#not sure where it was it was a bedroom maybe his

[poguehearted77]

Imagine y’all just had the fight of your lives (maybe over his dumb gun or something equally Rafe), but later when you’re lying on opposite sides of the bed, he reaches out and pulls you close and says somthing cute or annoying idk And then, oh my GOD—it’s slow, emotional, and HOT because making up with Rafe would be next-level intense. please i NEEED😫😩

OH MY GOD YES. SOME SWEET RAFE AND EVEN SWEETER MAKE UP SEX AFTER A HUGE FIGHT. NEED IT.

#2 from my drabble game

smut: penetrative sex, some praise, I love you's, unprotected sex

Rafe is in deep shit.

You know that, he knows that-- hell, even your pet beagle, Poppy knew it. For once, she bolted away the moment the front door opened, and your oh-so-handsome, conniving and deceitful boyfriend walked in instead of running towards him.

Rafe is a dead man walking. How ironic would it be if he were to die at your hands with the very same gun he'd promised you he'd gotten rid of.

His body goes rigid when he sees the weapon in your palm. A nervous gulp falls down his throat as he does his best to stand tall. "Where did you get that?" That's what he asks you, he should've never opened his mouth.

You scoff immediately, carelessly angling it around as your upset mannerisms control your arms. "Get it? You mean where did I find it." He doesn't respond which is a wise choice.

"Mr. Montogommery called me earlier, he was looking for you--said you weren't answering your phone. He asked me to leave you a message," You're pacing now, and it made Rafe nervous. You're a little crazy, but so was he. It's why you went so well together.

"Like the good girlfriend I am, I opened your office drawer for a sticky note to leave on your desk, but what did I find? The same gun you told me would never be back in the house, Rafe are you serious?!" Your arms are flailing and he's half-certain he'll catch a stray by the end of the conversation.

He steps towards you with his hands up cautiously, "Baby, give me the gun, and we can talk about this." You snap, "No! Why should I? You don't trust me with it? Why because it's dangerous? Because it could kill you! You're right, Rafe. Why didn't I think of that sooner--oh wait, I did! And you fucking lied to me, Rafe."

Your voice is enraged and bouncing off the ivory-panelled walls of the house but it dies down to a shaky one as tears threaten to spill over the brims of your eyes. "Y/n-" He holds his hand out for you, but you give him the gun instead.

You execute a sharp pivot on the tips of your toes, ready to walk away from him but he finally speaks up and you stop--not turning around, standing still, anticipating. "I'm not getting rid of the gun." It's all he says.

Had you been in the mood, you would've turned around, lounged at him and strangled him, but no, you just kept walking.

Your bedroom is freezing that night, despite it being the middle of summer, and it only gets colder everytime you glance towards Rafe as he gets ready for the bed you begrudgingly shared.

Your expression remains sour, even in your sleep, no matter how far away from your boyfriend you are. There's enough room to fit a full-grown adult between you. The isolation was holding the production of your melatonin hostage, forcing you both to lay awake, backs facing each other but hearts reaching out.

Rafe flips onto his side, staring longingly at the back of your frame. He missed you and you were right in front of him. "Baby," His voice is soft, and the pet name lands on you gently, a testament that your anger has subsided a bit.

You turn over, choosing to lie on your back and face the ceiling. You deem that he's undeserving to see your face at the moment. "I've got another gun in my nightstand." You blamed your miscomprehension on the late hours of the night because surely he did not just say what you think he said.

Rafe can see the way your chest began to rise and fall at a much more shallow pace, he had about five seconds to start explaining before you turned on him. "I told you about my past. I've done some bad things. 'Burying the hatchet' doesn't exist for everyone, and I want to be prepared for anything. When I look at a gun now, it's not a weapon anymore, it's a tool. It's protection."

Your breathing slowed, a little. He takes it as a good sign. "I can't lose you. If something happened to you when I could've prevented it, I'd never forgive myself, and I know you know that." He's right. You did know that. He dedicated his life to you, making sure that you knew that. "I shouldn't have lied about getting rid of it, and I'm sorry."

Your breathing returns to its normal pace. You lay on your side, now facing him. "Fine." Rafe scoots closer to you, a small grin working its way on his lips. "Fine?" You nod, "Yeah, fine. I forgive you, this time, but don't you ever pull some shit like this again or so help me god I will-" He quiets you with a sweet kiss.

Well, it started sweet at least.

Now you're both watching him slide in. Your warm cunt wrapped around his length delightfully. "You're fuckin' perfect, too good f'me." He groans into your ear. His muscular arms cage you in, and you've decided you'd be more than happy to die between them.

Your soft moans bounced off his brawny chest and right back in your face, "Feels so good, Rafe-" Yougaspedp as he picked up the pace, hips rolling into yours for a much deeper angle. Your back arches off the bed slightly as sweat rolls down your back and sticks to the sheets.

It wasn't long before you were both chasing your highs. Rafe always sounded so fucking hot when he was close, his deep groans pitching up to breathless whines when you purposefully clenched around him, threatening him to fill you up unrestrained. Once you came, he pulled out and finished on your heaving stomach, catching your breath.

He doesn't get off of you just yet. He balances himself on one forearm as the other hand comes up to gently move the strands of hair from your face, "I love you," he means it, his eyes say it when his mouth does. "I love you".

[standamianwayne]

yandere!batfam/damian’s twin!reader

okay so! in these neglected!reader fics Dick is almost always the one who’s like trying to reach out the most. because of this, personally(!) i feel like he’s the kinda guy who just wants his family to be whole so he kinda takes up the position of like father+brother combined (eldest child syndrome lowkey). he kinda becomes the most present figure in the twins’ lives and i think it goes double for reader tbh.

like breakfast lunch dinner Dick is right there with her and yaps her ear off. i think that where Bruce is the kinda dad that wants you to finish what you start, Dick is the kinda brother that’s like “if you don’t wanna do it, then don’t” ykwim? wanna do ballet? he’s at every recital. hate it? well, it wasn’t for you anyways! any practice, game, show, concert, he’s there. and if you decide you absolutely hate whatever it is, he’s there for you too!

just like general supportive older brother, but turned up juuuust a smidge. i feel like in the yandere aspect, he’s not really the type to go try and murder someone. sure he might hurt someone, but he’d at least want to avoid murder. it’s more like he’s gonna try and keep her home/with him as much as possible. like where are you going? it’s family game night! when did we start family game nights? don’t worry about it! now come on, it’s monopoly.

jason, on the other, WOULD probably kill someone. buuuuut i think it’s more so if she get physically hurt by someone would he be pushed to murder. emotionally? he’ll probably just beat them up and threaten them. but if they put their hands on her? mmm yeah you’re dead. sorry!

i feel like jason, who’s literally died and come back to life consumed by rage, would see reader as the opposite of himself. as good, where he is bad. and i think that on one hand he wants to push her away, to not taint her with the darkness that consumes him. but on the other hand, he’s had so much taken from him, seen death at every corner, even met the man face-to-face. can’t he be selfish just this once?

so, in the early hours of the morning, before the sun comes up and his duty as Red Hood is done for the night, he seeks her out. he comes back to the manor, climbing through her bedroom window. she’s still asleep and he just stands there, listening, watching, reminding himself that she is alive and so is he. he doesn’t touch her, he can’t— can’t poison her good with his bad. so, he settles for observing. maybe one day he can work up the courage to speak with her, seek her comfort. but for now, he’s content with simply existing around her.

tim is also an observer in like a borderline stalker kinda way. makes everybody download life360 but he watches her location like a hawkkkk. also gifts her a phone that’s totally safe i swear! don’t mind that any texts from an ex or someone that you have bad blood disappear right after you get them. they probably just unsent them!

he’s like Dick in that he tries to convince her to stay home often. but his way of doing it is… different. you wanna go for a walk on this street? actually there’s footage of a robbery that took place near there recently, probably not safe. wanna go to a friend’s house? um, according to their school records, they got detention in 5th grade. that’s a bad influence, girl! don’t worry, we can play mario kart or something instead!

with duke i feel like, compared to the others, he’s the closest you’ll get to a regular brother. he’s the closest in age to the twins and he joined the batfam after damian in canon. he’s also very kind and soft(?) so it’s unlikely he’s gonna go full stalker and/or killer over his sister. don’t get me wrong, he could kick ass if needed. but when it comes to reader, he’s mostly just trying to bond with her. watching movies in his room, sneaking out to get ice cream together, even at the ‘Wayne Galas’ he’ll stick by her side.

duke is veryyy caring and passionate, plus i feel like he’s sympathetic as well. so when you need comforting, he’s probably the best to go to. cause he won’t be the kind to go find whoever made you upset and ‘talk to’ them. instead, he’s gonna comfort his sis! unless it was someone who physically hurt her, then he’ll probably pay them a visit. but he’s not gonna kill them, i just can’t see him doing that.

next up the batgirls 😛 just as a note this is all my interpretation of the characters. if you think it’s ooc, no you didn’t ❤️

also does anyone have a preference of using third person (she, her) or second (you, your)? i might switch to ‘you’ when i write the batgirls so its not confusing, but if anyone has a preference, let me know!

and thank you all so much for the love on the first part!!!! i’ve never uploaded fanfic before so this is so new to me 😅 but i appreciate it sm! love yall! ❤️

[covenofagatha]

Could you write Agatha/reader where the reader discovers they have a nursing kink 🫠 The ending of chp2 of sugar&spice was so so comforting

I don't know if this is exactly what you had in mind for this request, but hopefully you still like it! Thank you to everyone who voted for this, here you go!!

Nurtured Desires

When your mom's best friend who just had a baby gets caught without a pump, you take matters into your own hands to help her out.

Word count: 1900+

Warnings: nursing kink, lactation, fingering

You’ve always found your mom’s best friend, Agatha Harkness, incredibly attractive. 

But ever since she gave birth three months ago, there’s been something even hotter about her. 

Maybe it’s the way she’s always exhausted but still finds time to smile at you when she sees you. 

Maybe it’s her nurturing side on display that’s tapping into some unresolved mommy issues you have. 

Or maybe it’s the way her breasts are huge and full and she makes no effort to hide her cleavage. 

You feel like a gross guy every time you find your eyes drifting down, but who can blame you? 

You’re pretty sure Agatha has seen you staring a few times, too. But every time, she just gives you a smirk with an imperceptible shake of her head, like she’s scolding you because she knows that she should, not that she wants to.

Her kid, Nicholas, is cute enough. You don’t really know enough about babies to have an opinion, but he gurgles and giggles when he sees you sometimes. When you hold out your finger to him, he’ll grab it with his entire fist and it makes you smile. 

Your mom had been named Nicky’s godmother and you had tagged along with her to the baptism. You can still remember how it felt when Agatha had hugged you, pressing her breasts against your chest. You had been able to think of very little else during the ceremony. 

Agatha had the two of you over to her house a lot after her son was born. Your mom was all too happy to help out, as Nicky’s father was barely ever home and Agatha was exhausted. You kept the older woman company while doing homework for your college classes in the kitchen while she prepared a light snack or in the living room while she caught up on the newest episode of the show she was watching. 

But it was inevitable that Nicky would start crying and Agatha would have to take him into her bedroom to feed him. 

Is it weird that you wanted to know what it was like?

Never before had you been so transfixed by the thought of that, and you had been around several of your mom’s and older sister’s friends who had given birth. 

But everytime, when Agatha could come back out of the room, holding Nicky with her shirt unbuttoned more than it had been, you couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy. 

There is something especially different about today. 

