#i threw these together really really fast

[melodyreads]

Our Little Secret

You and Hamzah are in a secret relationship. While you guys kept each other a secret to protect one another, was it really what you both wanted?

Contains: fem reader, angst, confused reader, lack of communication, arguing, happy ending <3

a/n: I appreciate all the love I've received for my most recent works. Hope you guys enjoy this one, it's definitely my best yet.

---

From an outside perspective, there was nothing out of the ordinary about this situation. Just two couples out on a double date. Me, Mandy, Martin, and Hamzah grabbing dinner at our usual pizza spot. Nothing suspicious. Nothing complicated. Just friends catching up.

Mandy waved kindly as she saw me approach their group. Martin stood next to her seemingly making a joke to Hamzah as he stood there with his hands in his pockets wearing a neutral expression on his face. That was, until he saw me arrive.

A familiar feeling of excitement filled my stomach at the look on Hamzah’s face. I ran up to him and greeted him with a kiss as I met with our group. He would smile down at me as his left hand placed itself in my back jean pocket.

Except, of course, Martin and Mandy were the only couple actually together. 

I guess you could say me and Hamzah were together too. We basically lived at each other's apartments, always leaving clothes in each other's space. I would wake up to Hamzah’s messy curls aghast on the pillow next to mine. I would plant his face with kisses as he grabbed my waist and pulled me on top of him.  

We were together, but in a, “we don’t want to put a label on it” kind of way. No commitments, no pressure—just what we wanted.

I wasn’t so sure about that anymore.

For me, it was about not wanting anything serious right now. I wanted to protect my relationship with Hamzah, what we had was different than anything I had experienced with boyfriends in the past. For Hamzah, it was more to do with his online image— he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable with their fans' inevitable perceptions of you if you two were to date. I joked that he was just playing up the “I’m available” act for his followers. He would always roll his eyes but I’m sure this was part of it.

If people found out we were together, it’d ruin the whole thing. Which is why I had to be extra careful. Even around our best friends.

So imagine my horror when, halfway through dinner, Martin suddenly narrows his eyes at me.

“Hey… isn’t that Hamzah’s sweater?”

The table goes silent and my stomach drops.

I freeze with my pizza halfway to my mouth, my brain scrambling for a response. The oversized grey hoodie I’m wearing is definitely Hamzah’s— the words “nap queen” in black letters I envisioned on my chest made me want to laugh and bury my head in my hands at the same time. I didn’t even think about it when I threw it on before leaving.

It even smelled like him.

I set my pizza down trying to brush it off, “Am I not allowed to wear your guys merch anymore? Y’all should be grateful.” I say acting offended.

Mandy’s eyes flick between me and Hamzah, who—thank god—keeps his expression cool, shoveling food into his mouth as he nodded his head at my response..

Martin, however, is still staring. “I swear that one is yours though, isn’t it Hamzah? It has the exact same material as the one you wear. ”

I let out a short laugh, trying to play it off. “I’m not sure why because this one is mine.”

I didn’t even know them at the time they sold this hoodie on their website.

“It looks exactly like Hamzah’s,” Martin insists. He turns to Mandy. “Doesn’t it?”

Mandy shrugs, sipping her drink. “A lot of those hoodies look the same.”

Hamzah finally speaks, his voice casual but just a little too fast. “Yeah, man, it’s just a hoodie. You think I own every “nap queen” hoodie in existence?”

Martin still looks unconvinced, but he lets it go, turning his attention back to his food. My entire body is tense, and across the table, I can feel Hamzah suppressing a smirk.

Under the table, his finger interlocks with mine, a slow, deliberate touch that sends a jolt up my spine. I flick my eyes toward him, and there’s something smug in his gaze—something knowing.

I roll my eyes at him, trying to ignore the way my face feels hot.

That was too close.

But the truth is, I kind of love the risk. I love the way we sneak glances at each other when no one’s looking, the way my body reacts when he’s just close enough to touch but doesn’t. I love the late nights, the whispered conversations, the fact that we’re both holding onto something we’re pretending we don’t want to name.

God I wanted him bad.

---

The party was loud—too loud. Music pulsed through the walls, and the mix of voices, laughter, and the occasional clatter of a drink being set down filled the air. Mandy and Martin were off in their own little world, and I had lost track of most people in the crowd.

