with a quiet happiness. “Yeah,” you agree softly. “It does.”

With dinner finished and the dishes stacked in the sink, the atmosphere between you and Tyler has settled into something soft and warm, like an easy current pulling you both along. The quiet hum of the street outside your apartment window is a gentle backdrop as you both make your way to the couch, the leftovers tucked away and the weight of the evening hanging in the air like a comfortable blanket.

You grab a couple of throw pillows and settle into your usual corner of the couch, feeling the softness beneath you as Tyler sits next to you, his arm casually resting along the back. His presence feels different tonight—not distant, not guarded—just close. Like the space between you both has finally disappeared, leaving only a warmth that feels entirely new but somehow familiar.

“You know,” Tyler says, leaning back, “this is probably the most relaxed I’ve felt in a while.” He tilts his head toward you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Though that might be the carbs talking.”

You laugh, the sound light and effortless. “I guess a successful meal can do that.”

His eyes twinkle. “I told you I’d follow the recipe this time.”

There’s a pause, the kind where neither of you feels the need to fill it. The quiet hum of your living room lamp and the distant sounds of life beyond your apartment windows make the world feel small, like it's just the two of you in this cozy bubble. You pull your legs up underneath you, feeling the comfort of the moment settle in.

Tyler glances over at the TV remote sitting on the coffee table. “Movie?” he suggests, though there’s an undertone in his voice that says he’s just as content to keep talking, to keep soaking in this rare and quiet space you’ve found together.

“Yeah,” you nod, reaching for the remote. “Something light.”

As you scroll through your options, you feel Tyler shift closer to you, his knee gently brushing against yours. It’s subtle but enough to send a pleasant warmth coursing through you. You glance over and catch him looking at you, his expression soft, almost thoughtful, as though he’s savoring every second of this moment.

“You pick,” he says softly. “I’ll watch whatever you want.”

You smirk and raise an eyebrow. “Even if it’s a rom-com?”

He chuckles, leaning back. “Even if it’s a rom-com. I’m trying to earn brownie points here.”

You laugh, and before long, you settle on a movie—a lighthearted one neither of you has seen before. But as it begins to play, you find that you’re more aware of Tyler’s presence next to you than anything happening on the screen. 

His arm eventually slides down from the back of the couch, wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you gently into his side. The contact is natural, easy, like he’s done it a thousand times before. And maybe, in some alternate version of your life, he has.

For a while, neither of you speaks. You just sit there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the glow of the TV casting soft shadows around the room. At some point, your head naturally leans into his shoulder, and his fingers trace light, absentminded circles on your arm. You feel his steady breathing, his heart beating in rhythm with yours.

Tyler’s voice breaks the quiet after a while, soft and almost hesitant. You tilt your head slightly to look up at him. “I’m really glad I came tonight.”

His words are simple, but the weight of them lingers. You feel a swell of warmth in your chest, and you nod, a smile spreading across your face.

“Me too.”

He holds your gaze for a moment longer before pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. It’s tender, full of unspoken promises that neither of you are rushing to put into words just yet.

The movie drones on in the background, but for the rest of the night, the only thing that matters is the quiet, cozy space the two of you have built together—one that feels like it’s always been waiting for this moment.

As the credits roll on the movie, the soft hum of the television is the only sound in the room. You glance over at Tyler, who’s been quiet for the last few minutes, his arm still wrapped comfortably around you. The warmth of his body feels like an anchor, keeping you grounded in this perfect, simple moment.

Tyler shifts slightly, and with a gentle touch, he reaches up and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger there for a moment longer than necessary, his eyes searching yours. “You okay?” he asks softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he’s afraid to disturb the peace you’ve found together.

You smile, a soft, genuine smile, and nod. “Yeah,” you whisper back, the word carrying more meaning than its simplicity suggests. Everything feels right in this moment—more right than anything has in a long time.

Tyler’s eyes flicker with something deeper as he leans in, brushing his lips gently against yours. The kiss is slow, tender, as if he’s savoring it, committing every second to memory. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and he asks again, quieter this time, “You sure?”