It’s Thanksgiving, and every year Agatha has a lunch where she invites people from the neighborhood over. Her husband has taken Nicky to his parents’ house to give her a break and it seems like she is back to her normal self.

But Agatha has decided to wear a short, tight, navy dress with a very low cut, reminding you that something was still not normal. 

You’re practically drooling over her. There are several times that someone says something to you that you don’t even hear because you’re too busy staring. 

Is she wearing a push-up bra? How are they that perky? You’ve never wanted to suck on something more. 

You physically shake your head to get rid of those thoughts. 

She is your best friend’s mom. She just had a baby. She is married. 

You repeat those sentences like a mantra as you finish helping cook the food. You’ve been tasked with making mashed potatoes, which is a pretty easy job. 

Finally the meal is ready, and while you’re setting the table with your mom and another friend of hers, you notice that Agatha is nowhere to be found. You frown and check back in the kitchen. She’s not there. 

“Mom, did Agatha go to the bathroom?” You ask, hoping she doesn't ask why you care so much. Your mom shrugs absentmindedly, too focused on balancing the plate of cranberry sauce with the bowl of casserole so she doesn’t drop either. 

You glance at the hall bathroom to find the door open. Spurred on by something, you head up the stairs, just to make sure Agatha’s alright. It’s not like her to just disappear. 

“Agatha?” You call out and you hear a muffled sound coming from her bedroom. You can hear the front door open downstairs and you assume more guests are arriving. You tentatively walk into her room, the floor creaking. 

And that’s where you find her sitting on the bed, her back to you. 

“You okay?” You ask, not really sure what’s going on or how to explain what you’re doing. 

She sniffs and turns around and your jaw falls open. 

There’s two damp spots on her chest, visible on the navy material. 

“Uh–” You have no idea what to say. 

“I’m such an idiot, I had all the nursing stuff in Nicky’s bag and it’s with my husband, and I thought I would be okay,” she mutters angrily and you walk over to where she’s sitting, as if in a trance. You think you can smell it. 

“Is there anything I can do?” You ask breathily, falling to your knees in front of her. It sounds like you’re on something and she looks at you with surprise and maybe a little of something else. 

“You want to help me?” Her eyebrow raises like she’s daring you, but you don’t back down. You nod and her lips part. You think her pupils are dilating. “I see you staring, you know. You’re not subtle.” 

You shrug shamelessly, hands coming up to rest on her bare thighs. She gasps as the touch. You think she must be so sensitive. “Let me help, please,” you beg, staring up at her. 

She holds your gaze for a second and then obliges, reaching behind her to drag the dress zipper down. Your heart stutters in your chest when the front of the dress loosens and more and more of her pale skin is revealed. She’s wearing what looks like a special kind of bra and you move to touch without even realizing. 

You cup her swollen breast and run your thumb over her nipple through the fabric. Agatha’s breath hitches and she bites her lip, eyes watching you through hooded lashes. 

“Baby,” Agatha says, silently communicating what she needs, and you pull her right breast out over the bra, sit up on your knees, and take her leaking nipple into your mouth. 

Her head falls back and you moan at the taste. It’s so warm and rich and you start suckling, just wanting to bring her some relief. 

“Fuck,” she says sharply and you feel a spark of heat grow inside you. You keep drawing out the milk and her hand comes down to grab your left one and bring it to her other breast. You scrabble with her bra and she eventually gets fed up and reaches behind her to take it off. You have to take your mouth off of her for a second and she whines at the loss of the stimulation, but you quickly make up for it by sucking her other nipple into your mouth. 

The spark has become an ache, but you’re too caught up in the taste of the older woman to care. 

You use your teeth and tug and her fingers bury into your hair, holding you close. You can hear her making small noises and you switch your mindless lapping to a slow, steady rhythm of deep sucks. She brushes your hair out of your face so she can see you better and is perfectly content to watch you like that. 

You move back to the right nipple, but play with the left with your free fingers. She whimpers when you’re particularly rough with a suck and her hips jerk. 

You freeze around her breast and meet her eyes, which are completely glazed over with lust and desire. 

“Please touch me,” she whispers, hands moving down to hike up her dress. “I need it so bad.” 

Who are you to say no? You reach up under her skirt and feel her underwear and you gasp, her nipple dropping out of your mouth. 

She is soaked. Her underwear is dripping. You wouldn’t be surprised if there was a puddle on the bed under her. You almost cum on the spot. 

You slide them to the side and push two fingers in easily, eyes widening at the feeling of her warm and wet walls clenching around you. Agatha inhales above you and drags your mouth back to her nipple. You latch on, resuming your sucking, and you start moving your fingers. You curl with every thrust, teething harder on her nipples and drinking her milk, and she bucks her hips up every time. You rub her clit with your thumb and her moans are getting louder with all the stimulation. 

“Fuck, baby, so good, so close,” she pants. You can feel her getting tighter around you and you increase the pace of your fingers, sucking rougher. 

She cums and it’s explosive. There’s a gush of milk into your mouth and the hand on her other nipple gets drenched. You fuck her through her orgasm, still sucking the remaining milk out of her, until it gets too much and she pushes you off. 

You’re both breathing hard. You can feel how sticky and wet you’ve become between your legs, but you know better than to ask Agatha for help with that now. You're not sure what this even was.

“Feel better?” You joke and she chuckles, ruffling her hair. 

“Yes, thank you, dear. You seemed like you enjoyed that.” 

Now it’s your turn to laugh. “Yeah, I didn’t really know I was into that. Anytime Nicky isn’t around, just call me up.” It’s meant to be a jestful quip, but her eyes darken. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She muses and the blush on your face gives you away. “Okay, go back downstairs now and rejoin the party. We’ve both been gone long enough. I need to change clothes.” You start to move but she stops you. “Oh–and sweetheart?” 

You pause and look back at her. Agatha swipes her thumb across your chin and holds it up, milk droplets coating it. Before thinking, you take it into your mouth and suck, much like you had just been doing to her nipples. Her low groan excites you, but she’s right. At the very least, your mom is wondering where you were. 

“Thank you,” she says with genuine gratitude in her voice and you smile. “Now, go.” She playfully swats your shoulder to shoo you away and you bite back the urge to ask if it’ll happen again. 

You glance back when you get to the door just in time to catch a hint of her naked body and you have to force yourself out of the room so you don’t accidentally go back in for more. 

When you go downstairs, your mom immediately finds you. 

“Where have you been?” She asks. “The food is all ready, we’ve already started eating.” 

“Oh, I had to help Agatha with something.” Technically not a lie. 

She purses her lips but can’t complain. “Well, come get some food before it’s all gone.” 

There’s footsteps on the stairs and you look up to find Agatha walking down in a maroon suit and your mouth runs dry. She sees you staring – like always – and gives you a wink. 

“You know, I’m not really hungry,” you say to your mom, completely distracted by the older woman and the taste of her milk that’s still on your tongue. 

[lucysarah-c]

Mounting Spring Ch. 4

Summary: Paradis has opened its doors to the world, and the Rumbling has not yet occurred. The military board insists, "We need more Ackermans!" to avoid ruining Mikasa's life. Levi agrees. Arranged marriage, explicit consent, Omegaverse. Alpha! Levi x Omega! Y/N. Mentions of underage marriage but it doesn't happen, the reader is over 21.Age gap but they are both adults. (I would say enemys to lover but they don't even know eachother to be enemys lol.) Author note: I've had this idea for so long… Omegaverse is my guilty pleasure, and I decided to treat myself with it. From the creator of "Not in season?" I bring to you "Mounting Spring" lmao haha sorry it's just that my first omegaverse was rather a success… so I decided to do another. Masterlist to the previous parts! Ao3 link in case you prefer to read there!

A weariness clung to his body, one he couldn’t quite explain beyond being so utterly drained that even taking a shower felt like a monumental effort.

With a weary sigh, he pushed himself up from where he’d been slouched against the desk and slowly blew out the candles scattered around the office. Darkness didn’t bother him. He was used to it—had spent years orienting himself in the black void of the underground. The faint moonlight spilling through the window was more than enough. Compared to those shadowed depths, this was child’s play.

That night, the moon seemed unusually bright. His tired gaze drifted to the large arched window behind his desk. Waxing moon… or was it full already?

‘Don’t they say some bullshit about omegas going into heat during the full moon?’

He scoffed. “Urban myth,” he muttered. It sounded like something out of a witch’s tale. But, come to think of it, wasn’t she supposed to be in season?

The stack of paperwork on his desk taunted him with the reminder that he’d probably have to pull an all-nighter. The thought made his jaw clench. After everything that had happened that day, he muttered a curt, “Fuck it,” and extinguished the last candle. The room plunged into shadow as he dragged himself toward the bathroom.

But then his attention snagged on the slightly ajar door leading to his bedroom. It wasn’t wide open, but it wasn’t shut either—a hesitation in its placement that mirrored her presence in his life. Maybe she didn’t feel she had the right to close it entirely. Or perhaps she didn’t want to invite him in.

Levi wasn’t sure what possessed him to check. Maybe he wanted to ensure she was asleep. Maybe it was just an excuse, though he hated the idea of coming off as some kind of creep.

The silence in the room was oppressive, broken only by the sound of his footsteps. His sharp ears picked up no stirring from the other side of the door. She was asleep—curled into a small ball beneath the blankets. Her face was peaceful, framed by a tangle of hair splayed across the pillow.

‘She looks young,’ he thought absently, then corrected himself: Younger.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and tore his gaze away. “I shouldn’t be doing this,” he muttered, retreating into the safety of the bathroom.

As he stripped off his clothes, a faint scent clung to the fabric. It wasn’t unpleasant—not even close—but it was strong enough to make his body react in a way he resented.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, frowning deeply. “It’s not my fault,” he groaned, trying to shake the thought from his head. She wasn’t in heat, after all. If she had been, he’d already be climbing the walls. He grimaced at the thought of what that would’ve meant—both a curse and a convenience. Her hormones would have made her eager, desperate even, and he… well, he wouldn’t have had the luxury to hesitate. Instinct would’ve taken over, and by now, it would all be over—messy, but over.

But she wasn’t in heat, and that was both a blessing and a complication. On one hand, it spared them both the humiliation of fumbling through something neither of them wanted. On the other hand, he was standing half-naked in his bathroom, trying to keep his thoughts clean while the girl he barely knew slept just a room away.

‘It’s like jerking off to the thought of a coworker,’ he thought with disgust. ‘Not illegal, but it feels like it.’

He needed a clear head—desperately. Most of his squad had gone through their ruts recently, their youth amplifying every primal urge. She smelled too good for a group of young, horny alphas to ignore. A cold shower might’ve been the smart choice, but the chill of the rain earlier still clung to his skin, and he just wanted to collapse into bed.

His bed wasn’t an option, though—not tonight. Instead, he grabbed a pillow from the couch in the corner of his office. He propped it against the armrest and sank down, throwing a thin gray blanket over himself. His head rested against his arm, and his other hand lazily scratched at his stomach, the hem of his shirt riding up. The dim glow of the moonlight played across the room, and he stared at the ceiling, eyes heavy but his mind restless.

“What the hell am I going to do,” he murmured to himself.

The sharpness of his fags could be perceived by his tongue that, under the foreign texture couldn’t stop feeling it. That, the thickness of his saliva and the clear feeling that his loose pants were perhaps a bit tight. It was obvious, she smelled too good, his own nature being highlighted by the time of the year and, in particular, the lack of exposure. Frowning and sighing loudly, he rolled over to a side searching for a position comfortable enough for him to fall asleep into.