Hamzah settled next to me "How're you doing?" he asked, leaning down to meet my ears while looking out into the sea of people.

I sighed in response, "Alright, I guess..." I snapped my head to meet Hamzah's dark eyes, "...Can we go home soon?" I asked sticking out my bottom lip. He chuckled before leaning down once more.

"Come with me," he murmured, his voice just low enough for only me to hear.

I barely had time to react before his fingers brushed against my wrist—just a ghost of a touch, but enough to send a jolt through me. Before I knew it, I was being pulled down the hall, away from the noise, away from prying eyes.

He didn’t stop until we were inside an empty room, the door clicking shut behind us. The sudden quiet made my pulse hammer in my ears.

"Wait, what if someone sees?" I whispered, even though I was far too gone to start moving away from him.

Hamzah exhaled, leaning back against the door with a sly look covering his face. His eyes were dark, and the dim lighting cast sharp shadows on his face. "I don't care," he said.

That was a lie. He did care. We both did. That was the whole reason we were keeping this secret.

And yet… here we were.

The tension thickened in the air between us, something unspoken crackling like a wire about to snap. Hamzah's jaw tightened, his fingers twitching at his sides before he finally gave in, stepping closer.

I barely had time to breathe before his hands cupped my face, his touch gentle despite the desperation in his eyes. This was the last look I could register before his lips were on mine.

A slow, deep kiss started, stealing the air from my lungs, and making my heart stutter.

I wanted this. God, I wanted this.

But before I could get too carried away, I thought of where we could have been. Kissing in the middle of a crowd, unwavering concerns about what others around us thought. His hand in mine not hidden beneath a table, but revealed proudly.

The weight of it—the secret, the hiding, the way we only allowed ourselves these moments in the dark—it was all too much.

A sharp pang in my chest pulled me back to reality. Before I could stop myself, I tore away, my breath ragged.

“Hamzah, I—” My voice broke, my hands shaking as I stepped back. “I can’t keep doing this.”

His brows furrowed, his hands hovering in the empty space between us like he wanted to pull me back but knew he shouldn’t. “What do you mean... what's wrong?”

I forced a swallow, blinking hard. “Being with you in secret... it just hurts too much.” My voice was barely above a whisper, but the way Hamzah flinched made it clear he heard every word.

His lips parted, like he was about to say something, but I couldn’t stand there and let him try to fix it with more whispered reassurances, more stolen touches that would only leave me aching for something real.

Before he could even get a word out, I was already out the door.

I pushed past the crowd, the music and chatter barely registering. My chest was tight, my pulse racing. I needed air.

I needed to get out of here.

The cold night air hit me as I stepped outside, but it didn't stop me. As I started to come to terms with what just happened, tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill. I sucked in a sharp breath, hugging my arms around myself, trying to shake the feeling of Hamzah’s hands still lingering on my skin.

Then, I heard determined footsteps tracking behind me.

“Wait.”

Hamzah’s voice.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself not to turn around. But then his hand caught mine, stopping me in my tracks.

I exhaled shakily as he moved in front of me, his brows furrowed, his expression torn between frustration and desperation. Whatever it was caused your whole body to shudder.

“I don’t want to hide anymore,” he said, his voice rough, his grip tightening just slightly, “Not if it means losing you.”

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering. “What about your whole ‘single guy’ thing? What about—”

“Screw all that,” he cut me off, shaking his head. “None of it matters if it means I can’t be with you. I don’t care who knows.”

The words hit me like a punch to the chest, knocking the air out of me.

I searched his face, looking for hesitation, for doubt. But there was none. Just him—bare, vulnerable, real.

A shaky laugh left my lips, part disbelief, part relief. “Are you sure about this?”

Hamzah let out a soft chuckle, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from my face before resting gently against my cheek. “Yeah, I mean it.” His thumb traced my skin, slow and reverent. “I want you. For real.”

I didn’t need any more convincing.

This time, when I reached out and kissed him, I wasn’t thinking about the consequences. About who was watching or who would care. What came next and what the future held.

From now on, we came first.

---

a/n: Hope you'll enjoyed this!!!!! It's so hard to end stories, but I think I'm getting better at it lol. Lmk if you guys want a part two????????

[forgetme-eternally-blissfully]

Rapunzel AU!

