#I’ve been really trying to get back into writing

[velarisdusk]

No Room for Error

Azriel x Reader

word count: 1.5k content: [ explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV, az does not pull out (as is typical with my fics lmao), hate sex, explicit language ] summary: Your heated argument with Azriel during a mission turns into an unexpected, yet not first-time, encounter in a broom closet. author's note: AZ AND Y/N SPIES AZ AND Y/N SPIES AAAAAA i've been wanting to write this one for a while, i'm happy it's finally in existence somewhere outside of my brain and writing drive lol ✦ . Masterlist . ✦

“You really couldn’t wait to make your move, could you?” you snap, frustration leaking into your voice as you shift again, the small space feeling tighter by the second. “We’ve been plotting this mission for months, Azriel.”

“I’m getting the job done, aren’t I?” His tone is dismissive, the usual bite to it harsher. “Maybe if you focused less on talking and more on following orders, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Following orders?” You scoff, pressing back against him involuntarily, even though you’re not sure if you want more space or less. “Maybe you’d actually listen to me if you stopped thinking you know everything.”

“I do know everything,” he growls in your ear, a dark edge to his words that makes something inside you tighten. “But you’re too busy trying to prove me wrong to realize it.”

“I’m not trying to prove you wrong,” you retort, voice sharp as you shift against him again. “You’re just impossible.”

His breath huffs against your skin. “And yet, here we are,” he murmurs, tone low, barely hiding the edge of amusement. “You’re not exactly walking away.”

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter, shifting uncomfortably in the cramped space. “I should’ve completed twice as many missions as you by now. This was supposed to be my assignment, not yours.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Azriel snaps, his voice tight with annoyance, the tension between you both palpable. “Maybe if you didn’t rush into things all the time, you’d actually finish your missions instead of barely scraping by.”

“I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job,” you retort, clenching your teeth as the walls feel like they’re closing in. “I’m just fine without your help, Shadowsinger.” You spit out the title like it’s venom, though the words feel hollow as soon as they leave your mouth. The competition between you two was fierce—always had been.

“It’s not about help,” Azriel mutters, shifting just enough that you feel his presence even closer. “It’s about keeping up. You always think you can do everything on your own, but in the end, you just screw it up. It’s like you're trying to outdo me for the sake of it.”

“Outdo you?” You laugh bitterly, barely able to move without pressing into him. “I’ve been outdoing you for months, Azriel. You’re just too arrogant to see it.”

His laugh is low and dark. “If you were outdoing me, we wouldn’t be stuck in this closet right now, would we?”

“Oh, you think this is my fault?” You almost scoff, your words dripping with irritation, but the heat between you is undeniable now, thick with more than just frustration. “Maybe if you didn’t play the lone wolf every damn time, we wouldn’t be here.”

“I didn’t play ‘lone wolf,’” he growls. “You’re just too proud to accept I’m better at this than you.”

Your hand moves, fumbling to adjust—or maybe to steady yourself—and the shift in position has Azriel’s breath catching. The sound sends a rush of heat through you, though you’re still unwilling to admit it aloud.

“Better than me?” you ask, voice dropping dangerously low, your lips curling into a sharp, humorless smile. “That’s rich, coming from someone who’s been riding my coattails for months. Admit it, Azriel, you can’t stand that I’m winning.”

His hand tightens at your waist, and his next words are spoken with deliberate, biting calm. “Winning? You’re delusional. You’ve never beaten me, and you never will.”

Your lips part for another retort, but the words die on your tongue, the sound morphing into a moan as he moves. The shift in position presses him against you in a way that makes your breath hitch, his body hitting that spot deep inside you.

A faint sound of footsteps outside the closet snaps you back to reality. You barely have time to register it before Azriel’s hand is covering your mouth, his fingers warm and firm against your lips, stifling any sound you might make. His other hand grips your hip harder, pulling you even closer as he continues to thrust into you, each movement making you feel him deeper, the rhythm brutal and unforgiving.

“Do you want them to hear you?” he growls low in your ear, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “Want to fuck up the mission? Want to give us away?” His voice is tight with barely-contained pleasure, his breath hot against your neck. “You better keep quiet, sweetheart. We can’t afford mistakes.”

You can feel the cold leather of your pants bunched up at your thighs, the heat of his body pressing against you, the sensation of him pushing against you with every thrust, sending jolts of pleasure that make it even harder to keep silent. Your body trembles beneath him, every instinct screaming for release, but the fear of getting caught only makes the tension sharper. 

A desperate whine escapes from your throat, muffled by his hand, and you feel him pause. The sound of footsteps somewhere outside the closet slows, a beat of silence hanging heavy in the air. His breath hitches slightly, but his grip moves up to your waist, and then, in one fluid motion, he presses his hips harder against you.

“Am I going to have to tell Rhys that you cost us months of work?” His words are a dark tease, but the edge of warning lingers in his voice. He pulls back, only to thrust forward again, his hips grinding into yours with slow, powerful force, each movement designed to make you feel every inch of him, to make sure you can’t forget for a second what’s happening. “Think about that, sweetheart. All of this… for nothing.”

Your breath catches as he shifts again, his rhythm turning into something deeper, more intense. The tight space only heightens the feeling of him—every inch of his body pressed against yours, making it impossible to escape the raw heat between you. He grinds into you again, his control slipping as the pressure mounts, but his voice stays dangerously low.

The footsteps outside fade, growing softer as they move away from the door. Azriel’s grip loosens slightly, and he pulls his hand from your mouth, his breath ragged against your skin. You can’t hold back anymore. 

“Please, Azriel, don’t stop, I need it,” you whine, the words slipping out before you can stop them, desperate for more. 

His response is immediate, cold, and calculating. “You don’t need anything. You want it.” His tone is firm, void of any tenderness. “You always want more, don’t you?”

Before you can answer, he shifts again, thrusting into you with a deep, controlled force that makes your body seize in response. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, using the grip to pull you onto him again and again.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, voice low but commanding, “do you always beg like this? Is this how you get Rhys to give you assignments I’m the obvious choice for? Or am I the only one who gets to see this side of you?”

Your heart races, his words swallowing you whole. But you’re beyond caring now, beyond anything but the feeling of him inside you. His hips grind into you with a brutal, possessive rhythm, and you can’t help but let out a moan, your back arching as you press against the wall. You can feel the pressure building, every part of you straining for release, but his control is absolute, keeping you on the edge, making you ache with every moment. You know you can’t hold back much longer. 

With a final, deep thrust, he shudders, his body tightening as he finishes inside you. His breath is heavy, ragged against your neck, and he pauses, just for a moment, as if to savor the feeling of you beneath him. 

Azriel pulls out slowly, his movements deliberate, and you feel a brief emptiness where he was. Without a word, he tucks himself back into his pants with calm efficiency, as if there were nothing out of the ordinary. 

“Pull your pants up,” he says, his tone cool, detached. There’s no hint of the intensity from moments ago, as if he can shut it off in an instant. 

You blink, the haze of pleasure clouding your mind as you slowly process his words. What? You’re still trying to make sense of everything when he pulls back as far as the cramped broom closet allows, glancing at you with that unreadable expression. 

“We’ve got shit to do,” he shrugs, voice colder now, businesslike. “Maybe I’ll stop by your room tonight.” There’s a dangerous flicker in his eyes as he says it, but it’s gone before you can even react. 

He opens the closet door and steps out, holding a hand out to you. You hesitate for a moment, still reeling, but you take his hand, letting him pull you back out into the hall. 

[revelboo]

Hello, I just wanna say I’ve been eating up your blog daily, I absolutely adore your writing and how you interpret the different bots, if it’s not to much to ask, could I request some more Waspinator?

Sure!

Worker Bee Pt 16

Waspinator x Reader

• “Nope!” Awkwardly sliding off the chair and into the floor to escape, you end up with a leg hung up on the chair and your alien bestie staring down at you. Scrambling to get up before he can ‘help’ you back up, you watch his antennae go back. “Remember the personal space talk?” Head tilting slightly, you shove a hand through your hair. Of course he doesn’t. You’ve only explained it how many times? “Okay. This is my personal space.” Waving your hands in front of yourself, you watch his wings flick. “Right? My space. This is your space.” Waving vaguely an inch away from him and he just leans forward, optics shuttering and pressing his face against your palm. “No, see, now I’m invading your personal space.” Even if it’s just a tiny bit cute. Blowing out a breath when he doesn’t move and just softly makes that humming buzz of noise. Right.

• Mandibles flexing when you pull your hand away, he watches you reach up and pinch the bridge of your nose. “Waspinator’s space is little friend’s space,” he offers and you just frown at him. Can’t understand why you’re so funny about ‘your space.’ You’re sharing a hive aren’t you? A nest? Why is he allowed to touch sometimes and not others? Deciding it must be a weird human thing, your moods indecipherable sometimes.

• Maybe you should try something simpler? Because you doubt he’s going to stop clinging to you like a little kid with their favorite stuffed animal at this point. “Sure,” you mutter. “Maybe just watch where you touch?” Antenna perking up, he’s at least listening. Maybe. Who knows what’s going on in that weird, little bug head as he looks at you then at his clawed servos. “Like,” you start, face heating. How do you explain this to a big alien bug robot with the IQ of a decorative soap dish? Gesturing vaguely with your hands at off limits areas and not even surprised he immediately reaches out and grabs. “Yep.” Prying his servos loose before he tries to squeeze, you gently press his hand to his own chassis. “That’s a nope.”

• Venting at you, because he likes laying his head there to recharge. It’s soft. “Why?” So many rules. Too many, but he’s willing to obey for the most part if it keeps his little friend happy. But he enjoys curling up against you, your warmth and scent soothing him. Reminding him that he’s home. And he’s not relinquishing that. Had figured out that if he just keeps asking why when you ask him to do things he’d rather not do, you eventually just give up and let him have his way.

• You already know that’s his go to when he doesn’t want or just flat out isn’t going to do something. Unless you can convince him there’s a good reason to not do whatever he wants. Taking a deep breath, you roll your wrist. “Humans don’t touch there unless they’re together.” See his mandibles open and hurriedly add. “Intimately together.” And he’s just staring at you with those big optics. “And then only after they date and get to know each other.” Still just staring and you wait for the inevitable ‘why’ or worse, to be asked about being ‘intimately together.’ Cause he would ask and just stare blankly while you try to explain sex to him.

• “Dating?” And your shoulders sag at his question. Hasn’t heard that word before. Listens as you start explaining and realizes it’s courting. Human courting for a mate. Candies and flowers. Movie night. Fancy food. Mandibles working, it’s a curious thing. Can’t really figure it out. The food, he understands. Proving he can provide. But flowers and movies? Knows humans are a bit funny, though. If ‘dating’ is needed to prove his place in your hive, he’ll do it. It can’t be that hard and then you’ll stop this ‘personal space’ nonsense.

Previous

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ science, baby!

chapter summary: You and Logan begin to try for a baby.

word count: 7.9k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: hope y'all enjoy this one, it's a mostly cute fluffy chapter :)

also, didn't mean to post so late, i was up late last night writing the peter lyman fanfic😭(it'll hopefully be out tomorrow, but be warned, it's a long one)

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, trying for a baby, talks of pregnancy and fertility, fluff, smut, unprotected piv, creampie, slight angst, not proofread

series masterlist - chapter 3 → chapter 5

You walked into the kitchen, thermos in hand, sipping the herbal tea you’d begrudgingly swapped for your usual coffee. Logan stood by the counter, reaching for the coffee pot, and you immediately sprang into action. Without thinking, you grabbed the empty mug from his hand, holding it out of his reach.

“No coffee,” you said firmly, narrowing your eyes at him.

Logan frowned, his brow furrowing as he looked down at you. “What do you mean, ‘no coffee’? Darlin’, it’s coffee.”

You shook your head, standing your ground. “Exactly. And we agreed to cut back. Remember? Coffee isn’t exactly helpful for…” Your voice trailed off, and you glanced away, feeling your cheeks flush.

Logan tilted his head, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “For what?” he teased, clearly enjoying your bashfulness. “Go on, say it.”

You huffed, giving him a light shove. “You know what I mean! The research said caffeine can affect… you know, certain things.”

Logan chuckled, setting the coffee pot back on the counter. He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, watching you with amusement. “Darlin’, I heal faster than most people. I don’t think a little caffeine’s gonna mess with my…” He paused, leaning in slightly and lowering his voice. “... swimmers.”

Your face burned, and you quickly turned away, pretending to busy yourself with your thermos. “Logan,” you muttered, your voice a mix of embarrassment and exasperation.

He laughed softly, the sound low and warm, before stepping closer and placing his hands on your shoulders. “Alright, alright,” he said, his tone gentler now. “If it matters to you, I’ll lay off the coffee. For now.”

You glanced up at him, surprised by his quick concession. “Really?”

Logan nodded, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Really. If we’re doin’ this, we’re doin’ it together. No coffee, no whiskey, no nothin’. Just tell me what else you need me to do.”

Your heart softened at his words, and you smiled. “Thank you,” you said quietly, leaning into his touch. “It’s not just about the coffee. It’s about… us giving this our best shot.”

He nodded, his expression serious now. “I get it. And I’m in, darlin’. Whatever it takes.”

You let out a small laugh, feeling a bit of the tension ease. “Good. Because there’s a whole list I’ve been working on.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. “A list, huh? Should I be worried?”

“Not unless you’re planning on sneaking coffee behind my back,” you teased, earning a mock-offended scoff from him.

“I’d never,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

The sound of footsteps approaching drew your attention, and Jean entered the kitchen, her red hair tied back in a loose ponytail. “What’s going on in here?” she asked, glancing between the two of you with a knowing smile.

“Just convincing Logan to give up coffee,” you said, trying to sound casual.

Jean raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Good luck with that.”

Logan shot her a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jean shrugged, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl. “Just that I’ve seen you sneak a cup or two when you think no one’s watching. You’re not as subtle as you think.”

You turned to Logan, your eyes narrowing. “Sneaking coffee, huh?”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’m done with coffee. Scout’s honor.”

Jean laughed softly, leaning against the counter. “You two are adorable, you know that?”

You felt your cheeks warm again, and Logan, ever the opportunist, wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer. “What can I say? She brings out the best in me.”

Jean smiled warmly at the two of you before grabbing her apple and heading out of the kitchen. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it.”

Once she was gone, Logan turned his attention back to you, his hand still resting on your waist. “Guess I’d better get used to tea,” he said, eyeing your thermos.

You handed it to him with a grin. “Try it. You might like it.”

He took a sip, his expression immediately souring. “Yeah, no. Not happening.”

You laughed, leaning against him. “It’s not so bad once you get used to it.”

Logan grumbled, but the corners of his lips twitched upward. “If you say so, sweetheart.”

As you stood there together, his arm around you and the faint warmth of the tea lingering between you, you couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of hope. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you’d face them together.

---

“Since when has your lab become a shrine?” Logan asked as he stepped inside, his eyebrows raised. His sharp eyes scanned the room, landing on the biology and pregnancy books stacked neatly on your desk. Then his gaze moved to the whiteboard covered in colorful charts, numbers, and a suspiciously detailed calendar.

You glanced up from where you were jotting notes at the table, a guilty smile tugging at your lips. “It’s not a shrine,” you replied, trying to sound casual. “It’s… research.”

Logan crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Research? Looks more like you’re plannin’ to launch a rocket. What’re all these numbers?”

You hesitated, your pen hovering over the notebook. “Uh… temperatures.”

“Temperatures?” he repeated, narrowing his eyes. “Who’s?”

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you muttered, “Ours.”

Logan blinked. “Ours? When the hell did you take my temperature?”

You cleared your throat, suddenly very interested in the page in front of you. “You sleep like a rock, Logan. I might’ve… borrowed a moment.”

Logan snorted, running a hand through his hair. “Darlin’, you’re takin’ my temperature in my sleep now? What’s next, experimentin’ on me?”

You rolled your eyes, though your smile betrayed your amusement. “Don’t be dramatic. It’s important to track these things if we want to—well, you know, increase our chances.”

Logan pushed off the doorframe and walked over to the whiteboard, squinting at the calendar. “What’re these stars next to certain dates?” he asked, pointing at a few marked in red.

Your face burned even hotter. “Those are… um, optimal days.”

Logan’s lips twitched as he turned to look at you, his expression thoroughly entertained. “Optimal days? You mean to tell me you’re scheduling sex now?”

You threw your pen at him, though it barely grazed his shoulder. “I’m being scientific about it! It’s not scheduling—it’s maximizing opportunities.”

Logan laughed, the sound rich and warm, as he leaned against the desk next to you. “So, what’s next on the plan, Doctor? You got a list of vitamins for me to take?”