Sleep came eventually. For Levi, sleeping on a couch with a makeshift pillow and a mission-worn blanket was a luxury compared to the alternatives. For once, exhaustion was kind.

On the other side of the room, her mind kept replaying the scene.

“Die. Just go. You’re making this harder for me,” she whispered, gripping the edge of the small French balcony of the borrowed household. The late-night air was cold against her skin as she stared down at the street below. It was late, the streets below barely lit, and her eyes darted nervously toward the door of her room before returning to the darkness beyond.

The young man standing below, dark-haired with striking gold eyes, still wore his military uniform. He looked up at her with an pleading expressing, “Come on, Y/N,” he called up, his voice a mix of desperation and imploring. “Are you really going to let it all go? I can talk to someone—someone higher up that with what’s going on. We can change this. You don’t have to do it.”

Her grip tightened on the balcony’s iron railing, her knuckles white with tension. She shook her head sharply, pressing her forehead to the cold metal. His words only deepened the ache inside her. Referring to her loss of the season to “what’s going on” made it sound trivial, dismissive, when it had torn her apart. “Stop it,” she whispered. Her voice trembled as she added, “I’m doing this for my family.”

“You don’t deserve this,” he said softly, his eyes locked on her. “You deserve the life you’ve worked for—just as much as your siblings do.”

“Y/N!”

The shout startled her, and she flinched, slamming the window shut as the door to her room swung open. She spun around, pressing her back against the glass, hands behind her to brace it closed. Her heart thundered in her chest, afraid of being caught—not by her two-year-old sister, but by someone who might hold more authority.

“What is it, Mae?” she asked, forcing calmness into her voice as the toddler raised her arms to be picked up. She obliged, hoisting the little girl onto her hip before sitting on the bed, her exhaustion evident. Her tangled hair framed her face, damp from the cold towels she’d used to try to soothe her pounding headache.

“Are you leaving because I used your makeup?” Mae pouted, her large, curious eyes searching Y/N’s face.

Y/N managed a tired smile. The memory of her two younger sisters destroying her makeup a few days earlier flickered briefly in her mind. Back then it had infuriated her, now it seemed like a distant worry. “No, Mae. I’m leaving because I’m getting married. Remember?” she said, her tone soft, trying to explain in a way the toddler could understand.

“What about being princesses?” Mae pouted harder.

It broke her. Tears welled in her eyes, and she pulled her sister into a tender hug. The pounding in her head and the dull ache in her lower belly were relentless, her body rebelling against her refusal to conceive this season—as if she’d had a choice.

Mae was innocence incarnate, her wide-eyed questions too pure for the weight they carried. But her older brother, on the other hand, had been no help. She’d found one of the WANTED posters of her soon-to-be husband plastered on her dressing table as a joke.

“You think this is funny?!” Y/N snapped, shaking the boy by his shoulders. Her anger surged, raw and unrestrained, but she bit back the urge to slap him. “I’m doing this for you, idiot! For you, for Ed, for Mom!”

“You’re not in charge,” the boy spat, his voice cracking but defiant. “Dad’s home, remember?”

The arrogance in his tone made her blood boil. Ever since their father’s return, the boy had become insufferable, emboldened by his status as the favored child and the budding dominance of his alpha nature.

“You want to be a man so badly? Then act like one and know your place!” she hissed, shoving the crumpled poster into his chest.

“You’re marrying a subversive,” he sneered with disdain, parroting words he clearly didn’t understand.

“I’m marrying someone who’ll make sure you don’t have to live off scraps and pity from the military, you little fool!” she snarled. Her hands trembled as frustration and heartbreak collided.

That memory dissolved into another—curled on her bed, her body wracked with cramps. The bathroom light, still on, spilled into the room. From the cracked door, she could hear her parents arguing. The light from the corridor illuminated the carpeted floor by the ajar door, casting her parents' distorted shadows like a muppets show against the ground.

“She needs to rest,” her mother said, trying to placate the man’s rising fury. “These things happens —”

“She’s ruining us!” her father screamed. “This was our chance, and she’s screwing it all up!”

Her sobs grew louder, muffled only by the pillow she pressed against her face. She lay with her back to the slightly open door, as if trying to shield herself from the conflict. They had been arguing for a while about the possibility, the events all pointing in one direction. That alone had fueled this outrage. ‘How am I going to tell them?’ The thought made her chest tighten with anxiety.

They argued over a possibility, now she had to confirmed them that it was a reality. Only minutes ago, she had walked to the bathroom—the golden light of the candle still flickering there. When her fingers came away stained with blood, the confirmation of what she already knew—her heat had passed, her body rejecting what it was supposed to do.

“She’s not doing it on purpose!” her mother argued.

“Then fix her! Give her some calming tea, call the damn doctor, do something! You think he'll keep her if she’s not useful?!”

She gripped the pillow tightly before tossing it over her head and pressing it hard against her face, as if she could make the world vanish for a moment. Silently pleading for the shouting to stop. ‘Please… just stop.’

None of the memories from the past week came to her in order; they just replayed chaotically in her mind. When her tired eyes fluttered open in the dim light of the room, she realized she had been tearing up in her sleep. The shadows cast inside the room weren’t her parents', and the voices weren’t theirs either. Sitting up slightly, she became aware of her surroundings. The sheets felt rough, and the mattress was smaller than what she was used to.

The memory of when she had fallen asleep completely eluded her, but the clock on the nightstand indicated it was already morning. She couldn’t tell by the window; the rain was still pouring heavily outside. The hushed whispers of two people on the other side of the room made her debate whether to sit up or feign sleep. She quickly chose the latter as the sound of someone opening the door reached her ears. Curling up in the bed, she pulled the sheets over her face, nearly hiding herself entirely.

With her face almost fully covered, the scent of the bed surrounded her. There was something subtly unsettling about the lingering fragrance of someone else on the sheets—a constant reminder that this wasn’t her bed. Yet, it wasn’t unpleasant. Quite the opposite, it was oddly soothing. Her decision to pretend to be asleep shifted into the realization that she could drift off again. Perhaps her subconscious was taking over, responding instinctively to the alpha's scent that enveloped her—a primal comfort, making her feel safe and protected.

—

“Hi~” came Hange’s singsong voice as they opened the door without knocking. “Knock, knock,” they added playfully, as if mocking the concept of knocking before barging in.

Levi, standing in the middle of the room with his uniform half on and a toothbrush in his mouth, turned to glance at them with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, I thought you’d be less ready at this hour,” Hange remarked, stepping fully into the room.

Levi spit out the toothpaste and wiped his mouth with a towel before muttering, “What are you doing here?” His eyes landed on the tray they carried. “And with a tray?”

“I brought breakfast for the newlywed couple!”

“Shh!” Levi hissed, moving swiftly to grab the tray before Hange accidentally dropped it. He motioned for silence, his expression stern. She was still asleep, and the message was clear.

“Sorry, sorry,” Hange whispered. As Levi set the tray on the coffee table and resumed getting ready, an unusual silence settled between them. It didn’t last long.

“So…” Hange began, their curiosity bubbling to the surface. “How was it? How is she?”

Levi ignored the question, muttering a vague reply through clenched teeth as he moved about the room, clearly trying to avoid the topic.

Hange’s sharp eyes followed him, their face shifting into a grimace as the tension grew. “I’m not exactly a purebred alpha,” they finally said, “but… you don’t smell very taken to me.”

Levi, who had just sneaked inside his room a little while ago to pick up his stuff, sighed loudly and stopped moving, giving himself a moment to respond. “… I couldn’t,” he admitted finally.

Hange pressed their lips together, unusually quiet for a moment. When Levi turned to face them, their expression said it all.

“Come on,” Levi snapped. “You’re a non-stop talker, and now you shut the hell up? Say something.”

“I’m… finding it.”

Levi rolled his eyes, grumbling in frustration.

“Oh boy…” Hange finally ventured. “Well. Maybe she was just tired? Tonight, after she’s settled—”

“We agreed I wouldn’t do it if she didn’t want to.”

The blank stare Hange gave him was enough to make Levi snap. “What did you want me to do?!”

“I don’t know?!” Hange exclaimed, throwing their arms in the air. “Claim her? Maybe?!”

From an outsider’s perspective, the exchange might have been hilarious—their expressions exaggerated, their words intense, yet still whispered fiercely to avoid waking her.

Levi scowled. “Well, excuse me. Excuse me for not being a fucking rapist.”

Hange’s attempt at a lighter tone wasn’t helping. “Some would argue that you are—you’re an alpha, after all.”

“You’re an alpha too, you idiot,” Levi shot back, finding no humor in their dark joke.

“Hardly. I’m more beta than alpha.”

Levi ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “You should’ve seen the puppy eyes she gave me. I’ve got fucking lots of kinks, but that’s not one of them.”

Hange clicked their tongue and shook their head. “Omega puppy eyes… the deadliest weapon of all.” They crossed their arms, leaning back thoughtfully. “Zackly’s going to kill you, though.”

“Tch.” Levi rolled his eyes. “He can suck my dick.”

That made Hange laugh more than they should have. “Seriously, though—what the hell are you going to do with an unclaimed omega in the middle of a military facility? I can catch her scent, and I’m a low-breed alpha.”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d help me with,” Levi admitted, reluctant to ask for help but clearly out of his depth.

Hange didn’t answer, instead moving toward the door.

“No, no, no,” Levi muttered, darting across the room to stop them, but they had already cracked it open to peek inside.

“You’re going to wake her up,” Levi hissed, his whisper dropping to an even lower register.

Hange ignored him, their eyes fixed on the small portion of her face visible above the sheets. “… What about a convent? Maybe I can talk to a priest.”

“A convent?” Levi echoed in disbelief as his exasperation grew “That’s your solution?”

“Either that or bars on all the windows. No one gets in, no one gets out.” Hange turned to him, smirking.

Levi shot them his best deadpan expression. “We’ve gone from a convent to a prison. And you’re supposed to be the brains here?”

“I gave you a solution,” Hange retorted, leaning closer as their whispered argument continued. “Claim her.”

“I can’t!” Levi snapped, his frustration boiling over.

“Then trust,” Hange said, spreading their arms in a gesture of faith. “Then trust our soldiers. I trust them—they’ll behave,” though their tone sounded less certain with each word. “Maybe Jean will get a little too excited, like a puppy with a new toy, but he’s a good kid.”

Levi’s flat expression didn’t waver. “You trust Floch around her without me in the picture?”

The brunette, who had been sporting a confident, almost cheerful smile while defending the few original members of the Scouts before they were nearly wiped out, suddenly shifted to a serious, defeated expression. Waving a hand in the air, they muttered, "You made your point loud and clear."

The silence that followed was thick, as both stood by the door frame. Levi, arms crossed, was deep in thought. Meanwhile, Hange continued to stare at her, their eyes scanning her face across the dimly lit room.

"I’ll just… lock her up here for a couple of days until her scent calms down. It’s not ideal, but—"

Levi’s quiet musings, spoken with a defeated tone, were abruptly interrupted by Hange muttering under their breath, "She’s hella cute, though."

Levi’s hand moved to pinch the bridge of his nose, clicking his tongue in frustration.

"What? Can’t I compliment your wife?" the brunette asked jokingly, still admiring the sleeping girl. They tilted their head to the side, trying to get a better view. "You’re one lucky bastard."

"Four-eyes!" Levi snapped, using the old nickname he hadn’t used in years out of respect for his friend’s new position. The commander chuckled. "Stop staring at her," Levi ordered.

"I’m doing nothing," Hange shrugged, though their eyes remained fixed on the sleeping girl.