Cale has been inside of the tower for his entire life. His hair is long, much longer than his brother's. His brother doesn't have a name. Cale knows they're brothers though- because they both have red hair, even if Brother has short hair and Cale does not.

Ever since Cale was 12, he'd been dreaming of a different world. He went to sleep and woke up as someone named Kim Roksu. This Kim Roksu was not in a similar situation as he was- Kim Roksu wandered the streets and ate food from the floor and hid in the small cabinet in his uncle's house. Kim Roksu was weak and strong.

Kim Roksu is a friend to Cale. When Cale wants to see the outside, he sleeps, and he dreams.

Kim Roksu figured out how to communicate with Cale after several years of simple body swapping.

Somehow, they are similar! They both agree that being trash is the best. Kim Roksu because it's easier being a bad person than a good person, and Cale because Brother won't let him be trashy and he wishes he could throw a fit without Brother punishing him.

"Your brother keeps you in a tower?" Roksu asks when he learns.

"Yeah. Is that weird?"

"Well, I don't know anyone who stays in a tower." Cale kicks a rock on the sidewalk with his barefoot, sending it skidding across the dirt road. "Ow, my toe." Roksu complains blandly.

Sharing a body, they also share the same sensations.

"You barely felt that and you know it."

"Shut up."

"You shut up." Cale retorts. He wants to say more, but he swallows those words and tucks them into his chest.

'The bruise over your eye hurts more but you don't complain about that.'

He bites his lip and looks down.

"Do you think," he asks quietly, "if I asked Brother to let me out, he would?"

Roksu, disembodied and floating over his body, frowns. "You haven't asked before?"

Cale smiles bitterly in Roksu's body. "... I did, once." After, Brother said he was going to be leaving for two weeks, and told Cale to ration his food well. Cale knew better than to think it was a coincidence. He didn't have Roksu yet. It was very lonely for a long time.

Roksu doesn't say anything.

"If," his voice trembles, "If I got out. If I left..."

"Cale." Roksu stops him. Cale winces, expecting to be reprimanded.

"You are trash. Trash does whatever they want, no matter what anyone says. If you want to leave, then leave." Roksu's translucent body floats over to stand in front of Cale. Sternly, he says, "Don't worry about useless things. Worry about making a plan and executing it."

Then, abruptly, Roksu turns and ignores him. Cale laughs and folds in half, a childish grin splitting his malnourished cheeks. How can someone be so blunt but so shy? Kim Roksu frowns, but it looks like a pout. Cale rubs away a tear and looks up at the back of his friend. No, the person who sometimes feels more like a brother to him than his real brother.

"And will you help me?"

Roksu rolls his eyes. "Don't ask something so obvious."

Cale smiles and looks down. "Right. Obvious, isn't it?"

Something like receiving help wasn't obvious to either of them. Yet, when it came to the two of them together, it was the most obvious thing in the world. It wasn't obvious with Brother, who he shared blood with. But Kim Roksu, who was abused and beaten down at every turn, chose to welcome a wandering soul into his body and share everything with him.

'You're the one who shouldn't want to be here,' Kim Roksu said when they first started talking and Cale asked why he didn't try to force Cale out. 'When you're in control, I can relax. Why would I want you to leave? That's so difficult.'

They learned that Kim Roksu really could force Cale out when his uncle kicked Cale, sending Kim Roksu's body sprawling onto the floor, then stomped on his arm so hard they heard a clear snap. For Cale it only hurt for a short moment. Roksu threw him out so fast you could imagine that he had practiced beforehand.

Every day and night, Cale slept to try and enter Roksu's body, check on him, share the pain, but Roksu kicked him out every time. It wasn't until four weeks later that Roksu let Cale back in.

Even that much pain was a lot for being four weeks after the incident, but while Cale was struggling to keep his cool, Roksu floated around him and spoke as if nothing was wrong. When Cale started sweating a few hours later Roksu kicked him out again.

'Don't be stubborn,' he said when Cale returned the next night. 'Just say that it hurts. If you still want to stay after you admit that it hurts then I won't kick you out.'

It was a very Kim Roksu thing to do.

"Brother," Cale asks one day at 15, impatiently brushing his hair. He gets scolded lightly, and Brother takes the brush from him. "I read in a book about something called a phone. Do you have one?"