Your silence must’ve said it all, because Logan’s amused expression turned suspicious. “Wait, you’re serious?”

You reached for a small container on the desk, holding it up. Inside were a mix of capsules and tablets in various colors. “These are specially formulated,” you explained, handing it to him.

Logan opened the container, his eyebrows shooting up as he counted the pills. “There’s gotta be fifteen of these things in here. You expect me to down all of ‘em?”

“They’re important,” you said, trying to keep a straight face. “And they’re extra-strength so your healing factor doesn’t cancel ‘em out.”

Logan shook his head, muttering under his breath, but he didn’t argue further. Instead, he picked up one of the bottles on the desk and studied the label. “You really are pullin’ out all the stops, huh?”

You softened, setting your notebook down and meeting his gaze. “I just… I want to make sure we’re doing everything we can. I know it might seem a little over the top, but—”

“Hey.” Logan cut you off, his voice gentler now. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I get it. And I’m not givin’ you a hard time. If this is what we gotta do, then I’m all in.”

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, the teasing and laughter faded, replaced by a quiet understanding. “Thank you,” you said softly.

Logan gave you a small smirk, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Always, darlin’. Now, how about you tell me what else you’ve got on that whiteboard of yours?”

You laughed, swatting at his arm. “Only if you promise to stop sneakin’ coffee.”

Logan groaned dramatically. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“Logan.”

“Fine,” he relented, grabbing the thermos of tea you’d left on the desk. He took a sip and immediately grimaced. “I’m really startin’ to miss the old days.”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed the thermos from him, though your smile lingered. “You’ll survive.”

As the two of you stood there, surrounded by your meticulous planning and Logan’s begrudging compliance, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope. It wasn’t just about the charts or the vitamins—it was about the future you were building together, one step at a time.

---

It had been almost 6 months since you and Logan started trying, which is why you had started doing research and tracking cycle’s, body temperatures, and making sure the both of you were taking vitamins.

But it also meant doing research on other things too. Like—

“Are you readin’ porn?”

Logan’s gravelly voice snapped you out of your focused haze. Your head shot up, your heart skipping a beat. You hadn’t even heard him come in, much less lean over your shoulder to see the screen of your laptop.

“What?” you blurted, your hand reflexively slamming the laptop shut. Too late. Logan’s grin was already spreading, the kind that reached his eyes and filled them with mischief.

“Thought I’d seen it all, but here you are, learnin’ about creative new angles,” he teased, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the edge of the table.

“It’s not—” you paused, your face heating as you tried to think of a way to explain yourself. “It’s research, Logan. For… conceiving.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your defense. “Uh-huh. And what exactly were you tryin’ to learn, sweetheart?”

You hesitated, your fingers fiddling with the edge of the laptop. “…Best positions,” you mumbled under your breath, the words barely audible.

Logan barked out a laugh, the deep sound reverberating through the room. “Best positions? Hell, you’ve got a whole lab full of books and charts, but this is what you’re stuck on?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Can you not make this more embarrassing than it already is?”

“Can’t promise that.” Logan reached out, gently prying your hands away from your face. His grin softened as he tilted his head at you. “C’mon, darlin’. Don’t look so mortified. I think it’s cute.”

“Cute?” you echoed, half-exasperated, half-amused despite yourself. “I’m sitting here reading medical journals about optimal positions, and you think that’s cute?”

“Yeah, ‘cause it shows how bad you want this.” Logan’s hand found yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. His voice dropped into a gentler tone. “You’ve been takin’ all this on yourself, and I get why. But you know you’re not in this alone, right? Whatever it takes, I’m with you.”

Your eyes softened at his words. Logan might tease endlessly, but there was always sincerity beneath it. That sincerity was part of why you loved him so fiercely.

“Thanks,” you murmured, squeezing his hand.

Logan leaned back slightly, his grin creeping back. “So, you gonna share what you learned? You’ve got my full attention now.”

You gave him a light shove, rolling your eyes as your smile widened. “You really want me to get into the mechanics of it?”

“Darlin’, I’ve spent over a century figurin’ things out on my own. If you’ve got some expert tips, I’m all ears.”

Your face burned as you tried to keep your voice steady. “Fine. Basically… uh, some positions are better for, um, helping things along. Gravity and angles—”

Logan smirked. “Oh, I get it now. It’s physics. Guess you’re in your element, huh?”

You swatted at him with your free hand, unable to suppress a laugh. “Yes, Logan, it’s physics. And afterwards, raising my hips for about fifteen minutes can apparently help even more. Something about keeping things… in place longer.”

Logan’s smirk turned into a slow grin, his hazel eyes glinting with a dangerous mix of humor and something a little more primal. “Practical application, then?” he asked, his voice dipping lower.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you looked away, suddenly very interested in the bookshelf to your left. “…Maybe,” you said, your voice quieter.

Logan stood, towering over you in a way that felt more protective than intimidating. He tipped your chin up with two fingers, ensuring you couldn’t escape his gaze. “We don’t have to keep this scientific, darlin’,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours.

You managed a small smirk, though your breath hitched at his closeness. “I don’t know, Logan. I think I’d look cute with a pillow under my hips afterward.”

That earned you a low chuckle, and Logan shook his head. “Fine. Science it is. But don’t go thinkin’ I need much persuadin’.”

Before you could reply, he swept you off your feet—literally—leaving your squeak of surprise echoing through the room as he carried you out the door. “Logan! Where are we going?”

“To try those optimal angles,” he replied, voice heavy with amusement. “Can’t let all that research go to waste.”

You covered your face with your hands, your laughter muffled by your palms. Maybe you’d let him win this round.

---

You turned on your side to face Logan, the sunlight streaming through the windows casting a golden glow over his features. He was already awake, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting lightly on your waist. His hazel eyes flicked down to yours as a small, lazy grin tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Mornin’, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice rough and low from sleep.

You blinked up at him, still hazy, your glasses sitting on the bedside table where you’d left them the night before. “Morning,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s thumb brushed a gentle circle over your hip. “You slept alright?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, your words coming slower, the weight of sleep still clinging to you. “You?”

“Like a log,” he said, his grin deepening. “Though wakin’ up next to you’s the best part.”

You gave him a soft smile, your cheeks warming. “You always know just what to say.”

His hand shifted, sliding up your waist and resting just below your ribs. The look in his eyes darkened slightly, the softness giving way to something hungrier. “Ain’t sayin’ it just to say it, sweetheart.”

“Logan…” Your voice trailed off, knowing that tone, that look. “It’s not… I mean, today isn’t…”

“Not an ‘optimal’ day?” he guessed, the corner of his mouth quirking up as his fingers traced idle patterns on your skin. “Don’t care.”

You raised a brow at him, even as your heart skipped a beat. “You don’t care?”

“Nope.” Logan shifted, rolling onto his side to face you fully. His hand moved down, slipping under the hem of your sleep shirt to rest against your bare skin. “It’s been six months of plannin’ and chartin’ and all that other stuff. Ain’t sayin’ it doesn’t matter, but sometimes I just wanna hold my wife.”

You swallowed, your breath hitching as his hand slid higher, his fingers brushing the underside of your breast. “Logan…”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice dipping lower, that rough, familiar rasp sending a shiver down your spine.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, though there was no real bite to your words. Your body was already responding to his touch, your skin warming under his calloused hands.

“You love it,” he countered, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Now, c’mere.”

Before you could protest—not that you wanted to—Logan was pulling you closer, rolling onto his back and guiding you to straddle his hips. His hands found your thighs, squeezing gently as he looked up at you with that crooked grin that always made your knees weak.

“Logan, I don’t even have my glasses on,” you pointed out, your voice breathless.

“Gotcha covered,” he said, reaching over to the bedside table with one hand while the other stayed firmly on your hip. He grabbed your glasses, unfolding them with practiced ease before slipping them onto your face. “Better?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re beautiful,” he said, his hands returning to your waist, pulling you down against him. “Now stop distractin’ me.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as Logan’s hands slid under your shirt, pushing it up and over your head. The cool air kissed your skin, but it was quickly replaced by the heat of his palms as he explored every inch of you. His touch was firm but careful, reverent in a way that made your chest ache with how much you loved him.

“Logan…” you breathed, your hands finding his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he guided your hips to grind against his.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. “Just like that.”

You gasped, your movements becoming more insistent as his hands roamed your body, tracing the curve of your spine, the dip of your waist, the swell of your breasts. He leaned up, capturing your lips in a kiss that was all-consuming, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that left you breathless.

Logan’s hands gripped your hips, guiding you against him as the hard length of him pressed firmly against you through the thin fabric of his boxers. The heat of him, the unmistakable need in the way he moved you, sent a jolt through your core. A soft sound escaped your lips before you could stop it, and his eyes darkened at the sound.

“That’s what I wanna hear,” he murmured, his voice rough and low, sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers tightened, keeping you moving, drawing delicious friction between you both.

Your breath hitched, your hands bracing against his chest, fingers curling into the hard muscle beneath your palms. “Logan…” you began, your voice shaky but laced with warmth, a quiet plea threading through his name.

“Mhm, sweetheart?” His lips quirked up into that familiar grin, the one that could undo you completely. “You just keep ridin’ me like that. Don’t stop now.”

The bluntness of his words made your cheeks flush, but it wasn’t embarrassment that had your thighs tightening around him. You bit your lip, your hips moving instinctively as the growing ache in you demanded more.

Logan’s hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing the soft skin just beneath your breasts. He leaned up slightly, his breath warm against your jaw as he murmured, “You feel so good, darlin’. Always do.”

You let out a soft whimper, your body responding to him like it always did. Your hips rolled, the thin barrier of fabric doing little to dull the intensity of the sensation. He was hard and hot beneath you, and the teasing friction only made you want more.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice catching. “I need…”

His grin widened, and his hands slid back to your hips, stilling you. “What do you need, sweetheart?” he asked, his tone low and teasing, though there was an edge of seriousness to it. “You’re gonna have to say it.”

You groaned, your cheeks burning hotter as you avoided his gaze for a moment. But the ache in you was stronger than your shyness. “I need you,” you managed, your voice quieter than you intended but clear enough for him to hear.

Logan’s grin softened into something warmer, though the hunger in his eyes didn’t fade. “Good girl,” he murmured, the praise making your heart race. His hands tugged at your underwear, and you lifted your hips to help him slide them down your thighs, discarding them onto the floor.

Before you could overthink the vulnerability of being completely bare in front of him, Logan’s hands were back on you, grounding you with their rough warmth. His thumbs caressed your thighs as his gaze roamed over you, taking in every inch. “Goddamn,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “You’re somethin’ else, Y/N.”

You didn’t have a chance to respond before his hands guided you back down, the heat of him pressing against your bare core now. The sensation made you gasp, and Logan groaned, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he said, his voice a low rasp. “Bet I could slide right in without any trouble.”

Your breath hitched, and you nodded, your hands gripping his shoulders as your need for him grew unbearable. “Please, Logan,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire.

Logan reached between you, tugging his boxers down just enough to free himself. You felt the hot, hard length of him against you, and it made your whole body tremble. He lined himself up, his hazel eyes locking onto yours as he guided you down onto him.

The stretch of him was immediate, filling you in a way that was both overwhelming and perfect. You gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he groaned, his hands steadying you.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice strained with pleasure. “You’re doin’ so good.”

You bit your lip, your eyes fluttering shut as you sank down fully, your body adjusting to him. Once you were seated completely, a shudder ran through you, and you let out a breathless moan. Logan’s hands gripped your hips tightly, his fingers pressing into your skin as he groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through your chest.

“Goddamn, sweetheart,” he muttered, his voice rough with need. “You’re so perfect. Always are.”

Your hands rested on his chest, fingers splayed out over the hard muscle beneath them. You could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, even as your own raced. You shifted your hips experimentally, drawing a sharp intake of breath from him and a soft gasp from yourself as the movement sent a rush of pleasure coursing through you.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. “You feel…”

“Yeah?” he prompted, his hazel eyes locking onto yours. His hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing just beneath your breasts. “Tell me, sweetheart. How’s it feel?”

You couldn’t stop the flush that spread across your cheeks, but you managed to meet his gaze. “It’s… so good,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly.

A lazy grin spread across his face, his hands returning to your hips to guide you. “That’s what I wanna hear. Now, c’mon, darlin’. Move for me.”

You nodded, your hands pressing into his chest for leverage as you lifted your hips slowly, feeling every inch of him as you rose. The sensation was almost too much, and a soft whimper escaped you before you sank back down, drawing a deep groan from Logan. His grip on your hips tightened, his thumbs pressing into your skin as he helped guide your movements.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “Nice and slow. Let me feel you.”

You fell into a rhythm, your movements steady but deliberate, each roll of your hips sending waves of pleasure through both of you. Logan’s hands never left your body, roaming up your sides and back down to your thighs, his touch grounding you. His gaze stayed fixed on you, drinking in every gasp, every tremble, every hitch of your breath.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Always are, but like this? Can’t get enough of you.”

His words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, and your movements became more insistent, your body seeking more. Logan groaned, his hips lifting slightly to meet yours, the new angle sending a jolt of pleasure through you that made you cry out.

“Logan!”

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he said, his voice strained but full of encouragement. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

You couldn’t hold back the sounds spilling from your lips, each one seeming to spur him on. His hands slid up your back, pulling you down toward him until your chest pressed against his. His lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there, making you shiver.

“Logan,” you murmured, your fingers tangling in his hair. “I… I can’t…”

“You can,” he insisted, his voice a low growl. “And you will. Just let me take care of you.”

He shifted, sitting up and keeping you in his lap, his arms wrapping around you to hold you close. The new position allowed him to thrust up into you more deeply, and you gasped, your head falling to his shoulder as the intensity overwhelmed you.

“Oh, God,” you breathed, your nails digging into his back. “Logan…”

“I’ve got you, darlin’,” he said, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re doin’ so good. Feels so damn good.”

You clung to him, your movements becoming more frantic as the tension in your body built higher and higher. Logan’s hands roamed your back and hips, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was all heat and desperation. His teeth caught your bottom lip, tugging gently before releasing it and moving back to your neck.

Logan’s teeth grazed along the side of your neck, his stubble scratching your skin in a way that sent tingles through your entire body. He kissed the spot just below your ear, a soft, almost reverent press of lips that contrasted with the heat pooling in your core.

Your hands were in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more. “Logan,” you whispered, your voice catching as his hips shifted beneath you, his length pressing even deeper. The slow, deliberate grind of his movements made your thighs tighten around him, the tension building with every second.

“Mmm,” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm. “You’re so damn perfect, sweetheart. Can’t get enough of you.”

Your fingers tightened in his hair, and you tilted your head to give him more access to your neck. “Logan, please…” you said, your voice trembling with need.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his hazel eyes dark and filled with something raw. “What’s it, darlin’? You wanna tell me what you need?”

You bit your lip, your cheeks flushing. You’d been married long enough that you shouldn’t feel shy, but Logan always had a way of undoing you with a single look.

He smirked, his hands sliding to your hips, holding you steady. “C’mon now, use your words. Tell your husband what he can do for you.”

“I need you to…” Your voice faltered for a moment before you found the courage to continue. “I need you to move.”

Logan’s grin softened, a tenderness slipping into his expression even as his grip on your hips tightened. “Yeah, sweetheart. I got you.”

His hands flexed on your waist, steadying you as he shifted beneath you. “Hold on,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver through you. Without warning, he leaned forward, wrapping an arm securely around your back. You gasped softly, your arms automatically circling his shoulders as he maneuvered you with effortless strength, lowering you gently onto your back.

“Logan,” you began, your voice a mix of surprise and warmth.

“Easy, darlin’,” he interrupted, his lips quirking up into a small, knowing smile. “Didn’t you say this was the best way?”

Your cheeks burned as you recalled the countless articles and studies you’d pored over in the past six months, each one dissecting the optimal positions, timings, and conditions. He’d teased you about it before, but there was no judgment in his tone now—just a gentle reminder of how deeply he’d paid attention.

“I… yeah,” you admitted quietly, your hands brushing against his chest as he settled himself above you.

Logan’s gaze softened as he looked down at you, his hazel eyes tracing every line of your face. “Figured I’d give my scientist wife what she wants,” he teased, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of your nose.

You laughed, the sound breathy and a little shaky. “You’re impossible.”

“Mm, you love it,” he countered, his lips finding yours in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened. His tongue brushed against yours, drawing a quiet sound from your throat. When he pulled back, he didn’t go far, his breath warm against your lips. “This okay?”