"I can fucking smell you, idiot!" Levi growled, clearly indicating that he could easily detect how Hange’s body reacted to his new wife. The spicy, interested aroma they gave off was more than enough for Levi to know that Hange found her more than just pretty.

Hange barely contained a laugh, forcing a straight face to speak. "Question, and this one’s serious," they said, their eyes twinkling. Levi’s tired expression only seemed to amuse them more. "If you two… ever get down to business, would you consider a threesom—"

"DON’T HIT ME!" Hange quickly added as Levi’s hand moved with lightning speed to smack the back of their head.

"Shut the fuck up. You’ll wake her up," Levi muttered, but Hange was already caressing the back of their head where Levi had smacked them. "And over my dead, cold body. You heard me?"

"Ugh," Hange groaned, rubbing the back of their head with their left hand. "You purebreds… are so territorial. You’re missing half the fun."

Levi remained with his arms crossed, eyes narrowing. "And you’ll be missing your only remaining eye if you ever bring that shit into my room again."

When she woke up again, the clock on the nightstand read 11 am.

(I'm sorry if this chapter was shitty, I'd been so stressed with work lately but I didn't want to let you all down another week in a row T-T)

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out.

Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hannieslovebot @flxrartsstuff @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @searriously @blackdxggr @storiesofsung @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-angel @galactict3a @lemonsupernova @hyuckwon-my-husbands @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr @mandaax @sugacor3 @r0ckst4rjk @vegetasgirl2799 @catiwinky @pinksaiyans @sparklykeylime Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[heart-eyed-love]

Spaghetti and Sacrifices

Summary | An obscene amount of candles has you thinking something that Eddie hadn’t intended, at least there’s some spaghetti to make up for that

Contains | Fem!Reader, Friends-to-Lovers, Cursing, Mentions of not being a virgin (lies! but dw, it’ll come up again at some point), Eddie has hopeless romanticness running through his blood and doesn’t even know

Pairings | BestFriend!Eddie x BestFriend!Reader

Word Count | 1.2k

“You know, I made enough for multiple servings not because I wanted you to eat it all.” Wayne eyes Eddie as he slides his coat on getting ready to leave for the night and head out to work.

“Why make so much if you’re gonna judge me for eating it?” Eddie turns his head back to look at his uncle.

“I’ve been seeing Y/n’s mom around less and less, I made enough so maybe you’d invite your friend over and get a good meal in her.” Eddie looks up from his plate of spaghetti and out the window to your trailer, right across from theirs. To no one's surprise the night was getting darker and your mom’s car is still gone. The only light on in your home was through the window that led to your bedroom.

Wayne right. They’ve been seeing less and less of your mom, it’s not like either one of them really went out of their way to seek her out. But she’s your mom, so the casualties were basically required at this point in the friendship.

They wouldn’t be all the surprised if you had seen her just as much as they had lately. You had informed him a few weeks back that she had gotten a new boyfriend and that she seemed to prefer to spend her nights with him now.

“Okay, well I’ll see you in the morning.”Wayne says as slips out the door, out into the night.

Eddie looks down to his plate, he could definitely go for seconds… but he’ll make sure to go get your first. He pulled another plate out of the cabinet before shoveling another slice of the garlic toast into his mouth before heading to the door.

He looked back to the living room area where he would hopefully be sitting with you for the rest of his dinner, but something was missing.

He headed over to the closet in the hallway, grabbing some candles and walking back into the living room. Wayne had a surprising amount of candles and Eddie was gonna use that to his advantage. He set them up on the coffee table in front of the couch.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he felt the candles were needed, he just did. A nice spaghetti dinner, in front of the Tv, with his best friend… yeah, sure. Why not?

Maybe he went a little overboard with the amount of candles but the ambiance was nice so that's all that really matters.

He threw on his jacket and Wayne’s slippers and slipped out the door. Making his way over to your window, tapping on it lightly.

You hear a small tapping at your window, pulling you from the book you were reading. Setting it down and walking to your window you already knew who was gonna be on the other side. You pull it up anyways, with a smirk on your face.

“My mother’s not here, Edward. You can use the front door.” You tease and he’s narrowing his eyes at the use of his full name.

“Yeah, well where’s the fun in that?”

“What is it you need?”

“Wayne made some dinner, spaghetti. Thought you might want some…” He says, finger twirling the ring round the other.

“Is there any garlic bread?” You question, as if it’s a deal breaker.

“You know there is.”

“Okay, I’ll be out in minute.” You say as you turn to slide your shoes on and then turn back in an attempt to shut your window.

“Wait, just climb out the window.” He says, stopping you from shutting it.

“Why?” You laugh in disbelief.

“Your mom’s never home, you never even have to try and be rebellious, just come out the window, it’ll be like you're sneaking out to come meet me.” He smirks, raising his brows.

He held your hand to help you down, you took it begrudgingly, rolling your eyes as you say, “As if I’d ever sneak out to meet you.”

“You know, sometimes you’re a little pain in my ass.” He says once you’re fully out of your window, he takes the window and shuts it.

“Well, good. I’m glad I was able to fulfill my true role in this friendship.” You smile brightly and he’s flicking your forehead. You shove his back as you both walk over to his trailer, he barely budges.

Hopping up the steps of his porch he opens the door for you, shoving your back into the trailer in return. But once you’re in you freeze at the sight.

Candles. So many candles.

The room is relaxing and the smell of Wayne’s meal makes you feel at home. Eddie walks past you and into the kitchen, “You want me to warm the spaghetti up for you?” He asks as he retrieves the plate he had gotten out for you.

You ignore his question, turning to look at him in the kitchen with an arched brow, “Is Wayne here?”

“Uh no…” He scratches the back of his neck, “no, it’s just us….”

“So it’s finally happening, huh?” You ask, causing Eddie to furrow his brows in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re finally giving in to all the rumors people spread?” He’s still confused as you go on, “I’m not a virgin, you know?” And he freezes as you say that statement, the smirk on your face feels like you’re taunting him. He’s VERY confused now. Cause that’s like… that’s huge. He is also trying to connect why that’s important right now, and he’s also trying to understand why the thought is making him feel slightly sick.

But quickly you add, “So, I’m not so sure how well this virgin sacrifice will work for you.” He finally rolls his eyes at your teasing and walks back into the living room, shoving your plate over to you.

“You’re so annoying you know that?”

Only causing you to smile more, “So I’ve been told.”

Eddie watches you as you walk into the kitchen, filling your plate with the spaghetti, throwing a piece of the garlic toast on as well. But as he watched you he couldn’t help but think back to what you had said.

That was a joke too, right? The whole you not being a virgin thing was also part of the joke, right?

You walk back into the living room, shoving a whole forkful of the spaghetti into your mouth as you sit down next to him. “So what’s with the copious amount of candles?” You ask, mouth still full of spaghetti. Sometimes he wonders if you guys are too comfortable with each other… it’s not like it bothers him anymore, your little quirks, he just wonders if he’s getting too deep into this.

“Wayne likes them.”

“Yeah, right. I’m sure he does, but maybe not all at the same time.” You giggle.

“It smelt weird in here.” He lied.

“It’s two men living in a small trailer, it always smells weird.” Not even looking at him as you say it, like it’s just common knowledge. Obviously, you’re teasing, but sometimes Eddie has a hard time catching on.

“No, it- Wait, does it?” He asks a tad bit more frantically than he would’ve liked to come off. Causing you to let out a loud laugh.

“Jeez, it’s just too easy with you.”

He’s rolling his eyes, hiding the small smile fighting to make its way on his face by retrieving the remote and turning on the Tv, “Just shut up and eat your spaghetti.”

@evileyeandthecattywhumps

[inuiiwonderland]

Tragedy

The king sends troops after a mysterious women. After her lover was brutally killed by the king, the women had to flee before her and her newborn son were next.

Words: 1.1k

-

It was dark and cold. The weather was horrible as rain poured down from the sky at a rapid pace. You were cold and scared as you continued running. Not even daring to stop in fear that they will manage to catch up to you.

You looked down at the small bundle in your arms. You made sure you had the softest and warmest of blankets before leaving that hell hole. You peek into the small little breathing hole, and for a second you feel at peace until you hear the screaming of horses and men which quickly brings you back to reality.

You quickly picked up the pace as you looked behind you to see them in the distance. Torches and swords in hand as they approached rather quickly.

You gasped and quickly looked away. Tears clouding your vision as you try to get away as far as possible. You ran through the woods and clutched the bundle in your arms tighter. You felt relief wash over you as you saw the river up ahead.

“Make sure she doesn’t get away! The king wants both her and that bastard of a child alive!”

Your heart drops as you hear those faint words.

You quickly pulled out the basket that you had on you. Your heart was racing against your chest as you gently laid down the small thing in the basket. The small thing coos as you gently caressed his face.

“Shhh…there my son. You’ll be safer somewhere out there than here. I’ll pray that the river takes you somewhere safe, in a place where you’ll be safe and strong. I love you” And with a heavy heart, you push the basket onto the river and watch as the currents take the basket away.

The sound of the horses and men grew louder as you got up. You looked at the river one last time before whispering.

“Be safe…”

“Silver”

-

Tonight was the biggest storm that Briar Valley has ever seen in its entire history. The wind was strong, rain was pouring down like a hell storm, it was the biggest storm anyone has ever seen.

The young prince looked out his bedroom window with a frown. It’s been a while since his guardian Lilia has left the palace doors, and with the horrible weather conditions happening outside, the young prince can’t help but worry.

“My dear prince, what happens to trouble you?” One of the palace butlers asks as he watches the prince look out the window.

“Do you think Lilia is okay?” The butler was surprised by this question. But quickly responded back.

“Why of course he’s okay. Lilia is a former war general who led all of our troops to victory.” This still didn’t seem to please the young prince. He continued to look out the window and the butler knew what he said didn’t seem to calm the prince as he saw and heard a loud thunder from outside.

-

Rain was pouring hard as Lilia made his way back to the palace. It’s been hours since he left malleus alone in the palace and he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for making him wait for that long.

He flinches as he hears a loud roar of thunder come from the path to the palace.

“He’s definitely not…happy” Lilia prepares himself for the dozens of questions the young prince will throw at him once he steps foot inside the palace.

As he continues his journey back to the palace. Lilia hears small wails coming from deep into the woods. He ignores it at first, but the weeps grow louder as the rain pours and the wind blows. He stops his horse immediately and stays silent for a moment.

A cry

He hears the small cries coming from the woods. He was skeptical at first, maybe a trick from some nearby bandits but something in his gut tells him to not ignore it.

Go

“Huh?”

Follow the cries

Of the unfortunate

And after a long pause. Lilia goes to the direction of where the cries were coming from. He followed the cries like his life depended on it. The voice in his head getting louder and louder the more closer he was getting to where the cries were coming from.

Go

Don’t leave him

The cries

Death

And as if he can finally breathe, Lilia finally made it to where the loud cries came from. There, floating near a log was a basket. Lilia hops off his horse as he slowly walks towards the small basket. Cries grow louder by the second and once he was knee deep into the water he opens the basket to see a small bundle of blankets.

But what catches his attention the most is what’s hidden inside the blankets.

There lay a small human child. Crying his poor eyes out as he sneezes.

Lilia stands there alarmed. Eyes wide as the child slowly opens its eyes. Teary violet iris staring back at him.

“What in the seven's name…” For the first time in centuries Lilia was speechless. He was hesitant. He didn’t know what to do.

I mean it’s a child for crying out loud! A human child nonetheless all alone in a basket floating in the river!