Brother gives him a blank look. Then, as if it had been a lie, his expression changes into something kind and gentle. "Fone? Can you show me the book?"

Cale and Brother roughly root around in every book for anything like the so-called 'Fone,' coming up short.

"Maybe it was a dream," Cale excuses it like that, rubbing his neck. Brother looks at him, worried.

"It must have been. Get some rest, Cale." A kiss to the top of Cale's head, Brother hugs him and promises to bring him more paint. "I'll be gone for a few days this time. Do you want something?"

"Ah," Cale smiles, pressing his face into his Brothers neck to hide his face. "Could you bring me -------?" Brother freezes.

"... you-"

"I learned it from the books! This time I really did, Brother. Please?"

Slowly, Brother releases the tension in his body. "... If that's what you want. But you have to close the window if you're going to mess around with alcohol."

"Yes!" Cale jumps with joy. Then he suddenly runs to a bookshelf, changing the topic by talking about a book Brother brought to him last time. "-and I'd like to know if the sequel is out yet."

"I'll do that." Brother smiles. "You've been asking for more things recently, Cale." Brother settles a hand on his head, stroking his hair.

"It's because of my reliable older brother!" He grabs onto that hand, keeping it there, resembling a naive little brother who only has his role model in his eyes.

He sends his brother down the tower using his hair, and watches that spot of red disappear in the distance.

His face drops.

"... Bastard."

Cale turns on his foot. It's time to see Roksu.

[fairymonk]

Critical Role Final Line: Campaign 1 Episode 115 | Campaign 3 Episode 121

[150genetic]

oh and hereee

[robertphilip]

As the cars take to the field, you can feel the anticipation mounting in the audience. Something is different. There's an electricity in the air. The presence of Speed Racer has completely changed the equation. (May 9th, 2008)

[taintedcigs]

i knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss series by @andvys ♡

steve is slipping through your fingers and you desperately hold onto him not realizing that his heart isn't yours anymore, or is it?

[everypanelofizuku]

Chapter 83 - Loss

[thebigqueer]

see my take is that i dont condone caits actions at all however she matches vis freak too much to not ship them in my eyes. and also i feel like the show wanted to give more depth & time to cait's "redemption" arc but it was so rushed that we never actually got to see that arc of cait realizing the consequences of her actions. i think its something thats implied to have happened off screen given the way caits already challenging ambessa but we never got that backstory so we dont actually know what was going through her mind or what led her to change her mind about ambessa.

[arcanesarts]

it's pocket mirror remastered release day everyone play the game or else. (or else i cry a little)

[wayfayrr]

I hope life eases up soon man, take care of yourself

Thanks mate <3

stuff's starting to gradually get better now, actually let myself feel feelings after bottling them till it popped

just kinda turns out that throwing yourself into something so you're numb to the other things can really burn you out :') So I'm trying to find motivation to write and answer asks again, I'm hoping it'll be soon but idk atp

[bikananjarrus]

two years of production between 8 episode seasons is killing television fr

[sunnetrolls]

✨ The forgotten third deity...

[autisticlee]

I always think about how nice and fun it would be to have friend who have the same interests and enjoy doing the same things as me.

but the reality is, most of the people I call friend or who try to be my friend have almost nothing in common with me. our interests are always different. we don't enjoy any of the same activities. there's never anything to talk about or do together. our vibes and energy dont match. our goals are different. it's a struggle to have a conversation beyond the dreaded small talk or figure out what to do if we hang out.

I usually try to befriend people based on a shared interest, usually being my special interest. usually that's the only thing we have in common, but it brings us together and we bond amazingly at first. once one or both of us lose interest in the thing, we slowly stop talking until we never speak again.