You nodded, your fingers sliding into his hair, tugging gently. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the rapid beat of your heart. “It’s perfect.”

Logan’s smirk softened into something warmer as he shifted, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. The movement pressed him deeper, and you gasped, your hands tightening in his hair. He groaned softly, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder for a moment. “Jesus, Y/N…”

Your hands slid from his hair to his shoulders, your nails grazing his skin as you arched up to meet him. “Logan,” you murmured, the sound of his name spurring him on.

His hands found yours, intertwining your fingers and pinning them on either side of your head. The weight of his hands, the way his body pressed into yours, sent a rush of heat through you. “I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he said, his voice rough and low.

You nodded, your breath hitching as he pulled back slightly before pressing into you again, the motion deliberate and unhurried. It wasn’t frantic or rushed—it was steady, purposeful, the weight of every movement making your body hum with pleasure.

“God,” you breathed, your head tilting back against the pillow. “Logan…”

“Mhm,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the side of your neck. “Right here, darlin’.” His pace picked up slightly, the rhythm just enough to make your toes curl. He squeezed your hands gently, his thumbs brushing against your knuckles. “Keep lookin’ at me, sweetheart,” he urged, his voice soft but commanding.

You forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze. The intensity there took your breath away—a mix of love, desire, and something deeper that made your chest tighten. “Logan,” you whispered again, your voice trembling.

“I know,” he said, his lips curving into a faint smile. “I know, Y/N.”

He released your hands, his palms sliding down your arms and over your sides. The calloused roughness of his touch sent sparks dancing across your skin. He braced one hand beside your head while the other slipped beneath your thigh, lifting it higher around his waist. The new angle made you cry out softly, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “Let me hear you.”

Your body responded instinctively, your hips lifting to meet his movements. The rhythm built gradually, each thrust sending a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly. Logan’s breaths came heavier, mingling with yours in the small space between you.

“You’re incredible,” he rasped, his voice strained but filled with sincerity. “Always have been.”

A soft laugh escaped you, though it was broken by a gasp as he shifted his weight slightly. “You… you’re biased,” you managed, your voice breathless.

He chuckled, the sound low and rough. “Damn right I am. But it’s still true.”

Logan’s hand moved to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he kissed you again. This time, the kiss was slower, deeper, matching the rhythm of his movements. Your hands slid down his back, feeling the tension in his muscles as he worked to keep his control.

“Logan,” you murmured against his lips, your voice trembling with need.

“What is it, darlin’?” he asked, his forehead resting against yours as he paused for a moment. His hazel eyes searched yours, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded softly, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Please.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Never,” he promised, his voice low and filled with conviction. “Not for anything.”

He resumed his movements, his pace increasing slightly as the tension between you built. Your breaths mingled, your bodies moving together in perfect synchrony. Every brush of his skin against yours, every shift of his hips, sent sparks of pleasure racing through you.

Your hands slid to his face, cupping his jaw as you pulled him down for another kiss. The connection between you felt electric, every touch, every sound magnified by the depth of your emotions. Logan groaned against your lips, his grip on your thigh tightening as his movements became more insistent.

“You’re incredible,” he muttered, his voice rough and filled with emotion. “Always have been.”

You couldn’t form a coherent response, your mind too clouded with sensation. Instead, you let your body speak for you, your nails dragging lightly down his back as you arched against him. Logan’s lips found your neck again, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there, leaving a trail of heat in his wake.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. “Always.”

The tension in your body coiled tighter, every nerve ending alight as Logan drove you closer and closer to the edge. His name spilled from your lips in a breathless chant, each syllable laced with desperation and love. Logan’s own breaths were ragged, his movements becoming less controlled as he followed you into the spiral of pleasure.

“Y/N,” he groaned, his voice thick with emotion. “Darlin’… I…”

Whatever he was about to say was lost as the wave of sensation crashed over you, your body tightening around him as you cried out. Logan followed moments later, his body shuddering against yours as he buried his face in your neck, his breaths hot and uneven against your skin.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the room filled with the sound of your breathing and the rapid thudding of your hearts. Logan pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder before lifting his head to meet your gaze. His hazel eyes were warm, a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft.

You nodded, a tired but genuine smile spreading across your face. “Yeah,” you whispered. “More than okay.”

Logan chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m not done holding you yet.”

---

As you poured over your large desk calendar, carefully reviewing the neat little markings you’d made to track your cycle, one thing became clear—you were late. Just by two days, but late nonetheless. Your stomach twisted slightly at the realization. It wasn’t panic, but an odd mix of hope and trepidation.

Logan was out for the day, helping Bobby with reconnaissance in the field. You had the mansion’s lab all to yourself, for now, save for the soft hum of the equipment around you. You stared at the calendar for a moment longer before exhaling sharply, closing it.

Footsteps echoed softly down the corridor outside your lab. The familiar red-haired figure appeared a moment later, her bright smile a welcome sight. Jean always seemed to have a knack for showing up when you needed her, whether or not you realized it.

“Hey,” she said, leaning against the doorframe, her green eyes warm. “Mind if I come in?”

You shook your head, offering her a faint smile. “Not at all.”

She stepped inside, glancing around before narrowing her gaze playfully. “Alright, what’s got you so deep in thought that you didn’t even hear me walking up?”

You hesitated. Jean was one of your closest friend—someone you trusted implicitly—but the thought of saying it aloud made your cheeks warm. You busied yourself tidying a few loose papers on your desk.

“It’s nothing,” you said lightly, though your tone betrayed you.

Jean arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Y/N. I know you too well for that.”

You sighed, sitting back in your chair and fiddling with the edges of your sleeves. “I realized… I’m late.”

It took a beat, but comprehension dawned on her face. “Oh.” Her voice softened immediately. “You mean…”

You nodded. “By two days.”

Jean moved closer, pulling up a chair to sit beside you. Her tone remained calm and supportive, but her expression was curious. “Have you told Logan yet?”

“No. I just figured it out this morning, and he’s out with Bobby.” You shook your head, pushing up your glasses. “And honestly, I’m not even sure I’m… y’know. I don’t want to get his hopes up for nothing.”

Jean tilted her head thoughtfully. “Fair. But, what’s the harm in knowing? Have you taken a test yet?”

“No. I haven’t exactly worked up the nerve,” you admitted, managing a wry smile. “Besides, I don’t even have one.”

Her lips quirked into a smile of her own. “Alright. Why don’t we go grab one now? It’ll give you some company, and we can grab lunch afterward. My treat.”

The suggestion caught you off guard, but the idea of not facing the store alone—and spending some time with Jean—was surprisingly appealing. You gave her a grateful look.

“You don’t have to do that,” you started.

“I know,” she interrupted gently, standing and reaching for your hand. “But I want to. Come on, get your coat.”

You hesitated a moment longer before standing, sliding into your coat and scarf. Jean smiled encouragingly, and you followed her out of the lab, glad for the distraction.

---

The two of you walked into the drugstore, the bright fluorescent lights making the shelves gleam. Jean glanced over at you as you lingered near the door.

“Alright, where to?” she asked, her teasing smile disarming any awkwardness you might’ve felt.

You motioned vaguely toward the pharmacy section, hesitating for a moment before finally heading down the appropriate aisle. Jean walked beside you like a fortress, keeping her presence casual but protective.

Reaching the section with pregnancy tests, you froze slightly. The sheer number of options was overwhelming—digital, non-digital, early detection, the works. Jean followed your gaze and let out a quiet laugh.

“Who knew it was so complicated, huh?” she said, reaching out to grab one of the boxes. “This one looks straightforward. What do you think?”

You nodded, relieved she was taking the reins. She handed you the box, and you managed to keep your expression neutral as you tucked it under your arm.

Once at the checkout, Jean casually chatted with you about physics lectures, cutting through any tension. If the clerk gave you an odd look as they rang up the test, you were too focused on Jean’s lighthearted commentary to notice.

---

After getting back to the mansion and successfully avoiding the test for hours, you found yourself pacing your shared bedroom, the unopened box mocking you from the desk. Every time you thought you were ready, your nerves got the better of you.

Logan would be back soon, and the last thing you wanted was to be caught mid-test, especially if it turned out to be a false alarm. Not to mention, you weren’t even sure how to feel yet. Hopeful? Nervous?

You finally let out a frustrated groan, swiping the box off the desk and heading for the bathroom. Best to just get it over with.

Jean had offered to stay and wait with you, but you’d insisted you were fine. She’d left with a knowing smile and a promise to check in on you later.

The knot in your stomach tightened as you sat on the edge of the tub, staring at the pregnancy test still untouched on the counter. You didn’t even realize how tightly you were gripping the edge of the porcelain until your knuckles turned white. For months, you’d been doing everything you could to plan, track, and optimize, but now, faced with the moment of truth, it felt… terrifying.

Still, you’d promised yourself you’d do this today. “Just get it over with,” you muttered under your breath, pushing yourself off the edge of the tub and grabbing one of the small sterile cups Jean had handed you earlier. You couldn’t help but smile briefly at her thoughtfulness—of course, she’d come prepared.

Steeling yourself, you slipped into autopilot mode, getting everything in place as clinically as possible. You focused on the steps, trying to push away the weight of your emotions. But when you glanced down after finishing, your breath caught in your throat.

It wasn’t the pale pink lines on the pregnancy test that greeted you. It was bright red.

Your heart plummeted as the realization hit. You didn’t even need the test anymore.

The wave of disappointment was immediate and sharp, crashing over you before you even had time to process it. You felt frozen for a moment, staring blankly at the stark evidence in front of you. All the charts, the vitamins, the careful planning—none of it mattered. Not this time, at least.

You sat back down on the edge of the tub and pressed your hands to your face. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, forcing yourself to breathe deeply. It wasn’t the end of the world, you reminded yourself. You and Logan had only been trying for six months. There was still time.

But the hope you’d been holding onto—nurturing like a fragile spark—felt snuffed out in an instant.

---

You stayed in the bathroom longer than you meant to, staring at the sink as your thoughts swirled. When you finally managed to gather yourself enough to leave, the sun had dipped lower, casting warm orange light into the bedroom. The clock on the nightstand read 6:17 PM.

Logan would be back soon.

The thought of seeing him was equal parts comforting and daunting. You knew he wouldn’t blame you or be upset, but the weight of letting him down—of letting yourself down—pressed heavily on your chest.

You busied yourself cleaning up, discarding the unused test and tucking away the box in the bathroom cabinet. By the time you emerged, you had forced your expression into something neutral, though you felt anything but calm.

---

The rumble of Logan’s motorcycle echoed through the driveway not long after, and you instinctively straightened in your chair, fiddling with the edge of the smaller version of your calendar you’d been pretending to review.

When the door opened, Logan’s presence filled the room like always, his familiar scent and the soft creak of his boots against the floor grounding you. He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the chair, his hazel eyes immediately finding yours.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted, his voice low and warm. His gaze softened as he stepped closer, his hand brushing your cheek. “You alright? You look tired.”

You managed a small smile, leaning into his touch. “I’m fine. Just a long day.”

Logan studied you for a moment, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheekbone. “You sure?”

You nodded quickly, but soon your eyes started to burn again, and you shook your head, unable to keep up the facade. Logan’s brow furrowed as his hand slid from your cheek to rest lightly on your shoulder.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” His voice was soft, concerned.

You tried to speak, but the lump in your throat made it impossible. Instead, you gave a small shake of your head and looked down, your glasses slipping slightly down your nose as you avoided his gaze. Logan crouched in front of you, his hands finding yours, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles in a slow, steady rhythm.

“Hey,” he murmured, his tone coaxing. “Talk to me.”

You took a shaky breath, your hands tightening around his as you finally forced yourself to say the words, even if they came out in sobs and jumbles. “I thought—I thought maybe this time, but… it’s not. I’m not.”

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, and Logan’s grip on your hands tightened just enough to steady you. He didn’t say anything at first, letting you cry, his thumbs brushing softly over your knuckles.

“Sweetheart,” he said softly, his voice rough with concern. He moved to sit beside you, pulling you into his arms. The warmth of his embrace broke down the last of your walls, and you clung to him, your face pressed against his chest as the sobs came harder.

“I—I thought I felt different this time,” you murmured against his shirt, your voice muffled. “I was so sure. And then…” You shook your head, unable to finish the sentence.

Logan rested his chin on the top of your head, his hand stroking your back in slow, soothing circles. “It’s okay, darlin’. It’s okay to feel like this. You don’t have to hold it in with me.”

You nodded against his chest, even as fresh tears welled up. “It just—it feels like I failed. Like we’re doing everything right, and it still doesn’t matter.”

“You didn’t fail,” Logan said firmly, his voice steady and low. He pulled back enough to tilt your chin up so you’d look at him. His hazel eyes were soft but intense, focused entirely on you. “This ain’t on you. Sometimes things don’t work out the way we want, even when we’re doin’ everything we’re supposed to. Doesn’t mean it’s over. We’ll keep tryin’, together.”

“But what if—what if it never happens?” you whispered, your voice cracking.

Logan’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he took a moment before answering. “Then we’ll figure it out, sweetheart. We always do. One way or another, we’ll have the family we’re dreamin’ about. You hear me?”

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak. Logan cupped your cheek, his calloused thumb brushing away the tears. “You’re the strongest person I know, Y/N. We’ll get through this, just like we’ve gotten through everything else. And we’ll do it together.”

His words eased some of the weight pressing on your chest, and you leaned into his hand, letting out a shaky breath. “I just… I wanted to tell you. I didn’t want to hide it.”

“I’m glad you told me,” Logan said. “Don’t ever feel like you gotta deal with this by yourself. I’m here, no matter what, alright?”

You nodded again, and this time the tears that fell were lighter, more cathartic than crushing. Logan leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment before pulling you back into his arms.

For a while, neither of you spoke, content to sit in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence. The soft hum of Logan’s steady breathing and the warmth of his embrace grounded you, reminding you that you weren’t alone in this.

“I love you,” you murmured after a while, your voice small but steady.

“I love you too, darlin’,” Logan replied without hesitation, his lips brushing against your temple.

The reassurance in his voice settled something inside you, and for the first time since the disappointment had struck, the knot in your chest began to loosen. You weren’t sure what the future held, but as long as Logan was by your side, you knew you could face it.

this is mostly 2006! next chapter will cover the rest of the year!

[doodledrawsthings]

you. Oh my god, you. (Positive)

listen. Before I had internet access, all I had was 1 hour of allotted browser time, bing image search, and a single dantdm play through of a hat in time that never got finished. I googled fanart and got pretty much nothing, I googled fancomics and got pretty much nothing, but you know what I did end up finding?

your art.

from ages 11-14, my goal in life, in art, was your art. I can’t tell you how much I loved finding random screenshots of your posts, because I was always just so impressed by how clean and consistent your sketches are, how the characters always stay on model, the shape language, how you could somehow sketch a character in like 20 lines when it took me 50 to draw sans in my little spiral notebook— like! Holy shit! For years I have looked up to your art! There’s still a photos folder on my dads old huge-ass 12 inch work iPad labeled “holy crap” and filled with your art. Because it inspired me so much. It’s become an undeniable part of my artstyle, now — I still have fanart I drew way back in the day of Hattie and the rest, I didn’t even know anyone’s names because I couldn’t play the game, but you’re the reason I eventually did play the game. Your coffee shop au and different versions of the prince— one of those ieterations inspired the main character of my novel! Well, novel that I tried to write, I was 13 so it was eh, but I tried!!

I’m submitting this on-anon because I don’t want to out my age on the wide internet (I like my privacy) but. Your art has really meant a lot to me. It’s the reason I played hollow knight, and it’s the reason I kept trying to develop an art style I was happy with. You’re the reason I started scribbling comics in my notebooks. Being 13-14 was pretty much the worst two years of my life, but I had Bing image search and the occasional glimpse of your signature, and I’d be so happy every time I found a new (if crusty) three-times screenshotted jpg. You literally introduced me to the concept of polyamory and nonbinary-ness with the coffee shop au. I had no other access to that in my household, and. Yeah. It meant a lot to me.

Anyway. I’m so glad I’ve finally tracked you down (in the most non-ominous way possible) and I’m so glad you’re still active— Please never stop making art. Your art is incredible, and amazing, and also you never know who’s out there on Bing image search. Thank you for creating for as long as you have. You’re pretty much the reason I’m shooting for an art degree (Wish me luck!) so just…Thank you.

(Also I had no idea you were a professional storyboarder, which is insane because that’s what I want to be when I’m through college. Hey, maybe I’ll end up storyboarding a remake of something you’ve storyboarded! hehehe)

Hi anon!