He stares at the child before closing the basket. He turns around and leaves the water. He gets on his horse and gets ready to leave. But something stops him before he can leave. Something tells him that he can’t.

He stares at the sky. His heart beating fast against his chest.

Don’t go

Don’t leave me

A loud cry interrupts his thoughts. He looks towards the direction of the basket and sees the waters growing a bit strong. The basket then soon starts floating away and before Lilia could think straight he jumps off his horse and to the river.

He begins to chase after the basket. Heart beating even faster as he sees the basket grow farther and farther away. With a loud grunt he goes deeper and deeper into the water and reaches his hand out to grab ahold of the tiny basket.

Don’t let go

Don’t let go father

And when he thinks he can’t make it on time. Basket out of reach. By some miracle he manages to grab ahold of the damn thing. He gasps and quickly brings it towards his chest.

It wasn’t long until he was finally able to get out of the water, thanks to his horse who pulled him out.

Lilia still holds the basket in a tight grip.

“C’mon, malleus is probably worried sick” He gets on his horse. Basket close against his chest as the tiny child inside sleeps soundly.

Be safe silver

-

Ermmm….its been a while☺️ it’s ass at the moment because I haven’t written anything in MONTHS!

[allthesemechanismsbutnocoping]

There was a tense silence between the two. Von Raum knew that Marius was holding on to that anger towards him. He didn't blame him, but that didn't mean he had to like it. He didn't understand why he was trying to speak to him. Maybe the silence was uncomfortable. Maybe the silence was too reminiscent on how the last few weeks have been for the man. Weeks? Longer? Von Raum didn't know.

"I.. didn't know mine very well," Von Raum said softly, taking his shirt off and tossing it in the sink, aggressively trying to get those blood stains out of the shirt. "I knew I wanted them to be mine and... Well, they didn't like me. Tried telling them their hair was pretty. Ivy made me tell them I wanted to eat their hair. I don't know if you ever told a Midgardian you wanted to eat their hair before, but they give you the most disgusted look. Would've thought I asked for a shag," he said with a laugh, though it was hollow. "I escaped a couple of times. One time, when they got sick and weren't in, I got some food rations off of a neighbor of theirs and made them soup. Left it on their step and went back... Don't know if they ever ate it or not."

Such simpler days. He'd do anything to go back to those times. Sure, he and Lyf weren't together, but at least Lyf was safer. Happier, maybe. "Ah. We need to get you put together still." He disappeared into the bedroom and took one of Brian's shirts and slipped it on before coming back to where he left Marius. "Alright. How much of your body can you move? How much can you feel?"

https://www.tumblr.com/doctorbarontsct/765335072373178368/when-marius-sees-the-flash-of-rainbow-hair-out-of?source=share

"Someone took away your Jonny's harmonics privileges. They can't figure out where I keep finding mine, so they can't take away mine," Jonny said as he played on.

"Jonny," Brian said finally. "Cut the shit before I tell Raphaella to take your brain out and put you in a jar until it grows back. Again. Marius is very obviously not well, and you're picking a fight with him. Please, love." He sighed, looking over Marius once again. "Okay. So, it's been a few weeks since you could last move your arm. This slug is likely what's preventing you from being able to move it, and we don't want to do anything until we have somewhere to safely put it."

Tim hummed. "Jar could work. I'm just saying we should think about putting in the jar."

"You just want to give it to Raphaella so she stops pouting her science projects dying," Jonny grumbled.

Tim just smiled. "Is that so wrong?"

[ @allthesemechanismsbutnocoping ]

"That's about it, I think?" Marius said. He willfully doesn't think about the amount of food he's had over the last few weeks. Or sleep. Or the toe thing, or the mines, or the fact that his other arm is still not working, or the number of things he didn't even mention on Tumblr because he thought this universe's Lyf would have a heart attack.

It's not like that lightning strike did any permanent damage anyway.

"But yeah, somewhere to put it safely, and we're sure taking it out won't make things worse," he added, because that seemed like a very important point he'd made, and he didn't want anyone forgetting that one.

[hwangskitten]

random 4am smut thought with jeongin

Minors Do Not Interact

reader is a bit older, typical shy innocent virgin reader, jeongin is an obsessed pervert 🥰 a sprinkle of noncon but it's alright because it's jeongin and he's cute

under normal circumstances, it was impossible for you to consider anything intimate with a younger guy. but the alcohol in your system was overtaking your logic.

jeongin was possibly the sweetest person you knew and you trusted him enough to let him drag you anywhere. you didn't question him when he pulled you away from the group of people you were with and drove you to his place. "you looked like you're gonna pass out. if you're gonna sleep, then sleep here where I know you'll be safe." his bedroom. it was safe. his bed felt comfortable. when did you change your clothes? you didn't know. too drunk to realize anything.

soon the two of you were cuddled up in bed together. the shirt he made you wear was riding up your legs. your messy hair, your bare face, the way you were clinging on his arm. it was enticing.

he knew you wouldn't think of him as anything more than a friend just because you were older by a few months, but that didn't stop his thoughts about you. you were blind to how perfectly he fit what you wanted in a guy, just because of his age. every single trait you liked in people, he had it. respectful, romantic, considerate, loyal, experienced.

he doubted you even knew how to kiss. after that one time you were dared to kiss minho in a game, he said you kiss like a virgin. maybe you were one. even if you weren't, you were inexperienced. he was sure of it because of how you reacted to his touch. to you, all of his advances were innocent.

but tonight, you were in his bed. drunk. deep asleep.

having you close wasn't enough. he needed more.

you would never know about it.

you would never know how he almost came only after putting your hand on his hard cock. how he held back his moans when he started moving your hand to jerk himself off. how he was shaking when you scooted closer and he could feel your soft breathing on his neck. how he came all over your hand. how he took a picture of it to keep in a hidden folder on his phone filled with other pictures of you. how he craved to kiss you but settled for gentle pecks to not wake you up.

it was wrong obviously. he knew that but you were never gonna find out.

or maybe just not yet.

[only-lonely-star]

can you do dallas winston x soc reader where she invites him over to her house and it’s super pink and girly and he wants to look at every little thing! love you’re work btw!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ Pretty in Pink . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Warnings - Pure fluff. Established relationship between a soc!fem!reader and Dallas Winston.

Summary - If it were up to him, he would never leave your room ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

Author’s Note - Thank you so much for this request!!! I’m truly so happy to hear you love my writings, it means the world to me 🫶🏼. I sort of took ‘house’ and turned it into bedroom, so I hope this is still okay skhfhsjjs 😭. I had a lot of fun with this one, I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do!! 🩷🩷

Word Count - 1.1k.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Applying a thin layer of tinted gloss, you puckered up and smiled upon the reflection in your vanity mirror. The white, wooden piece blended with the rest of your room perfectly as it leaned against the floral wallpaper adorned in patterns of pink peonies. Pink - you were certain there wasn’t a color as perfect as the pastel hue that flooded your room. As a finishing touch, you doused the sides of your neck in a fancy perfume, one that cost a fortune. The bottle was, of course, a baby-pink heart with a white ribbon tied around it. You felt ready to take on the world.

Leaned against the windowsill of your bedroom, your eyes longed to catch a glimpse of that rusted, old Thunderbird that Dallas typically took you around the city in. You could hear it a mile away, the noisy vroom of the vehicle, and the screeching shrill of its breaks. The stars cast a beam of light against the pavement to your driveway, ensuring he’d find his way there eventually.

Although you loved him to death, this boy had never spent a second in this house past your doorway. Tonight was different - he wasn’t dropping off flowers, knocking on your door to shower you in drunken kisses, or even luring you into his car to sneak out for the night. He was staying over. In your bed. Staying in your girly bedroom. Just at first glance, it was clear Dallas was no softie. He didn’t care for frilly pink bows or dainty jewelry, he was as masculine as they came. A hint of nervousness formed at the pit of your stomach as your brain worked double-time to map out every negative outcome possible. Maybe he wouldn’t like it, it would be too overwhelming - the possibilities were endless.

Just as these thoughts began to overwhelm you, the repetitive ring of your doorbell brought you back to reality. He was here. You raced for the front door without a second thought, leaping down the staircase, taking two steps at a time. Once you had reached the door, you flung it open with excitement, only to wrap your arms around his figure. He wore a cocky grin, a classic expression he often used in moments like these. You felt the jerk of his body as he stifled a laugh. “I saw you yesterday,” he commented wittily, slowly running a hand up and down your back.

You stood on the tip of your toes, planting a kiss on his cheek. Without waiting a second longer, you snatched the boy inside with a simple yank to his arm. “Come on, get out the cold, Dal,” you teased.

Dallas glanced down at his boots, giving them a quick stomp or two before taking a look around. “So this is your little mansion, huh?”

“Mansion,” you scoffed in reply. “This ain’t even the best part! Come on upstairs with me, I’ll show you my room.” You ran a hand up and down his sleeve as a signal for him to follow your lead.

Dallas let out a low whistle, slowly making his way up the staircase. His eyes darted in every which way, gliding his hand the entire way up the wooden railing of the staircase. “Shoot - I’d sure like to live in someplace like this.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re living in my room tonight,” you responded cheekily, biting back a smile. As you reached the final step, you guided him down the hallway which led to a number of bedrooms, each decorated in their own unique way. Dallas poked his head in each one, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion as to which was yours. “Dal, it’s this one.”

He whipped his head around, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Continuing to follow your lead, he carefully took in the new environment. Pink, flowers, ribbons, lace, hearts, dolls - it all hit Dallas like a tidal wave. His dull eyes were now filled with excitement at the sight of it all. “Jesus Christ,” he scoffed, “l think you might like the color pink.”

Letting out a burst of laughter, you ushered him inside. “Who would’ve thought, right?”

Dallas’s attention was immediately drawn to the white jewelry box with flowers painted along the side. He curiously stepped closer. He traced his finger along the woodwork, whistling lowly, “This a dollhouse or something? Looks like it would be for a-.” His attention diverted quickly, just before you could correct him. Dallas smiled in fascination as he caught sight of a small ballerina placed on a shelf near the closet doors. He inspected its fine details, running his fingers along the figure.

Before his interest was sparked again, you decided some commentary was needed. “That’s actually a music box, if you look at the bottom there’s a little knob.”

Dallas had his fingers twisting relentlessly around the knob before you even finished that sentence. He set it back down on the shelf, watching the little dancer spin around as the steel comb inside produced a delightful sound. “No fuckin’ way…” his voice trailed off in awe.

“You like that?” you chuckled, standing beside him to observe the figurine. It felt strangely comforting seeing Dallas with such youthful wonder in his eyes.

“That’s so cool, man, I want one,” he shifted his gaze from the music box back to you with a genuine smile.

“I have to show you this doll, I’ve had it since I was…five? I don’t know,” you spoke excitedly, dragging him towards your bed.

Kneeling beside the bed frame, you reached underneath it to retrieve a box. This box was worn out, each crease and wrinkle in the cardboard, a sign that it was well-loved over the years. Out came a porcelain doll, dressed in a white, ruffled dress with a lacey bodice that was colored in a soft shade of pink. Her hair was blonde and curled to perfection, a small bow added to accessorize her faux hair. Dallas stood over you, his thumbs in his jeans pockets. “She’s gorgeous, I bet that thing is worth more than my life.”