You look up into his eyes, feeling a rush of emotion well up inside you. You could pretend to be calm, but the truth is, this moment feels like a turning point, like everything you’ve been waiting for is finally within reach. “I don’t want you to leave,” you confess, your voice soft but filled with vulnerability. The words hang in the air, delicate and full of meaning.

Tyler pauses for a beat, his thumb brushing gently along your cheek. His gaze holds yours, as though he’s searching for any hint of uncertainty. “I can stay,” he says, his voice low and careful, “if you want me to.”

You feel your chest tighten at the tenderness in his words, and you nod, your heart racing. “I want you to stay,” you murmur, the vulnerability in your voice now mirrored by the warmth in his eyes. 

You smile, and without saying anything more, you take his hand, leading him down the short hallway to your bedroom. Once inside, the atmosphere shifts slightly—more intimate, more real. You reach for a pair of soft pajamas while Tyler tugs off his shirt, the sound of fabric falling to the floor barely registering as you change. When you turn around, you find him standing there, stripped down to his boxers, watching you with that same look in his eyes—like he’s seeing you for the first time.

You both climb into bed, the sheets cool and inviting. Tyler lies back, his arm automatically reaching out for you, an open invitation. Without hesitation, you curl up into his side, your head resting on his chest as his arm wraps around you, holding you close. His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, a calming rhythm that makes you feel completely safe.

For a few moments, the two of you just lie there, the silence between you filled with the kind of comfort that doesn’t need words. But eventually, Tyler’s fingers start tracing lazy patterns on your back, and his voice breaks the quiet.

“This feels good,” he says softly, his breath warm against the top of your head.

You nod, your eyes half-closed, the weight of the day finally catching up with you. “It does,” you agree, your voice thick with sleep.

There’s a brief pause before Tyler speaks again, quieter this time. “I’ve missed you.” His fingers continue their gentle path along your back, his voice carrying the weight of everything unspoken between you.

You tilt your head slightly, just enough to look up at him. His expression is soft, and in the dim light of the room, you can see the tenderness in his eyes. “I’ve missed you too,” you admit, the words coming out in a sleepy murmur as you feel yourself beginning to drift off.

Tyler’s hand stills on your back, and you feel him press a gentle kiss to the top of your head, the warmth of his lips lingering against your skin. “Get some sleep,” he whispers, his voice barely audible now. “I’ll be right here.”

And with that, you let the last of your worries fade away. You’re safe, comfortable, wrapped up in Tyler’s arms. The world outside can wait—right now, all that matters is this moment, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you, and the warmth of his body next to yours.

Tyler stays awake for a few minutes longer, watching as your breathing evens out and your body relaxes against his. A small smile tugs at his lips as he presses another kiss to your forehead, his heart full. “Sweet dreams, beautiful,” he whispers, though he knows you’ve already fallen asleep. He closes his eyes then, pulling you even closer as he finally allows himself to drift off too, knowing that when morning comes, you’ll still be right there, next to him.

[cluelessteam]

Whispers Through Time: {~Shadows of Suspicion~}

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Word Count: 1383

Tag List: @snowtargaryen

Chapter 6 --- Chapter 7

The tension in King’s Landing was mounting.

You could feel the shift in the air every time you walked through the castle’s halls. Eyes lingered on you for just a moment too long, hushed whispers followed your movements, and the weight of suspicion grew heavier with each passing day. The silent game of intrigue you had started was becoming more dangerous than you ever anticipated.

Daemon’s words haunted you. Secrets don’t stay hidden forever, Y/N.

He had known. Or at least, suspected. And Rhaenyra—there was no doubt in your mind that she had already started connecting the dots. The princess had become colder in your presence, her once friendly demeanor replaced by something much more calculating.

You had managed to keep your secrets for this long, but how much longer could you maintain the facade?

You sat in the dim light of your chambers, a piece of parchment laid before you. The next warning was written carefully, the ink still drying as you watched the words you had

crafted to change the course of history. Each note you left was like a ripple in the timeline, spreading outward and impacting events in ways you could never fully control.

The next message was vital—one that would steer Rhaenyra’s decisions in a crucial way, altering the fragile balance of power.

But this time, you hesitated.

The previous close encounters with both Rhaenyra and Daemon had shaken you more than you cared to admit. Your heart still pounded at the memory of Daemon’s smirk, his quiet threat, and Rhaenyra’s piercing gaze as she subtly questioned your every move. One wrong step, and it could all come crashing down.