So right off the bat, I gotta tell you that this message made me start bawling when I woke up and saw it. Like I had a full-on cry session while reading your message and lying in bed for almost an hour. I am crying as I am typing this response, on my phone, still in bed. It’s 11am and i woke up at 9. So I hope it turns out coherent.

The last two years have been. weird. I say that a lot because I wanna say “rough” but that still doesn’t feel quite right. I’m almost hyper-aware that there are so many people that have it worse than me rn, so it feels hard to even acknowledge when I’m going through anything, myself, sometimes- REGARDLESS, it’s been kind of an all-time low for my mental health. There was a point within in the last year where I just HATED drawing. I struggled to bring myself to work, I struggled to bring myself to even draw for fun. It felt like I was posting just to post, trying to keep people aware of my existence and it almost felt physically painful to force myself to sit down and do it, sometimes.

I’m getting better now, I think, but. Yknow.

It’s so easy to get caught up in the “oh I can make money off this,” “oh I can get attention off this,” “oh I can prove myself a functional person in society with this,” of it all. I forget why I actually do this, sometimes, or if I even enjoy it. And then I get messages like yours, about the kid with limited internet access looking for A Hat in Time fan art on Bing image search, and I get taken back to when I was a kid scrolling Google images and deviantart for the same thing.

I don’t mean to like. Foster some kind of parasocial thing with you or any one of my followers. There’s a reason I’m saying all this, I hope it ties up in the end.

We don’t know each other. I’m not some mysterious legendary artist, or whatever. I’m a person who gets burnt out, and jealous, and insecure. I need inspiration to function, just like you, and when I don’t have it, I get art block. But I also really like to draw fictional characters kissing and hanging out. I like coming up with comics and stories and playing out dramatic and funny scenarios in my head like I’m mashing Barbies together. And when other people tell me they enjoy the stuff I put out when I do this, it makes me really, really, really happy.

I think I needed to read your message, probably. With the state of… Everything… Right now, especially recently, I feel like a lot of artists are also struggling with a sense of purpose, pride, and reason as the world makes it harder and harder to even BE an artist, these days. And when I read this message it was like Anton Ego at the end of Ratatouille, I got taken back to when I was a kid looking at my favorite artists and studying their style and striving to be better and better at it over years of my life. Not just because I wanted a job for it or cuz I wanted to be a famous Disney animator or whatever, but because it was fun and I just liked doing it.

Thank you, SO much. I say this in the most genuine and earnest way I possibly can possibly express. I wish you luck on your own path in art and art school. And if you decide that animation industry is your thing, then I wish you the best in that endeavor, as well. I think I will keep making art for a long time.

Peace and love on the planet earth ✌️✌️✌️

[goldsainz]

# RAFE CAMERON — THE SOFTEST LOVE !

MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ with fatherhood comes a softness rafe learns to embrace.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ cursing (shit, once), smidge of angst but it’s really all just comfort, daughter’s name is ellie.

003. NOTE !

✯ guys i fear i’m having a severe case of baby fever… like it’s BAD bad. i have a pile of requests and yet i can only write dad!fics😓

word count : 693

The morning sun spills through the sheer curtains, casting a warm golden glow over the bedroom. It’s early—too early, really—but you’ve learned that time doesn’t quite matter anymore. Not with your daughter, Ellie, in your life.

She stirs in her bassinet beside the bed, little whimpers escaping her lips, her tiny fingers curling and uncurling as if reaching for something—or someone.

Rafe gets to her before you can even sit up.

You watch as he leans over the bassinet, his strong hands—hands that have known roughness, hands that have fought, hands that have carried weight heavier than he should’ve ever had to bear—now moving with the utmost gentleness.

“Hey, princess,” he murmurs, his voice still thick with sleep. He scoops her up with ease, cradling her against his bare chest. “What’s got you up so early, huh? Just missed me?”

You smile, sinking back into the pillows, watching the way he rocks her. Ellie makes a small, contented noise, her tiny body relaxing against him as if she knows she’s safest there, all while Rafe looks down at her like she hung the moon.

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to it—the way fatherhood softened him in ways you never imagined. You knew he’d love her, knew he’d protect her with every fiber of his being, but this? The quiet devotion? The way he’d wake up at the slightest noise she made? The way he held her like she was the most fragile, precious thing in the world?

It was something else entirely.

“She wasn’t even crying,” you tease, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “You just wanted an excuse to hold her.”

Rafe glances over at you, smirking, but there’s no denying it. He’s been completely, utterly wrecked by his little girl.

“I mean… can you blame me?” He carefully sinks onto the edge of the bed, adjusting Ellie so she’s nestled against him, her tiny cheek pressed against his chest. “She’s already the cutest thing on the planet, and she hasn’t even hit the cute ‘trying to talk’ phase yet.”

You hum in agreement, shifting closer, resting your chin on his shoulder as you reach out to stroke Ellie’s soft curls. “She has your eyes, you know.”

Rafe lets out a breath, something unreadable flickering in his gaze.

“I hope she doesn’t get anything else from me,” he says, quieter this time.

You frown, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. “Rafe…”

“I just—” He shakes his head, adjusting Ellie slightly as she squirms. “I look at her, and I want her to have everything good in the world. And I think about all the shit I’ve done, all the mistakes I’ve made… and I just—I don’t ever want her to see that side of me.”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his voice.

“She won’t,” you reassure him, your hand sliding down to rest over his. “She’s going to grow up knowing the version of you that sings her to sleep, and carries her around the house for hours when she won’t settle, and wakes up before dawn just to hold her. That’s the only version of you that will matter to her, Rafe.”

His jaw tenses, but you see the way your words land, see the way his shoulders relax just slightly.

Ellie lets out a tiny sigh in her sleep, her little hand clutching at his necklace. Rafe huffs out a small, amused breath, shaking his head.

“She’s got me wrapped around her little finger already, huh?”

You grin. “Oh, absolutely.”

He turns to you then, pressing a kiss to your forehead before shifting to press another to Ellie’s, lingering there for a moment.

“You two are gonna be the death of me,” he murmurs.

You laugh, curling into his side, wrapping an arm around both him and Ellie. “No, we’re just here to make sure you keep that soft heart of yours.”

Rafe scoffs, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he holds his girls a little closer, letting the morning light wrap around all three of you like a promise.

Softness. Love. A life worth protecting.

And for once, Rafe Cameron has everything he’s ever needed.

[rose24207]

Heyyy, i’ve got an idea for a Lando x reader fic!

Basically Lando and the reader have been friends their whole life since their parents are good friends and they go on vacations together all that shit. And the reader has had a crush on Lando for some time now and what she doesn’t know is that Lando likes her too and one night they’re celebrating midsummers (or whatever) and he tells her he likes her and they kiss and talk all night and cuddle and stuff like that, but the next day Lando is ignoring the reader and pretends like nothing happened and goes on to ignore her for like a good year or two until one night they talk and he says he’s sorry for all that and they have their happy ending. Super angsty and sad but fluff at the end!

Don’t feel obligated to write this if you don’t want to, it’s just something i came up with and could never write myself (i can’t write to save my life) but i really like your fics and thought you could!

I‘ve missed this

Summary: Lando confesses his love on midsummer night but pushes you away for years before finally apologizing and winning you back.

Genre: angst, fluff

Lando x f!reader

TW: None!

A/N: DW girl I got your back!! again sorry that you had to wait! School is kicking my ass and I’m about to crash out because of my driver license (that shit is expensive af) English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist pt. 2

The golden glow of the midsummer sun bathed the lawn in a warm, ethereal light. Strings of fairy lights crisscrossed overhead, and laughter filled the air as family and friends celebrated another year of togetherness.

You sat at the edge of the garden, the sound of the waves from the nearby lake mingling with the music. Your eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on him—Lando Norris.

He stood by the fire pit, laughing with a group of friends, the amber glow highlighting his cheekbones and the soft curls that framed his face. You’d known him your entire life, thanks to your parents’ friendship. Vacations, holidays, birthdays—he’d always been there, your constant companion.

And somewhere along the way, you’d fallen for him.

It wasn’t just his boyish charm or his crooked smile that made your heart race. It was the way he made you laugh when you wanted to cry, the way he always seemed to know what you needed without you having to say it.

But he didn’t know how you felt. And you weren’t sure he ever would.

“Why are you sitting here alone?”

His voice startled you, and you turned to see him standing there, hands shoved in his pockets. He tilted his head, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

“Just… thinking,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Thinking, huh?” He dropped down onto the grass beside you, his knee brushing yours. “Care to share?”

You hesitated, glancing down at your hands. “It’s nothing important.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Come on, you can tell me anything.”

You looked up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the way his eyes sparkled in the fading light.

“Alright,” you said, forcing a smile. “I was just thinking about how much has changed since we were kids.”

His expression softened, and he nodded. “Yeah. Feels like yesterday we were building sandcastles and arguing over who got the last popsicle.”

You laughed, the memory warming your chest. “You always took it, by the way.”

“Only because you let me,” he teased, nudging you gently.

Silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The sounds of the celebration faded into the background as you both stared at the lake, its surface shimmering like molten gold.

“I’ve missed this,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet.

“Missed what?”

“Us.” He turned to you, his eyes searching yours. “It feels like we’ve both been so busy with life lately. I hate that we don’t get to spend as much time together anymore.”

Your chest tightened, his words hitting a tender spot in your heart. “Me too.”

He reached out, his hand brushing yours. The simple touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, and you had to fight to keep your composure.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “What is it?”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to your intertwined hands. “I’ve been trying to find the right moment to say this, but… I like you, Y/N. More than a friend should.”

The world seemed to stand still, his words hanging in the air.

“You… what?” you managed to say, your voice shaking.

He smiled nervously, his fingers tightening around yours. “I like you. I have for a while now. I just—”

You didn’t let him finish. Before you could overthink it, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his.

For a moment, he froze, and you thought you’d made a terrible mistake. But then his hands cupped your face, pulling you closer as he kissed you back with a fervor that made your head spin.

When you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, he rested his forehead against yours.

“Wow,” he murmured, a soft laugh escaping him.

You smiled, your cheeks burning. “Wow.”

That night, the two of you talked for hours, sharing secrets and dreams you’d never spoken aloud. When the celebration wound down, you ended up curled in his arms under the stars, your heart feeling fuller than it had in years.

The next morning, you woke up with a smile, memories of the night replaying in your mind. You couldn’t wait to see Lando, to talk about what this meant for you both.

But when you went to find him, he was distant.

At breakfast, he barely met your gaze. Throughout the day, he kept conversations short, avoiding any moment that might leave you alone together.

By the end of the week, he was gone, leaving you with a hollow ache in your chest.

The weeks turned into months, and the months stretched into years. Lando’s career in Formula 1 took off, and you watched from afar as he became a household name.

He texted occasionally, but it was never personal. Just polite pleasantries, as if you were mere acquaintances. The memory of that midsummer night haunted you, the unanswered questions gnawing at your heart.

Why had he pulled away?

It wasn’t until two years later, during another midsummer celebration, that you saw him again.

He was standing by the same fire pit, his posture tense as he stared into the flames. Your heart ached at the sight of him, the familiar longing resurfacing like a wave crashing over you.

Before you could stop yourself, you approached him.

“Lando.”

He turned, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of you. “Y/N.”

The sound of your name on his lips sent a shiver down your spine.

“Can we talk?” you asked, your voice steadier than you felt.

He hesitated but then nodded, leading you away from the crowd to a quieter spot by the lake.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension between you was palpable, years of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your throat tightened, and you looked away. “Why, Lando? Why did you pull away? After everything that happened… I thought—”

“I was scared,” he admitted, cutting you off. “That night… it meant everything to me. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how much I had to lose if I screwed things up between us. You’re my best friend, Y/N. I couldn’t risk losing you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, his words both a balm and a dagger to your heart. “So you thought ignoring me for two years was the better option?”

“I thought it would be easier for both of us if I put distance between us,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “But I was wrong. God, I was so wrong.”

You wiped at your eyes, the weight of his apology sinking in. “Lando… do you have any idea how much that hurt me? How much I missed you?”

He stepped closer, his hands trembling as he reached for yours. “I missed you too. Every single day. And I hated myself for what I did. But I was stupid and scared, and I didn’t know how to fix it.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. Despite everything, you still loved him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m so, so sorry.”

You closed your eyes, your tears mingling with his. “You really hurt me, Lando.”

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “But I swear, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me.”

For a moment, you hesitated. But then you thought of the boy who’d been your rock for so many years, the boy who’d held your hand when you were scared and made you laugh when you wanted to cry.

“I missed you,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if afraid you might disappear. “I missed you too.”

That night, as you sat by the lake with his arms around you, the pain of the past began to fade.

For the first time in years, you felt whole again.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris

[moonstruckme]

i saw you wanted some asks other than the marauders

what ab eddie munson x homeschooled reader. i’ve never seen anyone write that and i was homeschooled through middle and high school. maybe reader is just hanging out in eddies room when he gets home from school bc they’re house is chaotic and they’d rather hang out with eddie? maybe reader brings their school work over to eddies to do because it’s quite at his place. i would take my books and notebooks to my friends house and do my school work until i got distracted. and usually id just flip to the back of the books for the answers 👀

i would pack my books in a tote like bag and just walk over there when i could lol

Thank you for requesting lovely Pepper <3

Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 436 words

There are signs of you already when Eddie gets home. A pair of shoes by the door, a tidier kitchen than either Eddie or Wayne have ever left it, and soft music coming from Eddie’s room.

He finds you laying stomach-down on his bed, bent over a book and munching on a bag of chips with the radio sitting on the open windowsill. The afternoon breeze brings in the smell of greenery and springtime. 

“Hey, beautiful.” Eddie lets his backpack slump to the floor. 

You don’t startle. Must have heard him coming up the road. You turn your head to greet him with a show-stopping smile. “Hey.”

“You didn’t have to clean the kitchen.” 

You shrug. “Figured if I’m going to steal your food, I may as well try and carry my weight.” You crunch down on a chip happily. “How was school?”

“Boring.” Eddie throws himself down onto the bed beside you, causing the springs to squeal and you to bounce slightly. “How’s your school going?” 

“Not bad. Also pretty boring.” 

“Yeah? Whatcha working on?” 

You hum as his face finds its way to the side of your neck. It’s your routine to come to the quiet of Eddie’s trailer to do your schoolwork, and it’s Eddie’s routine to distract you. You tend to prove yourself amenable to distraction. 

“Just math, you know. Bleh.” 

“Bleh,” Eddie agrees. He kisses where your heart beats under your jaw. “But look at you, miss studious. Still doing work at four thirty in the afternoon.” 

“Well” —he can hear the smile in your voice as you yield to distraction once again, letting go of your book to wrap your arms around him— “I didn’t actually start until noon.” 

A giggly squeal escapes you when Eddie grabs your waist without warning, digging his fingers into your sides playfully. You’re beneath him in a second. 

“Sounds like you’ve been working hard,” he says. 

“Not really,” you reply, voice ringing with delight. 

Eddie makes a pfft noise. He goes for your neck again, more to antagonize some more giggles out of you than anything else. “Harder than me. I think you deserve a break, sweetheart.” 

Your fingers burrow into his curls. “I could use a break,” you say amenably. 

“There’s my slacker.” Eddie works his way up to your mouth, catching the appalled laughter as it escapes. 

“Hey!”

“What? I told you, you’ve already done more than me.” 

“Yeah, but that’s such a low bar.” 

“Huh?” He grabs your sides, kissing you as you writhe with poorly contained glee. “I didn’t quite catch that, sweetheart. Maybe you wanna try saying that again.”

[thisishangingrockcomics]

Hey, this is going to seem really random, but if you are a journalist or if you know a journalist who has worked in music writing within the past decade and ever published a public cancellation about a band, an album, a tour, or an artist— I want to urge you to look into your sources and see if you can confirm that everyone involved including initial accusations was a real person. I’ve been stalked and harassed by this person for three years for unrelated reasons who I know has orchestrated a lot of cancellations very publicly and manipulated a lot of people to do so. I know they are behind an attempt to cancel Mitski with false accusations, many attempts to cancel Mac DeMarco with false accusations of like being a pedophile and stuff, if you actually look into the PWR BTTM cancellation, you will find that the initial Facebook post that kicked it all off was like literally not a real person it was a dummy account, if you look into the accusations against The Orwells I have not personally been able to confirm any of those women are real people. I know the person I personally suspect orchestrated all of this uses fake accounts and aliases and manipulating public impression and is behind a lot of others. I suspect Hoops, the initial Whirr cancelation, I suspect they often pose as a minor online and try to get men to interact with them so they can cancel them later— I believe right now they’re personally behind Nobunny, The Growlers, Pinegrove, and McAfferty. Lots of others I suspect some level of involvement, coercion, and aliases in but have less reason to name directly.