I never know how to talk to people I dont have anything in common with, especially if it's not the base of our friendship. I never learned how to do that. I often see allistics being friends when they don't seem to share interests of talk/hang out based on a shared interest and it confuses me. I don't understand how they do that. I wish I could. maybe it would be easier for people to not become bored of me or boring to me 😅

it still sounds nice to have friends that I have many things in common with, always have a thing to talk about and share with each other, and always have something to do together that we enjoy. how do you even find people like that 🥹

[niilue]

—when you hear vi call caitlyn cupcake, hurt and jealousy remind you that, no matter how much it hurts, you will never be more than a shadow in her life.—

cw: female reader, angst, jealousy, emotional pain, drama, this is short tho…. maybe need a sec. part

part ii

you remain motionless, feeling the heat of anger begin to crawl up your neck, setting every nerve in your body on fire. your fists clench at your sides, nails digging into your palms, and the taste of rage mixes with something uglier, something harder to swallow: jealousy.

you don’t want to feel this way. you shouldn’t feel this way, because you have no right. you and vi are nothing, there are no promises or bonds that allow you to claim any part of her. but the fact that vi still calls her “cupcake” after everything that happened, after how caitlyn left her hurt and alone, makes you sick. because you were the one who was there. you were the one who found vi after that fight, doubled over in pain, trying to hide her vulnerability behind a broken smile.

you remember those nights underground, when vi got drunk to bury the disappointment and threw herself into stupid fights, looking for blows that might distract her from the real pain. it was you who followed her, who made sure she didn’t end up with her head cracked open in a dark alley, who endured her shouts and outbursts when you tried to help her. you took care of her, even when she didn’t want you to, even when you knew she would never thank you for it.

but here you are now, standing like an idiot, watching vi call caitlyn by that nickname, as if none of it mattered, as if everything you did for her was insignificant. you feel something break inside you, something you had been trying so hard to hold together. the fury and sadness swirl in your chest, and for a second, you can’t breathe.

“really?” you spit out the words, your voice full of venom before you can stop yourself. vi turns to you, her blue eyes narrowing in confusion. there’s something in her expression that makes your blood boil even more, as if she can’t understand why you’re so upset. as if the fact that this hurts you is a mystery.

“what?” vi frowns, crossing her arms over her chest as if preparing for a confrontation. you can see how the muscles of her abdomen still tense slightly, a reminder of where caitlyn hit her with the shotgun, and that only fuels your anger.

you step forward, and your words come out fast and full of rage. “cupcake? seriously? after everything that happened?” your voice trembles, and you hate how vulnerable you sound, but you can’t stop. “after she left you lying in the dirt, kicking up dust, because she decided you weren’t worth it? after i was the one who had to pick up your pieces, who tried to keep you from beating yourself to death out of your own damn self-destructiveness?”

vi blinks, clearly taken aback by the intensity of your words. her lips part, and you can see how she hardens, how her eyes become sharp, as if trying to find something to say, some kind of defense. but you don’t give her the chance.

“i was the one who was there,” you continue, and your voice cracks, but you push on. “i was the one who made sure you didn’t bleed out in some alley, who tried to make you feel like you weren’t alone. but of course, that doesn’t matter, right?!” your throat tightens, and you feel tears burning behind your eyes, but you force them to stay where they are. you won’t cry. not here, not now.

vi clenches her jaw, and her eyes flash with something you can’t decipher. “why do you care so much?” she asks, and though her tone is defensive, there’s something else there, something that seems uncertain. as if she can’t understand why all of this affects you so deeply. “why are you acting like… like this is personal?”

the silence that follows is almost deafening. your heart beats so hard that it feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest, and for a second, you can’t find the words. because you don’t have an answer you can give her without revealing everything you’ve been trying to deny.

“because…” you try, and your voice breaks again. you can’t tell her that you’ve started to feel something for her, something that scares you and hurts you and fills you with hope all at once. you can’t tell her that just seeing her smile at caitlyn, hearing her use that damned nickname, makes you feel like nothing more than a shadow in her life, someone who will always come second.

“because we’re nothing,” you finally say, and each word is a dagger in your chest. “and we might never be anything, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.” your voice is a whisper full of bitterness, and your shoulders slump slightly, as if the weight of your own emotions is too much to bear.

vi watches you, and you can see how her expression changes. there’s something in her eyes, a mix of guilt and something you can’t quite identify, but you don’t say anything else. you take a step back, shaking your head, trying to push away the storm of feelings that threatens to break you.

“forget it,” you murmur, and you turn around before vi can see how hurt you are. “it doesn’t matter.”

but as you walk away, letting the distance grow between you, you know that it does matter. it matters more than you want to admit, and even though you hate feeling this way, you know that this pain, this jealousy, won’t go away so easily.