Yet you couldn’t stop. Too much was at stake now. You had already planted the seeds, and now they had to be watered. Carefully, delicately, you folded the note, preparing to deliver it when the time was right.

You hadn’t seen Daemon in the last few days, and part of you had hoped that perhaps his interest had waned. But when you least expected it, he made his presence known.

It was late in the evening when you found yourself outside in the garden courtyard, seeking solace in the cool night air. The stars above twinkled faintly, and the quiet hum of the distant city offered a rare sense of peace.

“Out enjoying the evening, are we?” a familiar voice drawled from behind you.

Your pulse quickened, but you forced yourself to remain calm as you turned to see Daemon standing just a few paces away, his usual smirk plastered across his face.

“I needed some air,” you replied evenly, your heart racing despite your calm tone.

Daemon stepped closer, his hands casually resting at his sides, though you could feel the tension radiating from him. He studied you for a long moment, his gaze sharp and probing.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice low and dangerously smooth, “about you.”

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “About me, my lord?”

Daemon took another step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re quite the enigma, aren’t you? Appearing out of nowhere, earning the favor of the princess, slipping through the cracks like a shadow.”

Your mind raced, searching for a response that would divert his attention without raising further suspicion. “I serve the realm, as any loyal subject should,” you said carefully, avoiding his direct challenge.

His smirk deepened. “Do you, though?”

Before you could reply, Daemon leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Everyone here has a role to play. I wonder—what’s yours?”

You forced yourself to hold his gaze, even though every instinct screamed at you to run. Daemon was no fool. He was testing you, pushing your limits to see how far he could go before you broke.

But you couldn’t break. Not now.

“I am but a healer, my lord,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. “Nothing more.”

Daemon’s eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, you thought he might press further. But then, just as quickly as the tension had risen, it dissipated. He straightened, his smirk returning to its usual playful expression.

“We’ll see,” he said cryptically before turning and walking away, leaving you standing there in the dark garden, your heart still racing from the encounter.

You had passed his test this time, but how much longer could you keep this up?

The following morning, the air in the castle was buzzing with anticipation. A high-ranking visitor had arrived at court, though the details were being kept under wraps. You could hear the servants whispering about it in the corridors, speculating on who it could be and what their business might entail.

You knew better than to ask questions openly, but your curiosity burned all the same. The arrival of someone important always shifted the balance of power in subtle ways, and you couldn’t afford to be caught off guard.

As the day wore on, you noticed the increased activity within the Red Keep. Servants rushed about, preparing for what you assumed would be a private meeting between the royal family and their guest. It was clear that whatever business was being conducted, it was meant to stay behind closed doors.

But then, by sheer chance, you overheard a conversation between two courtiers that set your mind spinning.

“It is him, isn’t it?” one of the courtiers whispered, glancing around nervously.

The other nodded, lowering their voice. “Yes. The Prince of Dorne.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The Prince of Dorne? Here?

You couldn’t help but feel a spark of intrigue. The presence of Dorne in King’s Landing meant there were discussions of alliances—or, worse yet, potential conflict. This was information that could change everything if used wisely.

And it was information that Rhaenyra needed to know. But how?

The weight of the folded parchment felt heavier in your hands than ever before as you made your way through the shadowy corridors of the Red Keep. You had to be even more careful now, knowing that Daemon’s eyes were on you and Rhaenyra’s suspicions had grown.

The Prince of Dorne’s arrival was significant. You couldn’t ignore it. But you also couldn’t deliver the note in the usual place—not after your recent encounters. You needed to be smarter, more careful.

You made your way to the hidden alcove in a part of the Keep that was seldom used. The old stone walls loomed around you, the only sound the soft echo of your footsteps. You checked your surroundings carefully, ensuring that no one had followed you.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting in the silence, you slipped the folded note into the small crevice in the stone. It was a new hiding spot—one you had discovered by chance—but it was discreet enough that only someone who knew where to look would ever find it.

You took a deep breath, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease slightly. The warning was delivered. Now, all you could do was wait and hope that it reached the right hands.

But as you turned to leave, a flicker of movement in the shadows caught your eye.