I have spent a long time trying to get to this person to come forward and speak to a journalist themselves in their own words just due to how connected all this stuff was, how serious the consequences were, and how big the emotional impact in creative spaces was. How I even figured all of this out is its own story and kind of beside the point right now, but yeah they won’t do so and I don’t really have the resources or time to try to prove what I basically know to be true so right now I’m going to ask that if you are a journalist who has ever published a piece validating a cancellation in the public record or distributed rape accusations (which you shouldn’t, it is literally insane that journalists were ever allowed to do that and publicly incriminate young men using their birth names in creative mediums forever without even getting on a Skype call with accusers let alone getting photo IDs making sure they were at least real people) you go back in time and go back to your sources and try to confirm they were all real people, not aliases not just accounts but actual real people, in no uncertain terms. It’s actually really easy to figure out that a lot of them weren’t now that it’s been a couple years and people’s lives and careers were already ruined. If you can’t confirm sources were real and you can’t track them down and get on a Skype call with them maybe consider posting some updated retractions.

Thanks have a great day 

[evorlaah]

INTENTIONS

Paring: Nonidol!Jake x Female!reader

Synopsis: “Off-limits,” is what your best friend Yunjin says, but the more you spend time with Jake, the harder it becomes to ignore the undeniable chemistry between you two.

Warnings: slowburn romance, emotional tension, suggestive content, friendship complications, Jake’s a tease and a freak.

Note: there isn’t really anything suggestive in this, it’s my first time writing anything like this too so 😭. Enjoy

@evorlaah

You’re perched on the edge of Yunjin’s bed, her laptop propped open as you both skim through lecture notes. The dorm is warm, filled with the faint scent of her lavender diffuser, and you’re doing your best to stay focused on her chatter about last weekend’s party.

“I mean, Jake’s always like that,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Thinks he can charm his way through everything. Trust me, Y/n, he’s all talk. Totally off-limits.”

Your stomach knots, and you force a nonchalant laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Not my type.”

Lie.

Because the truth is, you never really thought about having a crush on Jake—or finding him attractive, for that matter. He was just your best friend’s older brother, the guy who’d occasionally crash your movie nights to steal a slice of pizza or tease you about the way you always wore mismatched socks.

But now? Now you’re seeing him differently.

It’s the way his sleeves are always rolled up just enough to show his forearms. The way his voice lingers in the space between casual and smooth when he says your name. The way he looks at you like he knows something you don’t.

You shake your head, trying to snap yourself out of it. Jake Sim is not the kind of guy you fall for. And Yunjin’s right—he’s definitely off-limits.

“Y/n,” Yunjin snaps her fingers in front of your face. “You’re zoning out. Did you even hear what I said?”

“Uh, yeah,” you lie again, looking away to cover your awkwardness. “Totally. Jake’s… the worst.”

Yunjin snickers. “Exactly. Don’t let that golden-boy charm fool you.”

You force a smile, but all you can think about is how his “golden-boy charm” might feel when directed at you.

The next time you see Jake, it’s at Yunjin’s apartment, where she’s throwing a small get-together for her friend group. He’s leaning against the kitchen counter, drink in hand, laughing at something one of the guys said. His hair is messy in that effortless, careless way that makes him look annoyingly good.

Your plan is to avoid him. Stay in the living room, stick close to Yunjin, and pretend he doesn’t exist. But of course, Jake has other plans.

“Y/N, can you go grab my charger from my room?” Yunjin calls over her shoulder from where she’s chatting with a couple of friends. “I think I forgot it.”

You blink at her, momentarily thrown. “Why me? It’s your room.”

“Because you’re closer to the hallway.” She waves you off without looking, as if that makes her logic foolproof. “It’s on my nightstand. I’ll owe you!”

You sigh, reluctantly standing up. Anything to get some air, right? At least Jake’s in the kitchen, far away from where you’ll be.

Or so you think.

Yunjin’s room is dimly lit by the fairy lights strung above her bed, the familiar scent of vanilla lingering in the air. You spot her charger on the nightstand and make a quick grab for it, eager to get back to the living room before-

“Avoiding me?”

You freeze, heart skipping a beat at the sound of his voice. Turning slowly, you see Jake leaning in the doorway, hands stuffed casually into the pockets of his hoodie. The dim lighting casts shadows across his face, but the faint smirk tugging at his lips is unmistakable.

“No,” you lie, gripping the charger like it’s some kind of shield. “Why would I be avoiding you?”

He steps into the room, the space between you shrinking far too quickly. “I don’t know,” he says lightly, but his eyes are sharp, studying you in a way that makes your stomach twist. “You tell me.”

You let out a shaky laugh, trying to keep your cool. “I’ve been busy. Yunjin asked me to get this, so—”

“You’ve been ‘busy’ every time I try to talk to you lately,” Jake cuts you off, his voice softer now. He stops just a couple of feet away, close enough for you to catch the faint trace of his cologne. “You’re not a great liar, Y/n.”

Your pulse quickens. “Jake, I’m not avoiding you,” you insist, but it sounds weak even to your own ears.

“Then why can’t you look at me?” he asks, tilting his head slightly.

You hate how he’s right. How his gaze feels like it’s burning holes into you, making your chest tighten with emotions you can’t even name.

“I can look at you,” you snap, finally lifting your eyes to meet his.

Big mistake.

Because now, under the warm glow of the fairy lights, you can see every detail—the way his hair falls messily over his forehead, the curve of his lips, the softness in his eyes despite the teasing edge in his voice. It’s overwhelming.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The air feels too heavy, too charged, and you swear your heartbeat is loud enough for him to hear.

Jake’s voice drops, low and almost hesitant. “You don’t have to avoid me, you know.”

Your grip tightens on the charger. “I’m not avoiding you,” you repeat, though your voice wavers this time.

He steps closer, close enough that the tips of his shoes almost touch yours. “Then why does it feel like you are?”

Before you can come up with an answer—if you even have one—Yunjin’s voice echoes down the hallway.

“Y/m! Did you get it yet?”

You blink, snapping out of whatever daze Jake’s put you in. “Yeah, I’m coming!” you shout back, brushing past him quickly.

But as you leave the room, you swear you hear Jake mutter under his breath, “This isn’t over.”

And you know deep down he’s right.

You escape the room so fast you’re practically sprinting down the hallway, clutching the charger like it’s a lifeline. Your heart is still racing, the weight of Jake’s gaze lingering like a phantom touch.

“Finally,” Yunjin groans as you return to the living room, tossing the charger onto her lap. She doesn’t even look up, too busy scrolling through her phone. “You take forever, you know that?”

“Your room’s a disaster,” you lie easily, dropping onto the couch next to her. Anything to hide the fact that you needed a minute to compose yourself.

Yunjin rolls her eyes. “Excuses, excuses.”

Your attempt to blend back into the background is almost successful. Almost.

Jake reappears a few moments later, strolling into the living room as if nothing happened. He settles into the armchair across from you, casually sipping from a can of soda, but the way his eyes flick to you—just for a second—sends a fresh wave of heat up your neck.

“Jake,” Yunjin says, narrowing her eyes at him. “Why do you look like you’re plotting something? You’re creeping me out.”

“Me?” he says innocently, leaning back in the chair. “I’m just sitting here, minding my own business.”

You snort quietly, earning a suspicious glance from Yunjin. She doesn’t press it, though, turning her attention back to her phone.

But Jake doesn’t stop.

The night has ended, and you’re helping Yunjin clear the table when she turns to you with a casual grin.

“You should just stay over,” she says, like it’s the most obvious solution. “It’s late, and I don’t feel like walking you out to your car.”

You glance at the clock. It is late, and you don’t particularly want to drive home in the dark. “You sure?”

“Of course,” Yunjin says, already tossing you a spare pillow from the couch. “You can take the couch. Jake’s crashing here too, so it’s no big deal.”

The pillow freezes mid-air in your hands.

“Jake’s staying?” you ask, voice higher than you intended.

“Yeah, he’s too lazy to drive back to his place.” She waves it off, completely unbothered. “You guys can share the living room. Don’t worry—he won’t bother you.”

You sneak a glance at Jake, who’s leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping water. The corner of his mouth twitches, like he’s trying to suppress a smirk.

“Yeah, don’t worry,” Jake echoes, his voice laced with amusement. “I won’t bite.”

Your stomach flips, and you resist the urge to throw the pillow at him.

Later, after Yunjin retreats to her room and the apartment falls quiet, you find yourself on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and scrolling aimlessly through your phone. Jake is on the other side of the living room, stretched out in the recliner with his legs draped lazily over the armrest.

You try to ignore him. Really, you do. But the silence feels too heavy, and his presence too loud.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Jake finally says, breaking the stillness.

“Maybe I’m just tired,” you reply without looking up.

He hums, like he doesn’t believe you. “You’re avoiding me again.”

Your head snaps up. “I’m not avoiding you.”

“Then why are you all the way over there?” he asks, gesturing to the considerable distance between the couch and the recliner.

You roll your eyes. “It’s a big living room, Jake. Not everything’s about you.”

Jake grins, shifting in his seat so he’s leaning forward slightly. “I didn’t say it was. But you didn’t deny it.”

Jake’s grin only widens as you stand, throwing the blanket off your legs. “Where are you going?” he asks, leaning back in the recliner like he’s settling in for a show.

“To yunjins room.” Just as your about to step into the hallway you feel a firm grip on your wrist.

The sudden warmth of his fingers wrapping around your wrist makes you freeze in place, your heart skipping a beat. You glance down at his hand, then back at him, catching the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Leaving so soon?” Jake’s voice is low, casual, but there’s something in the way he holds your wrist that makes your breath catch. It’s not forceful, but it’s enough to stop you in your tracks.

You open your mouth to protest, but the words die in your throat. The tension between you feels thick, like it’s wrapping around you, pulling you in despite your best efforts to stay composed.

“Let go,” you say, your voice firmer than you feel, trying to pull your wrist free from his grip.

But Jake doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans forward slightly, his expression shifting from playful to something more intense. “Why are you running away, huh?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper now. “You think I’m that bad?”

Your pulse races, and you tell yourself to stay calm, but it’s hard when his presence is so close, when you can feel the heat of his hand still around your wrist.

“Cmon, you know what we did. Why run away now?”

Your breath catches at his words, and for a moment, everything around you seems to blur. Jake’s grip isn’t tight, but the weight of his hand around your wrist feels almost suffocating. The air between you thickens with unspoken tension, a quiet challenge hanging in the space between his words and your silence.

“What we did?” you echo, voice wavering despite yourself. It’s hard to ignore the way your heart is beating erratically, but you force your gaze to stay steady on his. “What are you talking about?”

Jake’s eyes darken a fraction, and there’s a flicker of something more serious in his expression now. He leans in just a little closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, “You know exactly what I mean. Or are you pretending you don’t remember?”

His proximity makes it even harder to breathe, the knot in your stomach tightening as you try to keep your composure. It wasn’t supposed to happen, whatever it was—everything was supposed to be normal, a simple hangout with Yunjin. But this feels anything but simple now.

You swallow, trying to pull away, but he doesn’t let go.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie, but the uncertainty in your voice betrays you. Your pulse races, your mind swirling with a mix of confusion and frustration. What did happen between you two? Why is everything so complicated now?

Jake watches you, amusement flickering across his features, but there’s an edge to it that makes your chest tighten. “You’re not fooling anyone, Y/n,” he says, voice still low and almost teasing, but the undertone is undeniable. “I know what’s going on, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

Your hand twitches in his, the tension between you palpable now. His thumb brushes lightly across your wrist, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. It’s too much. Too much closeness, too much confusion, too much of everything you don’t want to deal with right now.

“I—” You cut yourself off, trying to gather your thoughts, but it’s like you’ve forgotten how to breathe. “Let me go, Jake.”

He doesn’t budge. “Come on, Y/n, you know you don’t want to run. So why are you still pretending like we’re not here?”

For a heartbeat, neither of you moves. The moment stretches, lingering in the air. Your mind screams at you to pull away, to get some space, but a part of you is too caught in the moment to do anything about it.

Everything slows for a heartbeat. The world narrows down to just the two of you—his hand still wrapped around your wrist, his breath warm against your skin. You feel the pull of him, magnetic, undeniable. And then, in a split second, he leans in, his lips barely brushing against yours.

You freeze. Your body tenses, caught somewhere between wanting to pull away and wanting to lean in. His lips are just a whisper away from yours, and you can feel his breath mingling with yours, warm and tantalizing.

Your mind screams at you to stop. This isn’t right. Not with Jake. Not like this.

But the part of you that’s been confused and frustrated, the part that’s been fighting against the tension between you two, hesitates for a moment too long.

Jake’s lips press just slightly more firmly against yours, his grip on your wrist loosening for the briefest moment before you snap back to reality. You step back, heart hammering in your chest, pushing him away gently but firmly.

“No,” you say, your voice shaky but determined. You can’t let this happen. Not now. Not like this.

Jake looks at you, his expression a mix of surprise and something else—regret, maybe. He doesn’t say anything right away, and the air between you both feels thick with the weight of what just happened. You swallow hard, trying to steady your breathing.

“I… we cant,” you mutter, turning away from him, heart still racing in your chest. You don’t wait for him to respond, stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind you.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind you is like a loud punctuation mark in the silence, but it does little to calm your racing heart. You press your back against the door, your breath coming out in shallow gasps as the weight of what almost happened crashes over you.

You want to be angry. You want to yell at Jake for crossing the line, for making you feel this way. But the part of you that’s confused, the part that wanted that too, refuses to let you let it all out. What was that pull? Why does it feel like everything between you and Jake is suddenly shifting into something you can’t control?

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. No. This was a mistake. You can’t let this happen. Not now, not when you’re still figuring out what you want, who you are in all of this.

But still… your lips still tingle from where his almost kissed you, and you can’t ignore the confusing pull you feel every time he’s near.

The next day feels like you’re walking through a minefield. The awkwardness between you and Jake is thick in the air, and you can feel it in every glance, every half-hearted word exchanged. You can barely focus on anything, your thoughts too tangled up in the mess of emotions and confusion from last night.

The constant glances from Jake are driving you crazy. Every time you glance his way, his eyes are already on you, and it’s like this silent pull, a connection you can’t ignore no matter how hard you try. You try to focus on the TV, on Yunjin, on anything but the overwhelming feeling that he’s watching you.

But you can’t take it anymore. You can’t sit here pretending things are normal when they’re clearly not.

You stand up abruptly, earning a curious glance from Yunjin.

“Hey, I’m not feeling great. I think I’m gonna head home,” you say quickly, avoiding looking in Jake’s direction.

Yunjin raises an eyebrow. “You sure? You don’t look too bad.”

You force a half-smile, feeling your cheeks flush from the lie. “Yeah, I’m just a little tired. I think it’s better if I rest.”

She nods, still not completely convinced, but she doesn’t push it. “Okay, feel better.”

You grab your bag and head to the door, avoiding Jake’s gaze the entire time. You just need some space. You need to get away from him, from the tension, from the confusion. But as soon as you reach for the door handle, you feel it—Jake’s eyes on you again.

“Are you sure?” His voice is calm, but the way he says it sends a shiver down your spine. You don’t turn around, you just open the door and step outside, trying to shake the feeling that he’s right behind you.

You don’t want to deal with this right now, but you know you can’t keep avoiding it forever.

You collapse onto your bed as soon as you get home, the door clicking shut behind you. The moment your head hits the pillow, you stare at the ceiling, willing your racing thoughts to slow down. But they won’t. They keep circling, replaying everything—Jake’s smirk, his eyes, the tension that’s been building between you two.

You shouldn’t feel this way. It’s wrong. He’s Yunjin’s older brother, and you’re not supposed to feel this… connection with him. But you do. And it’s driving you crazy.

Your mind drifts to last night—the way his hand brushed yours, the way his words hung in the air. You don’t know what he was thinking, or what he’s trying to do, but you can’t shake the feeling that things are different now. You’re not just friends anymore. And maybe you never were.

A sudden knock on your door interrupts your thoughts, making you jump. You sit up quickly, heart hammering in your chest. Who could it be?

You don’t have to wonder long, because the door creaks open, and there he is. Jake. Standing in your doorway with that same calm expression, his eyes scanning you like he’s trying to figure you out.

You swallow hard, not sure whether to be annoyed, surprised, or just… confused. “What are you doing here?” You try to keep your voice steady, but it wavers a little.