[suiana]

imagine yandere! drider who makes himself at home in the corner of your room one day.

you come home from work, absolutely tired and just wanting to have a break... only to hear a weird scratching sound coming from your room. what the hell could it be? surely it's just your imagination? so you make your way towards your room nonchalantly, pushing the door open and...

"wha-?!"

"oh, darling."

you freeze, staring at this... absolutely gorgeous drider who had made himself at home in the corner of your room... you were originally going to let things be until you saw the many tiny babies on the back of his spider lower body. screaming and throwing your bag at him, you slam your door shut and run away from your room as fast as you could. shit, shit, shit! a spider dilf?!

...you were going to escape until you hit your toe and started crying on the ground. the drider came out of the room (with babies and all) and nursed you back to health.

and that was your first meeting with the hot asf spider dilf in your room.

you later learned that he was surprisingly gentle and didn't mean for you to be scared by his appearance. you wanted to tell him the truth. that well, you weren't scared by his appearance, sure, you were stunned when you saw this whole ass grown dude in your room but he was hot so it doesn't really matter. but rather, his kids scared the hell out of you with their tiny beady eyes. however... you're sure that if you said that, he'd try and kill you. you've seen how caring and loving he is with his tiny spider babies after all.

you've also come to learn that he really loves making intricate web designs. designs that absolutely sparkle when the light hits them in a certain way... they're all so beautiful and mesmerizing that you can't help but compliment him whenever you can.

"hey, your patterns are beautiful as usual dude."

"ah... thank you love."

he blushes, avoiding eye contact as he shakily pulls out a flower from behind his back. right, he's been giving you these gifts at random too. it's cute. well, not when he just started out though. he used to gift you dead rats.

you were horrified when you woke up one day and saw a dead rat on your desk. what the fuck?! your drider roomie didn't seem all too phased, even looking at you expectantly as he waits for a compliment. you had to explain to him that humans don't accept gifts like that. he looked rather deflated the rest of the day after that. talking about how his spouse must hate him and stuff. you didn't know he had a spouse.

you've also realized that he's weirdly overprotective of you.

you can't even go out on dates anymore. or... talk to anyone for that matter. he once threw your phone at a wall when he saw you texting this guy you were planning on meeting up. he also gets all pissy and starts making weird spider sounds while his children crawl around your feet. you were super grossed out by that at first but you've grown used to it by now.

"dude stop, i just want to go on a date!"

"no."

"why?!"

"you already have me! that's why!"

he gets all pouty, arms crossed over his huge tits as he nags you about trying to cheat on him. you never really said anything about that before. surely he's just roleplaying because you sometimes act like his lover by giving him food and asking how he is. but this has gone too far! you have to say something!

"we aren't dating, what are you on about?"

"yeah, because we're married."

what.

you stare at him, jaw dropping as his kids tug on your pants and chat noisily. did he just... say you guys were married? you try searching his face for any lies, only to be hit by the fact that he was serious.

that's when everything starts to suddenly fit together in your mind. the gifts, the name-calling, the fact that his kids love you... damn, maybe it was also because you complimented his webs that solidified his belief that you two were together. you read somewhere that male spiders make patterns to impress potential mates.

"um..."

"hmph! don't go on any dates anymore. i can't believe you keep trying to be unfaithful. our kids will be sad you know!"

damn it, looks like you got yourself a drider husband now.

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : ASLEEP IN HIS ARMS : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Logan Howlett x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: you often struggle with fatigue and tend to fall asleep easily, sometimes mid-conversation or while watching TV with Logan. At first, he’s unsure how to react, worried that something might be wrong, but as your relationship grows, he becomes more accustomed to it. He starts to find comfort in the way you trust him enough to fall asleep on his shoulder or in his lap. Logan quietly cares for you, gently adjusting to your needs, and cherishes the peaceful moments where you sleep in his arms, feeling protective and close to you.

Based on this request.

THE SOFT HUM OF THE TELEVISION BARELY FILLED THE QUIET OF THE LIVING ROOM. Logan sat on the couch, legs stretched out, one arm casually draped over the backrest. His eyes flickered toward the clock on the wall and then back down to you—your head resting gently on his shoulder, breathing slow and steady. You had fallen asleep again, the same way you always did.

You hadn’t been dating long, just a few months, and everything still felt new and exciting, but also a little uncertain. Logan wasn’t used to this—this softness, this quiet kind of intimacy. At first, he wasn’t sure how to react. The first time it happened, you two had been watching a movie together. About halfway through, your laughter grew quieter, and you leaned into him a little more.