You froze, your heart leaping into your throat.

Someone had been watching you.

You could feel the blood drain from your face as you stood there, paralyzed with fear. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still as you tried to process what had just happened. Someone had been following you. But who?

Had Daemon sent someone to spy on you? Had Rhaenyra finally figured out that you were the one leaving the notes?

Your mind raced, but there was no time to think. You had to move—now.

Without looking back, you quickly made your way down the corridor, your footsteps soft but swift. You couldn’t let them catch you. You couldn’t let them know that you had seen them. Whoever it was, they had been careful, staying in the shadows, watching from a distance. But their presence had been undeniable.

You didn’t stop until you reached the safety of your chambers, your heart still pounding in your chest. Whoever was following you knew something—and that knowledge could be your undoing.

You were running out of time. The game of shadows and secrets had just become much more dangerous.

[vizishereig]

Day 1: Anniversary

oh, when I tell you I speedran this...

This.

Luis's first time seeing Leon is when he's in the company of his guard. He's impossible to miss, blue eyes bright and steady as he converses with the Captain on some sort of issue plaguing the city.

Luis isn't the only one to stop and stare, most of the street going still as the guard walks on. Whispers break out among the masses, and he half listens as he watches. He can't drag his gaze away from the way the sun catches in his hair, turning blond locks gold.

"He's out again? It's rare to see him in the city," one passerby whispers to another, as if he'd hear them.

"I've heard the king is making him interact with the people more. Getting him ready for the crown," their friend whispers back.

"I think he interacts with us just fine," the first one sniffs, as if defending his honour.

"Hah, sure. He's horrible at talking to people, but keep up with your little crush on Prince Leon. He wouldn't look twice in our direction, if the rumors are to be believed."

They move away before Luis can hear more.

He hasn't stopped looking at the mortal, the price, apparently. And that's why he sees him stiffen and perk up, looking through the crowd until his eyes land on him.

Hm. Interesting.

And this…

Sun tanned hands run through golden hair, as he sings an old lullaby that his caretaker used to sing to him when he was a young godling, still learning about the world and domain he'd inhereit.

Leon had taken a while to warm up to him. At least, in a more human way.

Luis has never been fond of the way mortals treat him, the inherent reverence. It gives one a complex, one that most of his other gods have.

Leon, though. He got past that quickly, eager to joke with him, laugh at the times when Luis trips on uneven stones (purposefully, to get that smile out of him), and let Luis hold him. Not only lets him, but seeks it.

Luis holds it all close to his chest, cradles it in his heart as he leads the sun across the sky. Focused, focused, even when he was traversing the ground during the day. The world needs to be safe, whole, unscathed.

All for his personal sun, his light.

Luis cares for the sun, two times over. And he relishes the duty, holds it close.

Luis is aware he'll live forever.

Luis is also, so, so painfully aware that Leon will not.

He's not sure what he'll do then.

And this.

The day comes too early. Much too early.

Maybe that was why the others had been giving him sad looks as he walked the halls at night. Maybe that's why they would go quiet when he entered a room. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

He examines those moments from his room, replaying those days again and again and again.

Seeing Leon die, again and again and again.

Watching the discus hit Leon's chest, ribs breaking, flesh splitting.

Again. And again. And again.

And this.

The day is overcast. Clouds crowd the sky, blocking out the sun. Good.

It's the anniversary of his passing.

A century and he still feels it as acutely as the day he held him in his arms, bleeding out.

Luis is aware the fates aren't kind, but he hasn't had to feel it. Now he has.

And feel it, he does.

The summers are scorching and last longer than they should. He's summoned to court, has been every year for the last century, told to let the seasons change. He listens.

The winters are freezing, the sun hiding away. Humans die, but he turns a blind eye. He'd let the world hurt, feel the same pain that pulses in his chest with every second gone by.

He is angry. He is sad. He is missing his light.

His light, which was taken by one of his kind. A god. His kind, one who was so greedy. that he deemed it better that his light be dead than not his. His kind.

He'll make peace, eventually. He must. But the world will suffer with him a bit longer. Suffer until he is better.

And if he's never better?

He doesn't know, then.