Jake doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he just steps into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. “I thought you might need some company,” he says, his tone casual, but there’s something in his eyes that says otherwise. Something unspoken.

You feel your stomach knot. “Jake, I—”

“I know, I know,” he cuts you off, his voice softer now. “You’re trying to get away from everything, right? But you don’t have to. You don’t have to push me away.”

Your breath catches. “What are you talking about?”

He steps closer, his presence overwhelming, but not in a threatening way. More like… a magnet, drawing you in despite your better judgment.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, a small, almost playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “So, you might as well talk to me.”

Your pulse quickens, your thoughts a jumbled mess. What do you say to him now? What is he even expecting from you?

You look at him, trying to make sense of it all. “Jake, this… this isn’t a good idea.” You know it’s not, but the more he stands there, looking at you like that, the harder it is to push him away.

You don’t say anything at first, just sit there, your gaze locked with his. The room feels smaller with every passing second, the space between you shrinking with the weight of unspoken words. You could tell him to leave, to stop showing up like this—but you don’t.

For reasons you can’t quite explain, you let the tension hang there, thick in the air. You don’t move, and neither does he. The only sound is the soft hum of the clock ticking in the corner, matching the beat of your heart, each second dragging longer than the last.

Jake doesn’t look frustrated, though. In fact, there’s something in his eyes—a quiet amusement, maybe even a little bit of satisfaction, like he knows exactly what this silence is doing to you.

He finally speaks, his voice low and smooth. “You know, Y/n, I’m not so easy to ignore. But you already knew that, right?”

His words linger, and for a second, you’re not sure if you should respond or just let him keep talking.

You swallow hard. “I’m not ignoring you.”

“Sure feels like it.” He takes another step closer, closing the distance between you two, but still leaving just enough space to make you wonder if he’s waiting for you to pull away.

But you don’t.

You stay still, unsure of what exactly you want, but feeling the pull toward him anyway. You’re not sure if it’s the curiosity or something else, but you can’t deny that the closer he gets, the more you can’t breathe.

Jake tilts his head, studying you closely. “So, what do you want me to do, huh? Pretend everything’s normal and keep our distance?”

Your lips part, but no words come out.

He smirks. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

You want to tell him to leave. You want to tell him that you can’t handle this, that it’s too much. But all you do is sit there, heart racing, eyes still locked on his.

It’s quiet for a moment—an uncomfortable silence that seems to stretch on forever. But instead of stepping closer, Jake backs away slightly, not giving you the chance to say anything more, but also not completely leaving.

“You know, I’ll be around,” he says, his voice almost teasing now, like he’s enjoying the way you’re reacting to him. “When you’re ready, I’m here.”

As Jake turns to leave, you feel the words rising in your chest, unfiltered and urgent, like they’ve been trapped there for too long. The quiet that follows his departure feels like it’s pressing down on you, suffocating you with all the things you never said.

“Don’t go,” you call out, your voice stronger than you expect. He stops, pausing with his back still turned toward you.

For a second, neither of you says anything. But then, he slowly turns around, his eyes fixed on you, waiting for whatever comes next.

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of your words hang in the air between you. The silence stretches, but you don’t break it. Not this time.

“I—” you start, but your mind goes blank for a moment, scrambling for something to say that makes sense. All the feelings, all the uncertainty, suddenly feel so loud, so overwhelming.

Jake takes a step closer, his gaze softening, as if he can sense your inner conflict. He doesn’t rush you, just waits patiently, giving you the space to find the words.

“I don’t want to push you away,” you finally manage, the words coming out in a rush. “But I don’t know what I’m doing. With you. With all this.” You motion between the two of you, frustration building. “It’s like I can’t tell if it’s something real or if I’m just… I don’t know. Caught up in it.”

Jake steps closer again, and this time, it’s different. He doesn’t feel like the same person from before—someone who would smile and tease, or just leave without a second thought. Now, he feels like someone who’s listening. Really listening.

“Y/n,” he says quietly, and the way he says your name makes your chest tighten. “I get it. I’m not expecting you to figure everything out right now. But you don’t have to keep running from this. From me.”

You glance up at him, unsure of what to say next, feeling vulnerable but also relieved. There’s something about the way he’s standing there, so open and calm, that makes it all feel just a little bit easier to understand.

“I just don’t want to mess things up,” you admit, feeling a rush of honesty. “I don’t know how to act with you, especially after everything.”

Jake’s fingers gently brush against your skin, the lightest touch, like he’s afraid of crossing some invisible line. His eyes lock onto yours, intense and vulnerable all at once.

“You’re not going to mess anything up,” he says quietly, his voice full of reassurance. “I’m here, Y/n. Whatever this is… we’ll figure it out together.”

His hand lingers near your cheek, but doesn’t quite touch you fully. The space between you feels charged, the air thick with everything that’s been left unsaid.

You feel a tightness in your chest as his words sink in, but also a sense of relief. It’s like a weight you didn’t even know you were carrying has been lifted, and for the first time in days, your mind is clear enough to just… breathe.

You look up at him, heart pounding in your chest. The tension between you both feels different now—not heavy, but uncertain in a way that’s almost comforting.

“I don’t know what this means yet,” you say, your voice soft, your words hesitant but honest. “But… I don’t want to pretend it doesn’t matter.”

Jake finally lets his hand rest on your cheek, his touch warm and grounding. “It matters. And I’m not going anywhere.”

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, no words needed, just the quiet understanding between you. The world feels a little smaller, a little more manageable.

Jake’s thumb gently caresses your cheek, his touch light, like he’s still waiting for you to pull away, but you don’t. Instead, you close your eyes for a second, letting the warmth of his touch settle in.

When you open your eyes again, Jake’s face is closer now, just inches away. You feel his breath on your skin, the tension hanging between you like a promise, unspoken but undeniable.

“You sure about this?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze searching yours.

You nod slowly, the words you need just out of reach, but the answer in your heart clear. “Yeah,” you breathe out, feeling the truth of it settle inside you. “I’m sure.”

And before either of you can second-guess it, Jake closes the distance. His lips are soft, tentative at first, as if testing the waters. But when you don’t pull away, when you lean in just slightly, he deepens the kiss, and everything else fades away.

Jake’s hand stays on your cheek, but it feels like he’s holding back, like he’s waiting for you to say something, anything. The tension in the air is thick, charged, like it could snap at any moment. Your breath catches in your throat as you both just stand there, so close, but still not quite touching the way you both seem to want to.

The moment Jake picks you up, it’s like everything else vanishes. His hands are firm on your waist, and before you can even register what’s happening, he’s sitting down on the couch, pulling you gently into his lap.

“I’ll make sure you won’t avoid me this time.”

[twijaxx]

Hellooo, this is my first time sending a request to you, but I’ve been craving a sweet and comforting ness x fem reader. I just read the latest chapter and I just want to comfort him and hug him, kissing his tears away. Thank you!!

OMG yess!! my baby Ness deserve it after what he been thru in the latest chapters :(

"Ness you should quit soccer. This is not the place for those who live for someone else. Pigs without autonomy should get lost." Those words said by Kaiser kept replaying in Ness head, he cant believe after what he did for Kaiser he would just abandon him like that! But the more Ness thought about the recent match, more and more tears where dripping down his chin, onto your chest.

"Its gonna be okay Ness, let it all out.." -you said while gently playing with his brown hair.

"i just cant believe this! after all i did for him? he just left me like a toy he didnt want to play with no more!!"- he sobbed, you really felt bad for him, you couldnt imagine what it feels like, beging abandon by a person you trusted with your life? You saw what Ness said to Kaiser afterwards on the TV, "I dont have a reason to play soccer besides making you the world's best Kaiser..." You knew Ness to well, he will try to bring Kaiser back at all cost, he will beg him until the day Kaiser accept's another club offer and finally leave Bastards Munchen.

You cant stand seeing your baby cry, Ness is very emotional person situations like that happens really often, just Ness crying because Kaiser said something cruel to him. You fell bad everytime he comes back from a match or practice with tears in his eyes. Everytime you say "its gonna be okay" but you know this will happen over and over again until Ness finally realises Kaiser will never change. "Look at me Ness, come on dont cry. Maybe you want to watch your favorite movie? Or take a bath together? Oh! maybe we should go get some icecream?"

"Yeah.. Icecream sounds like a good idea.. Just five more minutes i- need to acept the fact that Kaiser will never take me back" "Oh baby.. you know i cant stand seeing you cry" -You say as you kiss him on the lips "I love you" "I love you too mein Schatz.."

I hope you liked that nonnie! its the first request im writing so i hope its not that bad LMAO I LOVE NESS SO MUCH AHHHHHHHHHH ALSO IM SORRY IF THERES SOME GRAMMAR MISTAKES I WAS WRITING THIS ON MY PC INSTEAD OF MY PHONE LIKE I ALWAYS DO

[e-dubbc11]

A Few Quiet Minutes

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F! Hunter Reader

Warnings: None, really. Fluff and smooches mostly

Word Count: 1.2K-ish

Summary: After a long hunt, you and Dean are on your way back to the bunker. He’s driving and you’re trying to stay awake in the back seat.

A/N: Feel like I’ve been writing a lot for Dean lately(in my Winchester era, if you will🤣) The ideas have just been coming for him more so than anyone else lately. I like the way this one turned out, I hope you do too 💙 Also, Happy Birthday Dean Winchester! 🥳🥳🥳

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

“You awake back there?” Dean called out as he was driving.

His deep gravelly voice bounced off the interior of the Impala as your eyes briefly met his in the rear view mirror then went back to looking out the window.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m awake. I don’t know for how much longer though.” You replied, staring at the raindrops that had landed against the glass, before the sky had cleared and gave way to a thumbnail moon.

“Diggin’ up graves is tougher than it looks, huh sweetheart.” Said Dean.

You yawned and on your exhale, you fogged up the back window.

“A little.” You stated with a slight smile.

The slight lines around his eyes crinkled as he quickly glanced at you again in the mirror. You knew he was smiling at you.

After being on the road for days, the long and grueling hunt was finally over and you were nothing short of exhausted. The rumble of the engine sang a thrilling melody as you heard the tires turning against the wet pavement.

Baby’s resonant purr hummed against your backside as your eyelids started to feel very heavy and the dim glow of the lights along the empty road shined into the car windows.

You were supposed to be helping Dean stay awake but you kept sinking lower and lower into the back seat.

“Wake up, baby. You’re supposed to be helping ME stay awake.” Said Dean.

Curling your legs up onto the bench seat, you grumbled and replied, “Come onnnnnn, Dean! I’m tired!”

���Do I have to stop and put the windows down, y/n?” He threatened.

Dean chuckled a little. He knew how tired you were, how tired you both were. Staying in crappy motel rooms for the past few days, where the mattresses were hard as rocks and the pillows were flat as pancakes, it’s a wonder you got any sleep at all.

But being together made it easier. As long as you were with him, it didn’t matter that the mattress was uncomfortable or that the pillow was so flat, it was basically a part of the mattress. Dean was your comfort, not the bed. His chest was your pillow and his body was your blanket.

You loved him and he loved you in return.

Listening to the muted growling of the Impala, it didn’t take long before you were fast asleep in the backseat. Stretched out across the seat, the vibrations calmed you and let you fall into a deeper slumber.

With a loud squeak, you thought you heard the driver’s side door close. Dean was probably just putting gas in the car and getting a snack but as you started to drift off again, the back door opened and he lightly tugged on your pant leg.

“You got room for one more back here, sweetheart?” He asked, softly.

As your eyes fluttered open, you could make out the wide smile across his lips and feel his hand resting on your leg. As your eyes tried to focus on his handsome face, he climbed in, closed and locked the door behind him, and crawled up your body until his face was directly in front of yours.

Surprised and still trying to wake up, his name fell from your lips, “Dean? Are we back already?” You asked.

“Ah not yet, baby. I’m a little tired, could use a bit of a nap. And one of these…” Said Dean, as he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to yours.

His lips tasted like salt and even though you both were filthy from digging up bones in the cemetary, his shirt still smelled like clean laundry. As you parted your lips, Dean’s tongue slipped into your mouth to tangle with yours and he firmly pressed his hips against your core.

Aside from sleeping next to each other, you and Dean hadn’t been this close in a few days. It felt so good to run your fingers through his soft brown hair and tightly cling to him as if to silently tell him how much you’ve missed him.

Dean kissed you hard and deep as his calloused hands mapped your body and his fingers grazed the soft skin of your stomach. Your body molded perfectly to his while you could hear your heart beating loudly in your ears.

You gasped loudly into his ear as his lips kissed the spot where your neck meets your shoulder and a wide smile stretched across your lips.

He missed you too.

“Well…that was more than one kiss, baby.” You whispered as you gently raked your nails against his scalp.

“Can I still take a nap with you? Please?” Asked Dean, with a sly smile.

He had pulled over on a very secluded strip of road. You hadn’t heard a single car drive past you since he parked the Impala. You struggled to find the slightest of sounds, the whispers against each other’s ears was the only noise for miles in every direction which, if you were alone, would have made you feel very uneasy.

But in his arms you were safe and he would never let anything happen to you.

“You weren’t really tired at all, were you?” You asked with a narrowed expression and in a slightly accusatory tone.

The blanket of navy blue cradled the crescent silver claw of a moon along with the stars that looked like little pin pricks of white against the late night sky. It was just bright enough to make out the sprinkle of freckles across his nose and the laugh lines around his pale green eyes.

Dean pressed his lips together, closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Not really. Well…maybe just a little. Sweetheart, I just feel like I haven’t touched you in a month.” He exaggerated, sweeping his knuckles across your cheek. “That was a long hunt, between the late night research, and talking to witnesses. It’s just been a long few days.”

His eyes were tired. Even in the low glow of the moonlight, you could see he needed rest.

“Switch places with me.” You said as your body was still pinned underneath him. “You can be my pillow.”

Dean rolled until the bench seat was underneath his back and your body was draped over his, listening to his heart beat steadily inside his chest. The Impala windows were cracked open slightly to allow the chilled air inside as the scent of pine trees and damp earth floated past your nose.

“That better?” Asked Dean, draping his arm around you and slightly propping his head up with his other hand.

You hummed softly against his chest.

“Hmmmm…it’ll do until we get home. I miss our bed.” You said in barely more than a whisper.

He kissed the top of your head and replied, “Me too, baby. When we get back, you can take a shower first.”

Nervously touching the buttons on his shirt, you picked your head up and with a warm smile, said, “How about you join me, handsome?”

One corner of Dean’s mouth turned up into a sly smile, he gently pressed his lips to your forehead, and said, “Sounds like a plan to me, baby.”

After days of hunting, barely sleeping, and putting the case before anything else, you were finally able to decompress and relax with the man you loved…even if it was just for a few quiet minutes in the back of the Impala.

It was the best nap you’ve ever had.

Tag List: @munsonownsmyass @gijos @stoneyggirl2 @vaguekayla

Others that might enjoy: @k-marzolf @jvanilly @fluffyprettykitty @deans-spinster-witch @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @savorxe

If you would like to be added to(or removed from) my tag list(s) for this smexy Winchester, just let me know!

[poppitron360]

Big “I’m Back, Bitch” post after my Hiatus.

Hello All!

This is kinda just intended for close moots or anyone who was worried about me or is interested in Poppi’s Personal Life Lore, just to keep you guys up to speed on how I’m doing after some time away and what to expect from me in 2025.

SO MUCH has happened in the two months I was away from Tumblr so for starters, here is a brief list of updates I have about My life/Fandoms/General shenanigans in no particular order

- The Ithaca Saga came out and it was AMAZING. I completely ignored my stockings that Xmas morning and instead just listened to it. By the time Christmas day was over I’d already listened to it about six times.

- Yes I was at the watch party along with 206,000 other people. It was truly historical.

- The Helluva Boss sinsmas special came out and almost made me cry. It’s been a while since I was posting about that show, but dw I still watch it

- I’m now on book 3 of Magnus Chase and YES YOU WERE ALL ABSOLUTELY CORRECT I LOVE ALEX SO MUCHHHHH. Expect some Alex Fierro/Fierrochase/Jack x Riptide content from me soon

- The Star Wars Disney+ shows are better than they’ve been since Mandolorian Season One.

- HAPPY 2025!!! This can’t be a real year. 2017 was still last year. No way we’re halfway through the 20s already.

- I had a BIG LIFE UPDATE that for personal reasons I can’t share online but it was BIG and also GOOD and I’m really proud of it. It was also unexpected and not the reason I took time off for. Idk why I’m including this bc I can’t really say anything about it but I need y’all to know that something good happened. It seems like when I vent about personal stuff here I only talk about the bad but good stuff does happen sometimes too.