“Hey, you okay?” he’d asked, glancing down at you. He felt your body relax against his, and when he looked closer, your eyes were closed.

You were already asleep.

He wasn’t sure what to do. His initial thought was that you must’ve been bored out of your mind—he hadn’t picked the most riveting movie. But the longer he sat there, feeling the warmth of your body against his and listening to your steady breathing, the more his concern shifted to something else. Were you sick? Had you been sleeping okay?

He didn’t want to wake you, though. You looked peaceful, your lips slightly parted, your face soft in sleep. But curiosity gnawed at him. Once the movie ended, he gently shook you awake.

“Hm?” you mumbled, blinking your eyes open.

“Hey,” Logan said softly, his eyes searching yours. “You fell asleep.”

You blinked again, straightening up a little and rubbing your eyes. “Oh… I did?” Your voice was groggy, still thick with sleep.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah. Everything okay? You seemed really tired.”

You gave a small, sheepish smile, pulling your knees up to your chest. “Yeah, I get like that sometimes. I dunno… just tired a lot lately.”

“Like, all the time?” His brow furrowed slightly, concern creeping into his voice.

You nodded, leaning your head back against the couch. “Yeah, pretty much. It’s not a big deal, though. I’ve always been like this—get sleepy out of nowhere, sometimes.”

Logan had tried to understand, but it threw him off at first. He hadn’t really known anyone who could just pass out like that, so effortlessly. It wasn’t like you were doing anything exhausting; sometimes, you’d just lay your head on his shoulder and within minutes, you’d be asleep, even during conversations. He couldn’t help but feel a bit strange about it at the beginning—did you feel comfortable? Were you okay?

But as weeks passed, he began to notice that it wasn’t boredom or disinterest. It was just… you. Sometimes you’d yawn, lean your head against his chest, and within minutes, you’d be fast asleep, the world drifting away. It was just how your body worked.

Now, it had almost become second nature. Like tonight, for example. You had planned to watch something together, but you barely made it through the opening scene before you nestled up next to him and dozed off. Logan smiled softly to himself, looking down at you again.

His fingers gently brushed a stray lock of hair away from your face. He could hear your steady breathing, could feel the weight of your trust as you relaxed completely against him.

A part of him had grown used to this—this quiet routine where you found comfort in him, even when fatigue pulled you under so quickly. He loved it, honestly. It was endearing how you trusted him enough to fall asleep without a second thought.

After a while, he stopped feeling awkward about it. Now, when you nuzzled into his side, he’d just let his arm wrap around your shoulders, pulling you in closer. Sometimes he’d switch off the TV and let you sleep while he’d sit there with a book, content just to have you near him. It wasn’t about what you were missing—he realized it was about being there, even if it was in silence.

You stirred slightly, shifting in your sleep. Logan looked down, his hand gently rubbing your arm. “You okay?” he whispered, not really expecting an answer.

You mumbled something incoherent, and he chuckled. He adjusted slightly, careful not to wake you, and leaned back into the cushions. His fingers absentmindedly traced small circles on your arm, and he found himself smiling. This had become your thing now, and though it wasn’t something he had expected, he wouldn’t change it for the world.

But tonight, as you lay there, he couldn’t help but feel like maybe you were overworking yourself. Tomorrow, he’d ask you again—make sure you were taking care of yourself, ask if there was anything he could do. He’d thought about mentioning seeing a doctor, but he didn’t want to push too hard. For now, though, he’d just be here.

After a little while, Logan shifted slightly, careful not to disturb you as he reached for the remote. He turned off the TV and rested his head back on the couch. You didn’t stir this time, just pressed a little closer to him, your hand resting on his chest.

He smiled softly, his heart warming at the simple gesture. The quiet of the room felt comforting, and despite the small pang of worry that lingered in the back of his mind, he felt peaceful in moments like these. The trust you showed him, how easily you fell asleep in his arms—it made him feel something deeper than he could put into words.

“I’ll take care of you,” he murmured quietly, his voice so low he wasn’t even sure if he had said it out loud. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, feeling the warmth of your skin against his lips.

And even though you couldn’t hear him, not really, you shifted just enough to let him know that, in some way, you understood.

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