You gently stroked the back of her hair, admiring the delicate fabric of the miniature dress. “Hell- who knows?” You began to pack the doll up once more, hearing the shuffling of Dallas’s feet along your carpet. You paid no mind to this at first, assuming he was checking out more of your belongings. It was only then, that you stood up to find Dallas cozied up in your bed underneath a heap of fluffy pink and white blankets, holding a teddy bear against his arm. He had thrown on a satin sleeping mask adorned with small red hearts. Dallas had truly made himself at home, despite standing out more than any unique decoration in your room. He had a field day in your dollhouse of a room.

“How do I look?” he asked playfully, adding a hint of sass to his voice.

In adoration of a softer side you’d never seen before, you pounced onto him as you let out a giggle, wrapping yourselves in the plush blanket. “You look so pretty in pink.”

THANK YOU ALL FOR READING!! I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS ONE!!! 💋

- Sophia 🫶🏼

[robo-writing]

hiii it’s anon who requested the chronic pain reader x Logan, I love that btw!

Recently, like for the past two weeks, random red spots have been appearing on my skin, and I probably got whooping cough again lmao- The doctors don’t know what the illness is, but they think it’s an autoimmune disease of some kind.

My skin as a result looks… At the very best lumpy. And I really hate how it’s making me look 🥲

so can I request another comfort request, with an afab!reader x Simon Riley with reader who’s going through at least something similar? If not that’s fine, I’m sorry for bombarding you 😭

You have trouble with your self-confidence at the best of times, but looking at yourself in the mirror right now makes you want to cry, truly. The large welts make your skin feel lumpy, irritated, and even under the layers of clothes all you can focus on is the fact they’re still on your body, taunting you.

You know it’s temporary, but every time you think about the deformities you feel the urge to curl into yourself and hide away. You’ve even stopped taking his calls, much to Simon’s annoyance, and after a week he’s had enough, knocking at your door urgently.

“Open up darling, lemme see you!”

“I’m sick!” Your muffled voice calls from your bedroom.

“I know where the spare key is love,” he replies, the tell-tale jingle making your ears perk up. “I’m coming inside.”

“No,” you weakly groan from beneath your covers. “I don’t want you to see me Si.”

Your pleas fall on deaf ears, hearing the lock click into place as his heavy footsteps enter. You can see his shadow coming closer, and the best you can do is bundle yourself in your sheets.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it, can you please leave?”

He shakes his head, moving towards you. “No can do. Just wanna make sure you’re alright.”

Slowly, he pulls off the cover and if you were in better health maybe you could’ve resisted better. You turn your head away from him, not wanting to see the disgust on his face at your blemished skin.

“Oh wow…” he says, and the surprise in his voice makes you shrink away even further.

“I told you it was bad,” you sniffle, tugging the sheets back over you. He hesitates for a bit, trying to find the right words.

“Is it chickenpox?”

You know he’s serious, but you can’t help but give a half-hearted chuckle at his words. “No, the doctors don’t know what it is yet.”

“And is it contagious?”

“No—“

“Then move over.”

You look over your shoulder, confusion written in your face. “I’m sorry?”

He doesn’t repeat himself. He takes his shoes off, throws them into a neat pile by the bed, then worms his way under the blanket, wrapping his arms around your torso much to your surprise.

“You’ve been hiding from me all week, I’m making up for lost time,” he mumbles, pulling you even closer to his chest. “Rest up; I’ll buy you some ointment when you wake up.”

Mouth agape, it takes you a moment to catch up, and when you do you realize two things:

1. You’re not getting out of this bed anytime soon.

2. Simon is the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.

[deleteddewewted]

Super Market Romance

Modern! Titus x Gn! Reader

S: Titus is a retired veteran who suffers from mental and physical disabilities. He’s stricken with social anxiety and depression to the point he only leaves home to shop for groceries. On one of this trips he meets you. This begins a series of encounters that create an unlikely relationship between the two of you.

W: PTSD episodes, Depression, Anxiety Disorders, Reader is a broke Artist, Titus works as an Analyst for a company, Ableist comments (From Titus and to Titus)

He huddled up in his room, his alarm blaring for what felt like hours even after he woke up. He couldn't sleep and he refused to clock into work unless the nausea he felt dissipated. He could feel tears well into the corner of his eyes, threatening to spill over if he so much as inhaled deeply. He got up anyway, his right leg aching as he did. He grabbed his cane and made his way to his bathroom, hobbling slowly to his sink and flipping the light switch. Light washed over him. He looked pale and sick. He was sick but he didn't want to acknowledge it. He made quick business of washing his face and brushing his teeth. His leg began to act up and he had to give himself a moment to compose himself before leaving his tiny bathroom.

He made a quick breakfast, eggs with sausage and beans. He was going to grab his instant coffee from his pantry when he noticed the container was empty. He cursed under his breath and began shoveling his food down his throat before making his way to his bedroom. He clocked into work and began getting dressed. He had no meetings or urgent assignments so he left his apartment to buy his favorite coffee and other things he needed. It would be quick, he already knew where everything was at so there was no reason to take long.

He walked out of his apartment, heading to his car in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt that accentuated his body. He threw his car door open, throwing his cane into the back seat before he sat into the drivers seat and buckled himself in. He gave himself a moment, the feeling of pedals under his feet and the steering wheel in his hands brought back memories that he would rather forget. He turned the ignition on and made his way to the supermarket closest to his home.

When he arrived, he made sure to park as far away from the entrance as possible. He had a tag that would let him park in the handicapped spots but he refused to use it. Part of him knew he was just sabotaging himself but the other part of him, the one that was too prideful, wouldn't let him have it "easy". He made his way to the front of the store and grabbed a shopping cart. He started with the produce as he needed more tomatoes for a recipe he was thinking of making. He made his way down the aisles, doing his best to ignore other shoppers as he didn't want to make conversation or eye contact.

He always felt alien outside of his home. He knows his features arent pleasant and he does his best to hide as much as he can considering he tends to tower over the average person. His hairline scar, the scar on his cheek, on his nose, the one on his mouth. He knows he isn't winning any beauty contests soon and it irritated him just how unnatural he looked. He wished there was a cure all for his issues. Maybe then he wouldn't feel like shit in the mornings or when he went to bed.

As he made it down the coffee isle, he realized that he wasn't the only one looking for something in the isle. There, one the instant coffee section, was you. You were looking in the bottom shelf to see what cheap coffee would be good enough to drink but also fit in your budget. You were willing and happy to sacrifice taste if it meant it had enough caffeine to get you through the next month.

Titus watched as you looked at the limited options, hoping you’d move soon but that didn’t happen. He sucked it up and walked over hoping you’d move soon were to engrossed in coffee to pay him attention. He looked for his usual go too, a medium roast that wasn’t too heavy on his stomach. He grabbed it, thinking about getting another bag so he wouldn’t have to repeat this trip anytime soon. As he did, you jutted up, pumping into his arm with your head.

“Ouch, sorry, sorry.” You apologized. You got excited when you noticed one of the items had a sale and grabbed it without looking if someone else was near you.

“It’s alright.” He murmured. You rubbed your head and looked up at the man before going wide eyed.

He knew that look already. You were scared and uncomfortable. Everyone looked at him that way. His scars were ugly and they made him look deformed. He averted his gaze from your own and grabbed his items ready to leave but you spoke.

“Cool scars, man.” It wasn’t in exclamation like some people would say it, nor was it in the fake awe some people would do. It was a comment. Just a comment. Like the scars weren’t ugly and contrasted on his skin. Titus blinked to himself before turning around again and starring at you but you were gone. That was his first time ever meeting you.

The next time he saw you was a few weeks after. You were rummaging in your pockets for something all while debating if you should grab ice cream. He only wanted to grab some of the frozen meals he usually got when he was too lazy to cook so he walked past you to grab it. You had noticed him but didn’t acknowledge him. You thought you had made him uncomfortable with the comment you made last time about his appearance. You scanned the shelf seeing if anything looked good but nothing interested you. You turned, heading to the front of the store when Titus noticed you walking away. He wasn’t someone to do impulsive decisions nor was he the type to try and socialize, but your oddly friendly demeanor had interested him.

He grabbed two of the ice cream he liked and hastily walked over to the self checkout counter. He scanned his items quickly, eyeing if you had left the parking lot. Once the receipt printed he all but ran over to you. You were waiting at a bus stop with one of your earbuds out in. You couldn’t hear much of anything but you were surprised when the sun was completely blocked out by the hulking figure in front of you. A small oce cream container as presented to you by the man you had briefly seen in the store.

“I… I wanted…. I got this for you.” Titus panted. His leg was killing him and the muscles felt like they were on fire. He tried to make his discomfort obvious but he’s sure he’s wincing.

You accepted the container and thank him. It was bizarre but a welcoming surprise to say the least. Free ice cream was always a good thing.

“Thank you, stranger.” You watched as he left back towards the parking lot noticing a slight limp present in his walk.

You wondered why he had bothered to gift you the container. It wasn’t like you’ve been particularly welcoming or nice to him.

As you contemplated the reasons why he would do this, your bus arrives and you get on without glancing back to look for the stranger. You made yourself comfortable in the back seat and internally cheered at the fact you had a sweet treat to indulge in after work. Maybe you should be nicer to more strangers.

[winchesterwild78]

An Unexpected Friendship pt 9

Master List

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Reader’s daughter, Jensen’s children

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: FLUF

A/N: This is a short story written in collaboration with @cheekygirl2309.

This chapter is so full of fluff. It’s a roller coaster, but a good one. Some big things happen in this chapter. 🥰 A few time jumps.

No disrespect to Jensen or his family. This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life. Written and edited fast-please overlook any errors. 

Minors DNI 18+

Jensen left a few weeks later to go back to work. The kids and I were excited to follow him as soon as school got out for the summer. When Jensen arrived in Canada he signed the paperwork for the house and he had been living there, waiting for us. 

I was packing the kids and I up for our trip. Jensen suggested I pack enough clothes for a week, and we would get some more clothes when we got there just to keep and use while we were there. 

As we boarded the plane, the kids and I were so excited. In a few short hours we would be back with Jensen. Halfway through the flight the kids fell asleep. A middle aged woman sitting near us smiled softly, “Your children are so beautiful, and so well behaved.” I smiled at her, “Thank you. Their dad and I are incredibly lucky to have all of them.” 

She nodded and smiled. I sent Jensen a text.

Me: Hey baby, we have a few hours left, the kids are fast asleep.

Jensen: I can’t wait. Clif and I are going to meet you guys at the airport. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms. 

Me: Me either. I can’t wait to see the house either. Maybe break in that new bed. 😘

Jensen: You better believe it, all night long baby. 😀

Me: I’ll hold you to it. I love you, see you soon.

Jensen: I love you too, and I can’t wait. 

I set my phone back down and looked over at our babies. They were all sleeping peacefully and my heart warmed at the sight. These four beautiful, sleeping children were now a huge part of my life, and I couldn’t see a future without them in it. 

When we finally landed and were headed towards the gate my anxiety started to creep up. I was anxious about getting the kids off the plane and to the baggage claim where Jensen was supposed to meet us. I knew this airport was large, and I didn’t want to lose them.

“Okay guys, when we get off this plane you four hold hands and JJ, you hold on to me, okay?” They all nodded. Before we could get off the plane a stewardess approached me. “Ma’am, are you Y/N Y/L/N?” “Yes, I am. Is there a problem?” “Oh no, we’ve been asked to escort you and your children off the plane to prevent any issues with fans. Mr. Ackles called the airline and told them there were pictures of you and the children on social media with your travel information. We just want to make sure you are all safe.” “Thank you, I really appreciate it.” 