- I got a weighted blanket for xmas. It’s so cozy and I love it.

- I have started getting into making OCs. Some for fandoms, some not.

- Penelope is now my favourite character in Epic.

- I’ve been writing this fanfic about the children of Percabeth, Solangelo, and Valgrace going on a TLT-style quest together so stay tuned to either read that or watch me give up on it and then just infodump about the plot I would’ve written if I’d had the energy

- I’m finally caught up on The Amazing Digital Circus

- I’m finally caught up on Agatha All Along (I still have the last episode to watch)- I think Joe Locke is stuck playing Sad Gay Baby-bois for the rest of his carrer now.

- Joel Smallishbeans won Wild Life and Grian is making 7hr Hermitcraft videos now.

- I performed in a play

- I have a 133-day streak on Duolingo!!

- Technically my one year Hyperfixation anniversary of Percy Jackson! I count it as the first Wednesday after Christmas as that’s when I watched the TLT musical for the first time. Because of this, whenever I doodle an SPQR tattoo on my arm when I’m bored, I will now draw two lines under it instead of one.

- Less than one month into 2025 and I can already predict that “The Challenge” is gonna be my top song of the year on Spotify

- Overall, I’ve just been trying my best to relax and take it easy, and I think I succeeded, which is good because that’s what I needed.

Now for the slightly less lighthearted stuff. I need to set a few things straight, for myself more than anything.

Firstly, I want to clarify that mentally I'm fine. I realise my leave was sudden and might’ve worried some people, and I apologise, but I am safe. You don't have to worry about my health or wellbeing.

This too will pass, and you'll get more dedicated, hyperobsessed Poppi back again once this has all blown over. Although, the aforementioned “BIG GOOD LIFE UPDATE” might complicate things.

Holidays are a stressful time for me, as I’m sure they are for you. With that on top of work and life stuff I needed to shed some mental load and unfortunately Tumblr was the first thing to go. And it will be the first thing to go again when something else stressful shows up. Adulting is hard you guys.

I've made it no secret that I've had some stressful stuff going on in my life these past few months. Yes, I am back from hiatus. Yes, I'm taking the time to rest and take care of myself. But I do not have the physical capacity to fully administrate a Tumblr blog on top of everything else right now.

So from now on, things are gonna be a little bit different around here. I won't be making posts every day and I won't be writing large fanfics or working on any complex fanarts.

I will need to take more hiatuses as things pile up.

I don’t know when exactly, but consider it a fact (unless I say otherwise) that this will happen again.

I know a lot of you will be understanding but I want to set these rules for myself so I don't feel any pressure from my brain to provide for you all. As I'm sure most of you will relate, I have a kinda all-or-nothing attitude to my interests, and as of this point in my life I can't afford to give my all to my blog. So expect a lot less from me these next few months.

Also, still nothing on the Autism Assessment Application stuff, in case anyone was wondering about that. This is the reality of living under the NHS. But by talking to people I’ve still been able to get the help and support that I need regardless of a diagnosis. And I also have a bunch of fidget toys now!!

Anyhoo, sorry for the ramble. I neither assume nor expect everyone will bother reading this so thank you for taking the time if you did. I wanted to put all of this in one post so I don’t need to keep talking about this and boring y’all with personal details in case you’re not interested. On with the fun fandom fiascos!!

I thank you all for your patience and being so kind and considerate while I needed some rest. I could not hope for a more awesome corner of the internet to exist on. Love you all. Stay safe. I’ll see you soon!

— Poppi <3

@lavenderfairiez @ginnyluna @groverapologist @echo-stimmingrose @demigod-shenanigans @keefessketchbook @sleepyycapybara @123letsgobestie @fairytalesociology @four-leafed-queer-gal @child-of-helios @puzzled-pegasus @ollieisanerd @twomanyfandomshelp @lokiwiiiiiii @yoshuko-ew @frayna-of-the-hollow @via-rant @hadeslegacyhephgirl @pjowasmy1stfandom @thetourturedwritersclub @m-for-now @inky-void @deciduowl

[ssweeterthanfiction]

Wait for your love.

content warnings (for the whole series): mentions of drugs and alcohol, age gap, gaslighting, billy being TOXICCCCC, mentions of suicide/suicidal thoughts, mental health issues

↳ currently playing ;

Midnight's Regrets - 1978

1:56 ——————•———— 3:24

↺       <<         ll          >>    ⋮≡

In July of 1978 Y/N made her reappearance.

Y/N: "I was gone for about a year." "And for the first 6 months, I was focusing on getting myself together. I got clean and started writing again." "I was slowly putting together a small album. I had told myself that if I wrote about change and forgiveness, I could heal." "I had heard...rumblings that the band was preparing to release a new album, but I had tried to stay away from the media." "That was until this...one interview came out." "I forgot...who was interviewing the band, I just- I remember being on the phone with one of my friends and I had the radio on. It was just playing in the background, but then I heard a familiar voice." "I told my friend that I would give her a call back. So I hung up the phone and turned up the volume on the radio." "It was Billy. He sounded...drunk. Really drunk. And- I wanted to stop listening, but the minute he brought up my name, I couldn't." "He called me selfish. Said I used him. That I didn’t care about the band, that I just wanted to be bigger than all of them." "He said it- he said it so cruelly. And the worst part was that some of the fans believed it." "I- I didn't know how to react. I was just- angry." "Here he was calling me selfish and say that I used him, while in reality, he put me through so much."

Her voice shakes, and she takes a deep breath before continuing.

"And then, as if that wasn’t enough, a month later, I see pictures of him in a magazine with some girl who looked like me. Like, exactly like me." "It hurt. It really hurt. All those times that he told me I was replaceable, that he told me that I was just another pretty face and that he could have any girl he wants, it all felt- it all felt real when I saw those pictures."

Karen: "Oh, the lookalike? Yeah, we all noticed it. It was... unsettling, to say the least."

Graham: "We told him it was weird, but Billy being Billy, he brushed us off. Said we were imagining things."

Warren: "Nah. That wasn’t imagination. That was some next-level shit."

Y/N: "At that point, the album I was working on? It wasn’t about forgiveness anymore. It wasn’t about love or hope. It was about him. About the anger, the betrayal, the heartbreak. About every time he let me down and every time I let myself believe he wouldn’t." "I didn’t want to make an album that just said, ‘This is what you did to me.’ I wanted to make one that screamed, ‘This is what you’ll never do to me again.’" "The funny thing is, I didn’t write it for him. I wrote it for me. But I knew he’d hear it. I knew he’d know. And I wanted him to feel every single word."

  🎶 .·:*¨🎶💋🎶¨*:·. 🎶

You were at a radio station to make your first step back into the spotlight, everything was ready to go. You just hoped that he would be listening.

You watched the show host stop the music to speak into the mic, "And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have a very special guest with us tonight. This guest has been out of the spotlight for about a year, and now she's back to tell us what's been going on in her life" "Please, give it up for Y/N L/N!"

The sound of applause fills the studio as you slide into the chair across from the host, offering a small, nervous smile

"Y/N, welcome back! I have to say, a lot of people have been wondering where you’ve been and what you’ve been up to. So, let’s start there. How are you feeling?"

"I feel..good. I’ve been focusing on myself, my health, and really just trying to find myself again."

"Well, you’ve certainly been missed. Your fans have been waiting for this moment for a while now. What made you decide to step back into the spotlight?"

"Honestly, I think it was time. I needed to disappear for a bit to figure out who I was outside of everything else. But I missed making music, missed connecting with people. It’s why I started in the first place. So, here I am."

"So...I hear that you have a special announcement for us, something you've been working on while you were gone."

You laugh, "Ah yes! Um...this is something very special to me. And I'm so excited to everyone to listen to it. So my brand new album, Midnight's Regrets will be in stores...tomorrow at midnight."

"An album? Wow you must've been busy while you were gone! Is there anything you can tell us about it?"

"Midnight’s Regrets is…probably the most honest thing I’ve ever written. It wasn’t the album I originally set out to make....but sometimes life takes you in a different direction. It’s raw, it’s vulnerable, and it’s everything I needed to say."

"Now is there....anything or anyone that inspired this album?"

"It's...really just about the past few years."

"Well, I can’t wait to hear it, and I’m sure your fans feel the same. Y/N, thank you for joining us tonight. It’s so good to have you back!"

"Thank you! It feels good to be back."

  🎶 .·:*¨🎶💋🎶¨*:·. 🎶

Karen: "We were in the studio just hanging out and we heard her voice. Billy told Graham to turn up the volume and everything just went quiet."

Graham: "Billy tensed up when she said she was releasing a new album. Like visibly tensed up."

Warren: "Nobody said anything for a while. It wasn't until the lookalike came in...."

Eddie: "No one liked the lookalike. She was rude, entitled, and just nothing like Y/N. Honestly I don't even think Billy liked her. He was just using her to fill Y/N's spot. Which was still fucked up."

Daisy: "Billy left with the lookalike for a while. This was normal he'd leave with her, they go and probably hook up and then she'd come back attached to him. Warren bet Eddie 20 bucks that he was gonna break up with her. Eddie bet 40 against it." "When he came back this time...the lookalike was nowhere to be seen."

Warren: "I asked him where she was...And then he mumbled something like 'she's gone'." "Eddie slipped me my 40 a little while after."

Y/N: "I walked out the the interview with my stomach in knots. I was so nervous for the release, I really was. I was nervous about how people you react to it, I was nervous about what the press would say..." "And I was nervous about what Billy would think of it." "I remembered how I felt listening to Aurora. I was just...in shock and in awe because it was the best album that the band created." "I was just hoping Billy would have a similar reaction to my album."

Eddie: "We all stayed late at the studio that night. We ordered pizza, Warren ran out to get beers and soda, and then at exactly midnight on the dot, Teddy came in with two vinyls." "He placed them both on the table and said 'Listen to the one on the right first' and then he left."

Karen: "Billy was just, staring at them, he didn't move. So I grabbed the first one and opened it."

Y/N: "I wrote a sort of prologue to be put on the inside." "Midnight is the hour where everything feels raw. The highs, the lows, the moments you wish you could forget but never do—they all come alive under the quiet of the moon. This album wasn’t supposed to exist the way it does now. It was going to be a story of forgiveness, love, and second chances. But life has a way of rewriting your narrative for you." "These songs are a reflection of everything I’ve carried: the heartbreak, the betrayal, the anger, and, most importantly, the resilience. They’re not just about what happened to me—they’re about what I refused to let define me." "I wrote this for anyone who’s ever felt shattered and wondered if they could ever put themselves back together. I promise, you can. I promise, you will." "And to the one who broke me: I hope you’re listening. Because I always have."

  🎶 .·:*¨🎶💋🎶¨*:·. 🎶

As Karen finished reading the prologue, a haunting silence took over the room. She carefully placed the record on the player, the soft hum of the start up began to play. Taking the tracklist in her hand, Karen read from it, "First one is...How to disappear."

The soft beat of the song filled the room, then her vocals came in.

"It sounds like her older stuff" Graham says.

A hum of agreement went through the room.

Then the next track began to play.

"Happier Than Ever," Karen says.

The soft strumming of guitar filled the room, it was angelic sounding. Billy didn't say anything, your voice sounded gentle, almost a whisper, as sing about being happy alone, about finally finding yourself. But then the shift happens.

"You call me again, drunk in your Benz. Driving home under the influence. You scared me to death, but I'm wasting my breath. 'Cause you only listen to your fucking friends."

Everyone went quiet.

"She fucking went there" Warren whispers to Eddie.

They all looked over to Billy who was looking down, his hands balled into fists.

"'Cause I'd never treat me this shitty. You made me hate this city. And I don't talk shit about you. Never told anyone anything bad. 'Cause that shit's embarrassing, you were my everything. And all that you did was make me fucking sad."

Billy's thoughts were swirling, he felt a mess of regret and anger, not towards you, but towards himself. He treated you like shit, and now he was hearing how you truly felt.

 The track ended with the sound of crashing drums and a wailing guitar, leaving the room in a tense, suffocating silence. Before anyone could speak, the next track started, immediately shifting the mood.

The upbeat melody of 'love is embarrassing' filled the room.

"Loser who's not worth mentioning. My God, love's embarrassing as hell"

"It's catchy" Warren says, smirking drumming his fingers to the beat.

Before the group could fully process the last track, the next one began. The smooth, upbeat sound of 'Read your Mind' filled the room. 'Feather' had the same effect.

Karen tilted her head, listening closely. "She’s experimenting. This is different from anything she’s done before."

"I bet you those two will be the ones that the radios pick up." Eddie says.

Graham looks over at Billy, "Billy, you good?"

He doesn't say anything, he just grunts and nods.

As the next track begins to play, everyone had expected it to be another pop song, but nothing would prepare them for the whiplash of what was about to play.

The track opened with a slow, deliberate rhythm, a distant, echoing sound that seems to pull everyone’s attention into the quiet before your voice cut through the tension. It’s raw, soft, yet layered with emotion.

Karen’s face tightens as she listens, and she glances around at the rest of the group. Eddie's usual smirk is gone, replaced with a furrowed brow.

"Fell in love for the first time. With a friend, it's a good sign. Feelin' off when I feel fine. 21 took a lifetime. People say I look happy. Just because I got skinny. But the old me is still me and maybe the real me. And I think she's pretty."

Warren, who had been tapping his foot along to the previous tracks, suddenly stops and sits up straighter, the weight of the song sinking in. "Shit…" he mutters, his voice barely audible. "This one’s…heavy."

The song continues, and the production swirls around your voice, adding layers of echoing distortion, mirroring the chaos and confusion in the lyrics.

"I never did you wrong. And my, my patience is gone. And I, I never did you wrong. I loved you for so long"

The song begins to fade out, leaving an unsettling quiet in its wake. No one speaks immediately. Everyone is still processing the shift, the unexpected vulnerability.

The next 5 tracks, vampire, pretty isn't pretty, making the bed, the grudge, and logical, are like a punch to the gut for Billy.

"You can't love anyone, 'cause that would mean you had a heart"

"I could change up my body and change up my face. I could try every lipstick in every shade. But I'd always feel the same. 'Cause pretty isn't pretty enough"

"Another day pretendin' I'm older than I am. Another perfect moment that doesn't feel like mine. Another thing I forced to be a sign."

"And I doubt you ever think about the damage that you did. But I hold onto every detail like my life depends on it. My undying love, now I hold it like a grudge. And I hear your voice every time that I think I'm not enough"

"'Cause loving you is loving every, Argument you held over my head. Brought up the girls you could have instead. Said I was too young, I was too soft. Can't take a joke, can't get you off"

Every word, every line, every lyric, it hit Billy. He hurt you, badly. And now everyone would know how badly he did.

The room was silent.

Graham moved to the record player and stopped it. "Maybe we should take a break." he murmurs.

Billy shakes his head, "No- no let it keep playing," he says as his voice cracks.

The opening notes of 'Clean' began to play. It was vulnerable like the last few tracks, but it felt more hopeful.

"It sounds clean...does that make sense?" Warren says, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Ten months sober, I must admit. Just because you're clean, don't mean you don't miss it. Ten months older, I won't give in. Now that I'm clean, I'm never gonna risk it."

The words strike a chord in Billy. He knows there's a double meaning. You're sober, you're clean of drugs, but you're also clean of him.

The sparkling beat of 'Bejeweled' then filled the room, everyone’s heads snaped up, and for the first time in a while, there’s a slight tension breaking in the air.

  🎶 .·:*¨🎶💋🎶¨*:·. 🎶

Karen: "While we were listening to the album...I think we were all just a bit worried with how Billy would react to Better Than Revenge."

Warren: Laughing "Yeah, I mean, I knew it was coming. You can't hide something like that forever."

Daisy: "Y/N asked for our help. She needed something that felt raw, something real. We couldn't say no to her."

Eddie: "I think we would've gotten away with it if Billy didn't have such a good ear."

Graham: "The minute it started playing, I knew he knew. I mean open a song with Warren playing drums? That's a giveaway automatically."

Warren: "What can I say? I didn’t hold back." he grins "If she needed something to match the fire, we gave it to her."

  🎶 .·:*¨🎶💋🎶¨*:·. 🎶

As the song blasts through the speakers, the energy in the room shifts. The aggressive drums hit, then the guitar riff, and Billy’s jaw clenches as he hears your voice.

"He’s not a saint and he’s not what you think. He’s an actress, He’s better known for the things that he does, On the mattress."

Billy’s eyes narrow, his fists tightening at his sides. The words feel like daggers. But it’s not just the lyrics. The way the song sounds, the drums, the guitar, the bass, everything. He knows that sound.