[thecoolestfreakyouknow]

Honestly just tempted to apply for this job even though it’s not the right time because I’m so tired of worrying about money

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

Damian and Tim are trapped together in a cave system.

That itself wouldn’t be too bad (or too out of the ordinary) if Damian hadn’t been injured in the initial collapse.

Now he’s alone, with their comms transmitting and receiving nothing, with the pretender he’d been trying to kill on several occasion.

And Damian is only all too aware that grandfather’s “favorite detective” would have every right to kill him in retaliation. And the perfect opportunity to get away with it.

[sneeb-canons]

soul has a whole flock of chickens, not just darrell. chickens are social animals we NEED MORE CHICKENS GUYS STOP GIVING THEM JUST ONE DARRELL WILL BE SAD AND LONELY

anyways his chickens are Darrell, Jazz, Ginger, and Rob Cantor.

Headcanon #176

[beevean]

How about an AU where Isaac decides to leave the castle too and helps Hector escape? 😏

It's so hard to imagine because an Isaac who chooses anyone over his Lord is no longer Isaac... 🥺

Maybe he didn't do it out of morality like Hector. Maybe he really felt more loved by his friend than by Dracula. It's really hard to imagine, again, but maybe in this AU Hector made him realize that their Lord doesn't care about them and Isaac deserves better than being the eternal second best and if you allow me to be on my shit on main what if isaac was appalled by the brand of dehumanizing favoritism dracula showed hector because his big bro instincts activated

I want to think Isaac would have a more solid plan than Hector's "step 1: run. step 2: die" fhdjkfhdskjhfkj. He seems to be the better of the two at thinking ahead. I think that first thing first he'd try to crash to Julia's, especially if the two were still in touch (Julia knew about Isaac's feelings for Hector, somehow). From there, I think he would like to live nearby, in a remote place because Devil Forgemaster, but even if they're unable to return to human society, at least they have each other :3

... I bet this was something Hector hoped for, in canon, if only Isaac didn't love his Lord more than himself.

[hussyknee]

Idk if there's enough people talking about what a gigantic energy drain Complex PTSD is. It's not just one single traumatic event, it's having lived in a traumatic situation for a long time. And in the case of child abuse, your entire formative life period. Everything is a trigger, anxiety is your default, and your brain keeps trying to keep you safe by yelling at you about everything you're doing "wrong", which will lead to pain. Your brain is a constant war zone, braced for attack, rarely relaxed, at least some part of you always hypervigilant. The stress it takes on your body is insane. It's why trauma is linked to autoimmune issues, heart disease, type 2 diabetes, and, according to one study, cancer.

Physical disability leaves you even more vulnerable and less able to live up to the impossible standards of control and "correct" behaviour your brain insists on, not to mention the free gift given to all patients of chronic illness that is medical gaslighting and patient-blaming, all of which simply compounds the trauma. Reduced physical and mental health obviously leads to systemic risk factors such as inability to pursue academic and professional qualifications, poverty and financial struggle, malnutrition, becoming unhoused or bad living conditions, exacerbated medical issues and further lack of medical resources, reliance on welfare and care networks, and becoming trapped in codependent, abusive or toxic relationships. The knock-on effects are endless.

This is all to say— if you're wondering why you can't seem to do more than the bare minimum every day when you haven't been diagnosed with a physical illness, or you're "not that disabled", or you think your symptoms are "just psychosomatic" (which means your brain is under so much intolerable stress that it's started taking a chair to the windows and destroying the furniture just to get you to NOTICE AND MAKE IT STOP): the answer is that your body is actually struggling under the kind of stress that kills trained soldiers and disables them for life. So stop trying to convince yourself that you're just not trying hard enough when what you really, desperately need to get your life on track is community, care, rest and ease.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Hrmm... put together a roommates quiz finally after years of thinking it would be an interesting idea lol.. Though obviously not meant to be taken super seriously, I just like thinking about this aspect of personality compatibility. Like yeah, maybe you could get along with someone just chatting with them, but living together is such a different thing. .. curiouse...

[kiddokori]

things i like about totk so far: the depths,

i am going to be so completely honest i thought id be able to think of more. um. this is awkward

[slicksquid]

doing pc research so i can be an epic gamer but my head hurts there’s so many letters and numbers here