“Okay, please follow us and we will get you guys out and through the airport and to Mr. Ackles.” We followed them and hopped on a transportation cart that zipped through the airport. I’d noticed a few people had their phones out, so I told the kids to keep their heads down. I didn’t want their pictures taken unless Jensen was okay with it. 

We pulled up to a private room and we were ushered in. Inside I saw Jensen and Clif standing there. I leaped into Jensen’s arms. “Jensen! I’m so sorry baby. I didn’t know anyone was taking pictures of the kids.” He held me tight, “Hey, it’s okay baby. It happens, you are all safe and here where you belong.” 

The kids ran to Jensen when I let him go, each one hugged him tightly telling him all about the last few weeks. “Hey guys, let’s get our stuff and go home.” I smiled at Jensen when he said that. “Yes, home.” I said.

We grabbed our bags and Clif drove us to the new house. It was even more beautiful in person. The kids had their own rooms, even though Jazzy and Arrow decided to share a room, and of course Jensen and I had a beautiful suite for our room. The bathroom was just as big as the bedroom. It had a double shower, and a huge double soaker tub. “Lots of room for both of us in that shower and tub, darlin’.” Jensen said with a smirk on his face. “We might have to test them out soon, baby.” 

We got the kids in bed, and Jensen and I sat in front of the fireplace, he had a glass of whiskey and I had a glass of wine. Everything was perfect. “Jensen, the house really is beautiful. Thank you.” “Oh baby, you’re welcome. This is our home. I want you to make any changes you want to make it feel more like ours. I nodded. 

As we sat sipping our drinks my mind kept wandering back to our conversation about marriage. “What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” “Honestly?” Jensen nodded, yes. “Us, our future, getting married.” 

Jensen sat his drink down, “What about it? Are you having second thoughts?” “Oh absolutely not. I want that more than anything. I was just thinking about what life would be like being Mrs. Jensen Ackles.” I blushed a little. 

“Well sweetheart, I can tell you it would look pretty much like this, the only difference is you’d be recognized more in public.” “Yeah, I just want to make sure the kids are safe when we go out.” “They will be, you will be, I promise.” 

Jensen stood, pulled me up and into his arms. “I’m so glad you’re here baby. I’ve missed you, your lips, your body.” He started kissing down my body, “Jensen, let’s take this upstairs.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the stairs, “You don’t have to tell me twice.” I giggled as I ran with him. 

We made it to the bedroom, Jensen closed and locked the door, and we made up for lost time, and Jensen was true to his word. We broke in the bed, all night long. 

*Time Jump December*

Jensen had just gotten home from a convention. I was supposed to go with him, but I had gotten sick and couldn’t go. I was completely bummed. Jensen and I had been dating for almost a year and there were pictures of us online with speculation we were dating. Jensen and I hadn’t confirmed anything yet, but he was going to confirm it at this convention since it was the last one of the season. 

“Jens, I’m so sorry I got sick and couldn’t go with you. I know you were excited to share our relationship with your fans.” I sniffled and coughed. “Hey, it’s okay. You can’t help you’re sick. We can always make a post online if you want to.” “Once I’m better we can if you want to.” “I do, Y/N. I can’t wait to share you with everyone. I’m so proud you’re mine and Jazzy is mine.” He placed a soft kiss on my forehead, “Now you lay back down and get some rest. I’ve got the kiddos.” I nodded and snuggled back down in bed. 

A few days later I was feeling better. I was thankful Jensen was home and was able to take care of the kids while I recovered. I jumped in the shower and went downstairs to find four very excited children and an even more excited adult. 

“What are you guys so excited for?” “Mommy, Daddy Jensen is going to take us to the Austin Trail of Lights tonight.” “Oh that sounds like so much fun, do y’all have room for one more?” I chuckled. 

Jensen stepped forward and put his arms around me, turning to the kids and said, “I don’t know. What do you guys think? Do you think we should let Mom come along?” The kids looked at each other like they were considering the question. I feigned hurt and laughed. “Yes! We want mommy to go with us.” 

“Whew, I was a little worried.” I said. Jensen pulled me close, laughing as he kissed me. “Eww, stop it.” The kids said. Jensen and I laughed. 

As night started to settle over the Austin sky, Jensen, the kids and I got ready to head out to see the lights. I had never taken Jazzy, and I hadn’t been since before she was born. The hum of excitement filled the car as Jensen drove with his hand in mine. 

I glanced over my shoulder and looked at the kids’ faces as we got closer to the trail. I loved seeing Christmas through their eyes. It always reminded me of what the season was truly about, magic, love and service to others.

Jensen helped me get the kids out and we walked to the gate. We held the kids’ hands in between us. As we approached the gate, Jensen pulled out his phone and showed the lady at the front the tickets. She smiled, looked over at us and nodded. “Have a great time, Mr. Ackles. You and your family. Merry Christmas.” Jensen tipped his head at her, “Thank you, Merry Christmas to you too.” 

The six of us started to walk the trail. Jazzy was completely blown away. Her and the other three were holding hands, giggling and walking just in front of Jensen and I. I took out my phone and started taking pictures of the kids, and a few of Jensen and I. 

We were halfway through the trail when something caught the eye of the kids. It was a beautiful display of a gingerbread house with gingerbread men at the front “Mommy look!” The kids called as I turned towards them. 

“Can we take a picture, mommy? Please?” I nodded and walked up with them to the house. I was snapping pictures of them doing different poses. I was laughing at their antics and turned to get Jensen’s attention. 

When I turned I gasped. Jensen was behind me, down on one knee and a small velvet box in his hand. I turned and looked at the kids who were now holding signs that read, “Mommy, will you marry Daddy?” 

I turned back towards Jensen, completely speechless. I noticed people standing around taking videos and pictures. “Well, darlin’, what do you say? Will you marry me?” Tears fell fast from my eyes, “Yes! Yes, Jensen, I’ll marry you!” 

I leaped in his arms, kissing him and hugging him. He slid the ring on my finger, and when we looked at the kids, JJ had flipped her sign over and it read, “FINALLY!” Jensen and I laughed. 

The group of people who had gathered around us were clapping and offering congratulations. I finally took a moment to look at my ring and it was breathtaking. There was a large solitary stone in the middle, and the four colored stones around it. Each stone represented the kids’ birthstones. 

“Jensen, this is so beautiful.” “I’m glad you like it. I hope you don’t mind. I added the kids to it too.” “No Jensen, I don’t mind at all. It’s perfect.” 

When we finished the trail Jensen pulled out his phone to message Jared, Nichole and his family to let them know. He asked, finally. “So I had already told them I was going to ask you, I figured there would be people there and I didn’t want our families to find out through social media.” “That’s smart. I’m sure it’s all over social media now.” “Yeah it is.” He chuckled as he showed me his phone. 

After we got home the kids were so excited and talked non stop about Jensen and I getting married. I noticed Jazzy was a little quiet, so I pulled her to the side with Jensen to talk to her. 

“Hey Jazzy girl, are you okay? You seem sad.” “No, I’m just thinking. I can’t wait for you and daddy Jensen to get married. Are you going to be an Ackles, mommy?” “Yes baby, when I get married to Jensen my last name will change to Ackles.” “Oh, will mine?” I looked at Jensen and he looked at me, “No baby. Your last name will stay the same. Your name changes when you get married or if you get adopted.”

I saw the tears form in her eyes. “So I won’t be part of the family?” Her voice is soft and sad. Jensen pulled her into his lap, “Oh baby girl you are part of the family. Your last name doesn’t change that.” She nodded. “Daddy Jensen, what is adopted?” 

“Well, for some people it means they get a new mommy and daddy, but for you that means I would go to a judge and ask them if I can be your daddy for real. If they say yes, then you get to change your last name to Ackles.” “Daddy I want to be your baby girl for real.” 

Jensen pulled her into a tight hug and looked up at me. “Sweetie, you are my baby girl, for real and forever.” “But I’m not an Ackles.” Jensen’s heart broke a little, “Do you want to be?” He asked her. “Yes! Then I can be your real baby.” “Well if it’s something you really want, we can see about it.” 

“Yay! I get to be your baby for real.” She hugged Jensen’s neck tightly and jumped down. “Bye mommy, bye daddy.” She waved as she went out of the room.

Jensen let out a deep breath. I touched his arm, “Jens, are you okay?” “Yes, I just want her to know she’s loved and I adore her.” “She knows, Jensen. She really does.” “What do you think about me possibly adopting her?” “Honestly that would be amazing, but it’s up to you.” “Darlin’ I’d love to, but it’s not just my decision. Do you think you could arrange a meeting for me and Josh’s parents?” 

“Yes I can call them, but why do you want to speak to them?” “I think it’s only right to ask their permission for me to adopt their granddaughter, since Josh isn’t around for me to ask.” I hugged Jensen, “That sounds perfect.” I kissed him. 

The next morning I called Josh’s mom and asked if Jensen and I could come over. She was more than willing to have Jensen Ackles in her house, she was a fan. 

When we arrived, she giggled when she answered the door and I introduced them. “Jensen, these are Josh’s parents, Margaret and Bill Johnson.” They shook hands and we were invited in. 

“So, Jensen, Y/N told us you wanted to speak to us. Oh and congratulations on the engagement. We are so happy for you two.” Josh’s mom said.

“Yes ma’am, and thank you. I love her and Jazzy very much. So I wanted to speak to you two about Jazmyne. She’s an amazing little girl and I love her like she’s my own. She fits perfectly in our family. When I marry Y/N, she will officially/legally be an Ackles, Jazzy will not. So, I’ve come to you both today to ask your permission to officially adopt her. You have my word she will always be your granddaughter, you two are always welcome in our home, and she will know what an amazing father Josh was. She will just be an Ackles, legally.”

Margaret was wiping tears away, and Bill was hard to read. Then he spoke, “Son, she’s our only granddaughter. Our only connection on this Earth to Joshua. If we give you our blessing, I need your word that she will still be in our lives. We wouldn’t survive losing her too.” 

“Yes, sir. I understand completely. You have my word, I wouldn’t dream of taking her away from you two. She needs you two in her life. You two are her direct connection to Josh, and that is something that can’t ever be replaced. I assure you, I’m not trying to replace anyone in her life. I’m just trying to help her feel like she belongs with all of us too.” 

“Jensen, honey, do you mind giving myself and Bill a few days to think about it?” “Oh absolutely, please take all the time you need. Here’s my number if you two have any more questions or any concerns come up.” Margaret took Jensen’s number and nodded. “Thank you, Jensen. We really do appreciate you coming and asking us. That shows amazing character.” 

Jensen and I stood to leave, Bill pulled me into a hug and whispered in my ear, “You make him take care of you and that little girl. I’m glad you found him. He seems like good people.” I smiled and nodded, “He is, and he loves Jazzy so much.” 

Margaret hugged me after she hugged Jensen. Bill extended his hand to Jensen and shook his hand, “Jensen, son, thank you again. We will be in touch soon.” Jensen nodded and the two of us walked out to the car hand in hand.

Climbing in the car, there was a silence that fell between us. “I think that went well, Jensen. I really do.” Jensen nodded, “Yeah. I just hope they say yes. I don’t want Jazzy to feel like we don’t want her to be part of the family.” “I think they will, they just need to talk about it. They just want to make sure you are true to your word. I know you are, but they are a little worried.” “I get it completely. I would be too. I just wish there was a way I could convince them.” 

I took his hand in mine, “I know baby, just be patient.” He nodded and we drove home. When we got home Jensen went ahead and contacted his attorney to find out what he’d need to adopt Jazzy. “No, I’m not ready to move forward yet. I just wanted to know what the process would be. Yeah, okay. Thanks buddy. Yeah, I’ll call you back when I’m ready.” 