He grabs the lyric book and flips it open.

Track 14- Better Than Revenge.

His eyes scan the page, and there on the bottom of the page Graham, Warren, Eddie, Karen and Daisy are credited as part of the production of the song.

"What the hell is this?" he says, throwing the booklet onto the table. "You guys helped her with this?"

The room goes quiet, the song continuing to play in the background.

"She came to us Billy. She asked for our help." Karen says.

Billy's voice rises, sharp, accusatory and a little hurt. "And none of you thought to tell me?"

Eddie steps forward, arms crossed defensively. "We promised not to."

Billy scoffs, "You all took her side. You didn’t even think about how this would make me look."

"This wasn’t about sides, Billy. It was about making sure she didn’t feel alone in this. You had your chance to make things right, and you didn’t." Karen says, glaring at him.

"I didn’t-" Billy starts, but Warren cuts him off.

"You didn’t do anything, man. That’s the problem. You're getting mad over what? The fact that she come to you?" Warren says, "You hurt her, you can't expect her to come to you for help."

The song fades out, leaving a tense silence in its place. Billy was fuming. But he couldn't find it in himself to leave.

The final song on the first vinyl began to play.

Billy sat back down and took the lyric booklet back into his hands, track 15- Out Of The Woods.

The sound was different, everything about this whole album was different.

"The rest of the world was black and white. But we were in screaming color."

Billy began to really listen to the lyrics, the way you described everything was so...perfect. Like he could really picture everything.

Graham speaks up. "She’s not pulling punches Billy, she’s not out to destroy you. She’s trying to make sense of it all. Of you. Of herself."

"To move the furniture so we could dance. Baby, like we stood a chance. Two paper airplanes flying, flying, flying. And I remember thinking."

"It’s not just about the bad, is it?" Billy murmurs, his words just loud enough so they could hear him.

Daisy shakes her head, "No, it’s not. It's about the good, the bad, the messy in-between. She's just telling what you guys had."

The final chorus plays, "Are we out of the woods yet? Are we in the clear yet?" echoing over and over again, sounding haunting and hopeful all at once.

  🎶 .·:*¨🎶💋🎶¨*:·. 🎶

Daisy: "When we finished the first record...it was just quiet." "We were all feeling different emotions." "But I have to say, I was fucking proud of her. She- she took something so horrible and turned it into a masterpiece."

Karen: "We were confused why there were two different vinyls, but after Graham took a closer look at the jacket of it, we realized the second one was the deluxe version of it."

Graham: "On the inside of it, it said there were 4 additional tracks. So I took the first one off and then put the second one on." "I sat back down and read the song titles...and I knew we were in for another ride."

  🎶 .·:*¨🎶💋🎶¨*:·. 🎶

Nobody speaks, they only listen. And the lyrics, once again, hit Billy like a fucking bus.

"Cause you kiss me and it stops time. And I'm yours, but you're not mine…"

Billy rubs his face with both hands, his fingers tugging at his hair. Everything rushes back, the whispered promises, the unspoken words, and all the ways he let her down. He slams his hand against the armrest of the chair, his frustration barely contained. "Jesus Christ."

"Why'd you have to make me love you? I said, 'I love you.' You say nothin' back."

This hits Billy like a freight train.

"She's- She's making me seem like the bad guy!" he scoffs, "After I wrote Aurora for her- after I poured out my entire heart on a fucking album for her!"

"Billy, shut up and listen to the lyrics!" Daisy shouts, "You fucking hurt her! You only wrote Aurora because of the fact you hurt her! She's allowed to feel how she wants to! She's allowed to feel angry! She's allowed to feel sad! So just- listen to her lyrics!"

Billy finally shuts up. He leans back in his chair and the next song starts up.

The echoes of 'Is It Over Now?' fill the room. And then...

"You dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor. You search in every maiden's bed for something greater"

"When you lost control. Red blood, white snow. Blue dress on a boat. Your new girl is my clone"

"If she's got (y/c) eyes, I will surmise that you'll probably date her. You dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor. You search in every model's bed for something greater"

"I was hoping you'd be there. And say the one thing. I've been wanting. But no."

Billy's head was now in his hands again. His heart feels like it's sinking to the bottom of his chest, his mind spiraling with thoughts of all the mistakes he made. And then before he could fully collect his thoughts, the next song starts playing.

While the opening notes of 'I Wish You Would' started to play, Billy's heart skipped a beat.

"I wish you would come back. Wish I'd never hung up the phone like I did. I wish you knew that. I'd never forget you as long as I'd live. And I wish you were right here, right now. It's all good. I wish you would"

"I wish we could go back. And remember what we were fighting for. Wish you knew that. I miss you too much to be mad anymore. And I wish you were right here, right now. It's all good. I wish you would"

"We're a crooked love. In a straight line down. Makes you wanna run and hide. Then it makes you turn right back around"

"You always knew how to push my buttons. You gave me everything and nothing. This mad, mad love makes you come rushing. Stand back where you stood. I wish you would, I wish you would"

Billy’s chest tightens as the final line rings in his ears. He wishes, too. He wishes he could take it all back, wishes he could undo the damage he caused. But hearing the lyrics, hearing your regret, he knows it’s too late for that. You're not coming back, not in the way he wants. The realization washes over him, leaving him feeling hollow inside.

But then the sparkly distorted intro of 'Karma' starts playing.

"This is the last one" Graham says as he reads off the vinyl jacket.

It was a catchy song, similar to 'Bejeweled', it had that glittery sound.

Billy knew it was another song directed towards him, but when he heard "Cause karma is my boyfriend" his heart sunk.

Boyfriend.

Boyfriend?

A wave of jealousy, mixed with deep regret, crashes over him, had you moved on?

The song keeps going, and with every line, Billy’s heart breaks a little more.

“Karma is the guy on the screen. Coming straight home to me.”

He could hear the smile in your voice, he could hear how happy you were. He was happy you were happy, but he wanted you to be happy with him.

The song ends, and Billy looks at everyone.

"So...guess she's moved on." he says.

"We don't know that Billy" Graham says, "She could've just- written it because it rhymed or something..."

Billy shakes his head, "No...that's not like her. She doesn't just write out lyrics for nothing."

Graham looks over at Billy, his expression filled with a mixture of concern and frustration. "I’m just saying, man, we don’t know for sure. We don’t know what’s going on in her head. She could be trying to move on, or she could just be putting her feelings into music. You can’t take everything in her songs at face value."

Billy scoffs, rubbing his hands over his face, trying to scrub away the frustration that’s been building up for hours. "No, Graham. I’ve been around long enough to know when she’s really saying something. And she’s saying something. She’s telling me, loud and clear, that she’s moved on."

"She’s telling you that she’s moved forward, not necessarily on. There's a difference." Daisy says in a defensive tone.

"Moved on- moved forward- same shit. What difference does it make?" Billy says, getting up and pacing the room. "I wrote Aurora for her. It was for her. All of it. I thought- I thought it was going to be enough."

"You can't just expect one album to fix everything Billy" Karen says, "You hurt her, badly. An album won't fix that."

Billy remains silent for a moment, processing everything they’re saying.

But then his attention went back to the record player as it started to play this awful sounding static.

  🎶 .·:*¨🎶💋🎶¨*:·. 🎶

Y/N: "On the jacket of the vinyl for the deluxe version of Midnight's Regrets there were only four new tracks listed."

"There was really five."

  🎶 .·:*¨🎶💋🎶¨*:·. 🎶

"Graham, why didn't you turn the player off?"

Graham walks over to the player, "There's still grooves, there's another song."

Not even a second later, the room is filled with the haunting opening notes of a new song.

Everyone stands in silence and confusion as the song plays.

"You were born bluer than a butterfly. Beautiful and so deprived of oxygen. Colder than your father's eyes. He never learned to sympathize with anyone."

"I don't blame you. But I can't change you. Don't hate you. But we can't save you."

"You were born reaching for your mother's hands. Victim of your father's plans to rule the world. Too afraid to step outside. Paranoid and petrified of what you've heard"

The words pierce Billy's already broken heart, he can't hold it in anymore. He feels the tears trickling down his face, and when he looks around, everyone else has tears too.

Your voice is so hauntingly beautiful, they've never heard you like this.

As the song fades out, they can hear what sounds like crying under all the instrumentals.

The silence afterward is deafening.

"Billy…" Graham says, his voice breaking the stillness.

"I fucked up," Billy whispers, the words barely audible. "I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know if I even can anymore."

A/N: HOLY FUCK THIS WAS A LONG CHAPTER 😭 anyways I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED!!!! this was honestly so like stressful to work on cause of the lyrics BUT I PULLED IT OFF I THINK! anyways next chapter will probably be out sometime next week and hopefully the next chapter of GOU will be out by sunday night or monday night!!

heres all the songs from readers album (IN ORDER) -> 1978 album

[seastarblue]

Author Ask Tag!

phew.. so I’ve been tagged quite a bit: thank you to @aromanticsky , @asher-writes , @oliolioxenfreewrites , @theink-stainedfolk , and @aalinaaaaaa for the tags!

my bad if I missed anyone who also tagged me I’m working on catching up with these ^^

I’ll be doing A Golem’s Guide for this one !

———

What is the main lesson of your story?

People are not 100% good. Nor are they 100% evil. If someone does something wrong, what matters is what they do after. If someone does something right, what matters is if they keep that up. (Very shaky but this is the general lesson idk lol)

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?

My inspiration comes from a lot of things (music, things I read, stuff from dreams) but I never really committed to writing all of them down, lols

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, or help the reader grow as a person?

Arbor’s main goal throughout the story is to figure out who he was, and figure out if he can be redeemed for what he’s done. My goal, simply put, is to finish the damn story (/hj), but inspiring and entertaining others is always a plus to me!

How many chapters is your story going to have?

Uh. Next question? (I don’t know yet.)

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

Original! And I think I’ll finally make an AO3 for it too.

When did you start writing?

I remember getting a letter in fifth grade to join a poetry club (I kept a notebook on me and scribbled sometimes) (I didn’t end up going). I’ve only started taking writing seriously since about last January, so a year or so.

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?

If something doesn’t seem to work out, be it a plotline or an arc or just something, take a step back and come back to it with fresh eyes. Works wonders, trust me. As for the lovely people I follow… well there’s quite a bit but I’d like to pass the mic to a few in particular (in a no pressure way ofc); @write-with-will @sunflowerrosy @thebookishkiwi @abiteofhoney @corinneglass and @vesanal !

and I think I’ll also…

taglist time! no pressure as always <3

@sableglass @dioles-writes @viridis-icithus @allaboutmagic @paeliae-occasionally

@astor-and-the-endless-ink @vsnotresponding @nightlylaments @ancientmyth

@thebookishkiwi @verdant-mainframe @threedaysgross @fifis-corner @bamber344

@seafloor509 @viwritesthings @abiteofhoney @rumeysawrites @pizzamanstan

@vesanal

oh and also open tag!

Blanks under the cut!

What is the main lesson of your story?

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, or help the reader grow as a person?

How many chapters is your story going to have?

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

When did you start writing?

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?

[ryah-wolfe]

Just Say It Three Times

When Alfred asked for volunteers to hunt down the old Halloween decorations, Tim was more than willing to go. He needed space away from everybody. 

When was the last time they had everybody back in the manor? He needed space to breathe; away from Dick’s hover, Stephanie’s poking and prodding. Away from Cass’ watchful eyes, and Damian snide comments. 

And just Bruce’s everything. 

But Alfred had asked. And so everybody dragged themselves back to Wayne Manor. 

It had been years since manor truly got decorated for Halloween. So the boxes were packed away in a unused room. It took him some time to find the room, it was a small room filled with boxes and covered furniture. The boxes were neatly packed and so Tim started to look through them;  lifting boxes to find the Halloween stuff. It was while he was shifting a box around, he saw the name. 

Jason Todd.

The name of a boy no one talks about. Well, sometimes Dick would when he was deep in his drink. But it was mostly crying. Tim knew the story from his own research, Jason died young and tragically. 

Curiosity killed the cat, Tim thought as his fingers traced the name. Alfred’s writing, not Bruce’s.  

But satisfaction brought it back, and all thoughts of Halloween decoration were long forgotten. 

He slowly pulled the box open, books. Old classic literature books, a comic here, or there. He gently shifted things around, he wasn’t sure if he felt comfortable fully pulling items out. That felt like going too far, like physically pulling the memories back into the present. 

His gentle rearranged the items to expose a thick parchment. Thick black ink, with bold red text, like some old newspaper ad?  His fingers snagged it and pulled it for clearer view.

RedHood, The Human Hunter for Hire

Are mortals disturbing your peaceful afterlife? 

CALL!

REDHOOD

REDHOOD 

REDHOOD

It was an ad? Seems rather morbid to be in a box about a dead boy. Alfred wouldn’t have placed it in here. 

Maybe Jason was into that kind of thing. The strange and unusual. Tim glanced a the well worn cover of  Pride and Prejudice, no that didn’t seem like something Jason would’ve been into. 

Tim dragged his finger across the name.

 RedHood. 

Another slide of his finger, but this time he was compelled to speak the blood red words.

“RedHood”. 

Tim jumped at his own voice, surprising himself. His voice and the name echoed around the room.

When had it gotten so cold? 

He’s supposed these rooms were further from the center of the house and just tended to be colder. He dragged his finger from the first to the second name. Identical to the first and just as blood red. 

“RedHood”. 

This time he whispered the name, his breath caught  in his chest. His heart thundered in his chest. His finger went to the third name, and  pressed into it. He opened his mouth for the third time to speak, but he choked. The words caught on his dry tongue. He swallowed a few times before he started again.

“Red-”

“ Timbo, did you get lost in here?” 

Tim startled forward, and shoved the morbid ad back into the box. Dick poked his head through the door, before he opened it fully to let the hallway light in. 

Tim blinked his eyes at the sudden flood of light. Had he been sitting in the dark? When did that happen?

Tim turned his head to look at Dick and opened his mouth before coughing. His tongue was sandpaper and his lips were chapped. 

“ Whoa, Tim, are you okay?” Dick  rushed forward and Tim quickly placed the lid back on the box and tried to push the box deeper into the pile. Hoping the name wasn’t showing.  

“ Sorry I guess I’ve just been  looking at the- Tim made a grab for the closest item, a santa nutcracker-   “ nutcrackers Alfred used to collect”. He holds up the nutcracker, a pink cheeked, jolly wooden figure. 

Dick cringed away from it.  

“ Please don’t remind me of those” The older man groaned as he kneeled next to Tim, and placed a comforting hand on his back. 

Tim is cold, Dick through with a frown. 

“ I remember falling asleep in front of the fireplace one year and the first thing I saw was the army of Nutcrackers, staring down from the shelf”. 

“Is that when Alfred stopped displaying them?��

“Oh man, I had such bad nightmares afterwards” Dick laughed as he looked at the santa in Tim’s hand. He kept his hand on Tim's back and Tim didn’t shrug his hand off. Dick thought about the tension in the family now, everyone trying to help Tim and Tim pulling away from them.

Tim’s accident, Dick thought somberly, really did change everything. Bruce has told everyone to give Tim space. And so they did.

“So, other than finding the creepy santas, did you see any of the old Halloween stuff” Dick asked as he glanced around the room. It seemed like it was mostly old furniture and stuff from when bruce’s parents were alive.

“No” Tim shivered as his body started to register the cold temperature.

“That’s fine” Dick replied as he shifted his hand from Tim’s back to wrap around the younger man’s shoulders and pulled him up off the freezing floor. 

“Maybe we can go shopping with Alfred for new stuff, doesn’t that sound fun?” He squeezed Tim’s boney shoulders. He’s definitely lost some weight, has Tim been eating?  

“Yeah lots of fun” Tim mumbled halfheartedly before placing the wooden figure back into one of the uncovered boxes.

His body felt drained and he was starting to feel light headed; that why he didn’t pull away from Dick’s warm hold.

That’s definitely why, Tim  thought as Dick started to pull them out the room and into the brightly lit hallway. 

He was only half listening to Dick’s rambling about planning the perfect Autumn family day. Filled with halloween shopping, carmel apples and pumpkins. Tim turned his head to glance back into the dark room and thought about the box with a dead boy’s things and that weird ad, sitting with Jason’s things.

RedHood. He shivered one last time before Dick closed the door. 

RedHood the Human Hunter

Are mortals disturbing your peaceful afterlife?  

CALL!

REDHOOD

REDHOOD 

REDHOOD

[theloveinc]

Really the most important thing abt drummer!Bakugo is that he’s always placed at the back of the stage (which means he can stare at you singing without anyone noticing)