“So it seems like it's a pretty easy process. Since Josh is gone I don’t have to wait the standard length of time when two parents are involved. I just need your permission as her surviving parent.” “Well you know you have it, Jensen.” “I know, baby. I know.” 

A few days later Jensen’s phone rang. He showed me the caller ID. It was Josh’s parents. We walked into our bedroom to take the phone call. “Hello?” Jensen answered. “Hello, Jensen, this is Bill and Margaret Johnson. How are you today?” “Oh hello, Mr and Mrs Johnson, I’m doing great, how are you two?” “Please call us Bill and Margaret, and we are great. So I’m gonna get right to it. We talked about what you asked. We definitely have some reservations about it.” 

Jensen’s face fell slightly. I touched his hand. “I understand, sir.” Jensen said softly.

“However, we talked and we know how much you love our girls. We’re going to trust your word, son. You keep us in her life and take care of her, and we are more than happy to give you our blessing.” 

Jensen sat stunned. I squeezed his hand. “Son, are you still there?” Bill asked into the phone. “Oh yes, sir. I’m sorry. Thank you both so much. You have no idea what this means to me, to Jazzy.” “I think we do, Jensen. You take care of our girls.” “I promise I will. Y/N and I would also like to invite you two to celebrate Christmas with us and the kids. You’re family now, and that means you come for holidays, birthdays and other important things. You’re also going to have three more grandchildren by proxy.” Jensen laughed. Bill and Margaret chuckled, “Well I think we can handle that, Jensen. Are you sure we won’t be intruding on Christmas?” “Absolutely not, please come.” “Sure, we will be there.”

“Great! I’ll send you all the details when we get them finalized, and Bill, Margaret, thank you both again.” “You’re welcome, Jensen.”

Jensen hung up and pulled me into his arms, spinning me around. “I need to call my lawyer. I want to get this done ASAP.” I smiled at him, he was so excited and he was making me fall more in love with him. 

He came back into the room with a smile on his face. “Our court date is next week.” “Wow! That was fast, Jensen. How did you pull that off?” “Well I went to high school with the clerk of court, she pushed us on to the calendar. We have to go by the lawyer’s office to fill out the paperwork so he can file it. We can stop by tomorrow.” 

I nodded, “That sounds amazing, now we have to tell Jazzy.” Jensen nodded and walked downstairs to where the kids were playing. 

“Jazzy, can you come here please?” Jensen asked as he walked into the room. Jazzy came over and sat down beside us. “So Jazzy, mommy and I went to talk to Grandma and Grandpa Johnson about me adopting you. I told them how much I loved you and mommy and I asked them if they would be okay with me adopting you so you can be an Ackles. They told me they were okay with it.” 

“So daddy is going to adopt me?” Jazzy asked with wide eyes. “Yes baby girl, if you want me to.” She leaped into his lap, “Yes! I get a daddy again, and a brother and sisters.” He kissed her head and she jumped down.

I chuckled, “Well, I guess that was a yes.” “Yeah I think so too.” Jensen smiled, leaned over and kissed me.

*Time Jump Day of Court*

The kids, Jensen and I walked hand in hand into the courtroom. Josh’s parents, Jared and Gen, Nichole, and Jensen’s parents were all there. I was shaking and I was so nervous. Jensen held my hand, kissing the back of it, trying to steady my nerves. 

When the judge called our case, Jensen’s attorney spoke first. Then the judge, “Is the child present in the courtroom today?” “Yes, sir, she is.” “Can she step forward?”

I took Jazzy’s hand and stood beside her in front of the judge. “Jazmyne, I��m Judge Matthews, do you understand why you’re here today? She looked at me and I encouraged her to speak.

“Yes sir. I want Daddy Jensen to be my daddy for real and you get to say if we can or not.” “That’s right. So I just have a few questions for you, if that’s okay?” Jazzy shook her head, “Yes, that’s okay.” 

The judge smiled at her, “Okay young lady. Why do you want Jensen to be your daddy?” Jazzy stood there for a minute thinking about what to say, then when she opened her mouth, the whole courtroom fell silent. “I want Jensen to be my daddy because he makes my booboos better. He gives the best, biggest hugs. When mommy got hurt he kept me safe and when I was sad he made me better. He loves me and mommy too. He’s my daddy, like my Daddy Josh.” 

The judge nodded at her and smiled. “So you want Jensen to adopt you and you become an Ackles?” “Yes!” She squealed in delight.

The judge talked to me and Jensen for a few minutes. He asked if there was anyone present who wanted to make a statement on the adoption and Bill raised his hand, my breath hitched and a lump formed in my throat.

“Your honor, my name is William Johnson. Jazmyne is my granddaughter. Her father was my son Joshua. I came here today in support of this adoption. It saddens me that my son was never able to be the father that Jazmyne deserves, but I know with all my heart he sent Jensen to her and Y/N. This man loves this child like she was his own, so this adoption is just a formality at this point. I implore you to allow Mr. Ackles to adopt our little Jazzy.” 

The judge nodded, thanked everyone and said there would be a brief recess so he could come to a decision. 

About 30 minutes later we were being called back into the courtroom. When the judge was seated he asked for Jazzy, myself, Jensen and the other kids to step forward. 

“So making a decision like this isn’t one I take lightly. I look at all the evidence, talk to everyone I need to and above all I take into consideration how the child feels about it. Jazmyne, you, your mom and Jensen step forward slightly, please.”

The three of us moved forward. 

“After carefully weighing all the evidence I’ve come to the decision that from this day forward, Jazmyne Marie Johnson, will now be legally known as Jazmyne Marie Ackles. This is my order, entered this 13th day of December. Congratulations, Jazmyne. You are now an Ackles. 

The courtroom erupted in applause and Jazzy leaped in Jesen’s arms. Her arms pulled tightly behind his neck, she placed a soft kiss on his cheek and said, “You’re my daddy now, please don’t leave me.” He kissed her softly on the head, “I’m not going anywhere sweetheart, and neither are you, Jazmyne Ackles.” 

Tags are open, if you want to be added or removed, let me know.  

Tags: 

@nescaveckwriter @kr804573 

@k-slla @jackles010378 

@jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx 

@roseblue373 @cheynovak 

@jassackles  @chriszgirl92

@suckitands33 @arcannaa 

@n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78 

@smoothdogsgirl @hobby27 

@manicjk @stoneyggirl2 

@deans-spinster-witch @snowayumi 

@shadowqueen1318 @shanimallina87

@muhahaha303 @fitxgrld

@nancymcl @baby19sthings

@cheekygirl2309 @oceean

@kindollss @foxyjwls007

@lmg14 @cevansbaby-dove

@spxideyver @reignsboy19

@deans-baby-momma @deansimpalababy

@ladykitana90 @quietgirll75 

@superrey @kamisobsessed

@obliviousap @ninii-winchester

@mischiefnevermanaged89-blog @whimsyfinny

@bobbdylan @star-yawnznn

@reignsboy19 @monkey-d-hoshizora98

@depressionbarbie2023 @livingdeadblondequeen

@mandee7 @barnes70stark

[darksigns-exe]

35. you know where to find me - jolly karlsson x readder

warnings: handjobs (m receiving), oral sex (m receiving), swearing, a little bit of angst

word count: 1.3k

note: for @baddestomens 🩷

masterlist | (not so) secret prompt fics masterlist | taglist sign-up

You’ve known Jolly for ages. 

Seeing him this defeated actually broke your heart a little. You know how much hope he had placed into this fledgling relationship. Sure, you can’t imagine that dating someone with a schedule as packed as his is easy, but that doesn’t mean that he deserves to be shot down like that. 

He’d shown you the messages when he’d shown up at your door late at night. She hadn’t even managed to tell him in person that this couldn’t work no matter how hard we try – her words. 

Being the ever faithful friend you are, you had offered him the pull-out sofa in your living room for as long as he wanted it. You’d prepared everything for him, after you had ushered him into the bathroom, insisting that a shower would make him feel at least a little bit better. 

By the time he re-emerged from the bathroom, you had put one of your pillows and your comfiest duvet out for him. The crease is still present in his brow, but he looks a little less broken. 

You wrap him into a tight hug, not allowing any discussions. 

“Get some sleep. You know where to find me if you need me.” you tell him, trying not to sound as if you pity him too much. 

He mumbles a quiet thank you, before you leave him alone for the night. He knows your place well enough to not feel like a stranger, he’ll be okay. 

You can’t tell how late it is when the door to your bedroom opens with a creak. Jolly pushes into your room, quietly closing the door behind him. 

“Do you mind if I sleep here?” 

You scoot over, without giving him a reply. Jolly doesn’t make a move forward until you pat the now empty side of the bed.

He finds a comfortable spot quite quickly, only shifting around for a few moments. You can barely make out the features of his face in the dim light, but the frown on his face is still so very obvious.

“I don’t want to feel alone tonight.” he says quietly. 

In all the years you have known him, you’ve never seen him like this. 

You reach out, placing your hand against his cheek. Jolly practically sinks into your touch. Deep down, you know that you shouldn’t do this, you shouldn’t even be thinking about this when he’s still hurting this much. 

You feel a hand curling around your waist. 

“Can I do something to help?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady. 

You can’t deny that Jolly is attractive, he’s charming and caring and really everything you’re looking for. And maybe that had been part of the reason why you had never tried to move this into a different direction. He gets fawned over by so many people that little old you can’t be that impressive.

You’re his friend. 

Friends don’t touch each other like this, though. 

Jolly’s hand dips under your shirt. 

Your thoughts are a constant loop of we shouldn't we shouldn’t we shouldn’t.  

His hand flexes on your waist, “We shouldn’t” he says quietly. 

“I know.”  

His hand slowly moves upwards, as if he’s waiting for you to tell him to stop. But you can’t, and you know that you won’t ask him to stop. 

You force yourself to sit up eventually. For a moment, you think that he looks a little disappointed that you’re breaking away from him so quickly. 

“Will you let me do something for you?” you ask, trying to hide the shakiness of your voice, behind a brave face. 

“I – yes. Sure.” he sounds just as nervous as you feel. 

“On your back.” you say then, already moving yourself into position, “This is – it’s not crossing any lines. It’s just —”

“Just something between friends.” 

You swallow down the stinging. Without you needing to say anything about it, Jolly seems to know what you want from him. He quickly slips out of his sweats and underwear. You feel your insides heat when you let your eyes wander across his body. You’ve seen him without a shirt plenty of times. Seeing him entirely bare now makes your head spin. 

His eyes stay fixed on you when you trail your fingers up his thighs. You feel his skin prickle beneath your fingers, hairs standing upright in the wake of your touch. 

You finally build up the courage to wrap your hand around his cock. 

Jolly draws in a sharp breath, and you can’t help but smile a little. 

His skin is warm under your palm. With a little spit, you soon find a comfortable rhythm. You keep your movements slow, trying to draw things out just a little bit. It’s selfish, really, but watching his breath quicken with every pass of your hand over the head of his cock is just too delicious. His staggered breathing quickly turns into moans. Jolly rubs a hand across his face, while the other grips into the duvet next to him. 

“Fuck, your hand feels so good.” he groans. 

You drag your thumb across the tip, smearing the precum that has leaked from his across his skin. His hips buck up against your hand so desperately. You almost want to give in and ask him if he needs more, but having this man at your mercy is just too good of a sight. 

You decide to keep one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, while the other works across his length in slow, steady movements. From the sounds he makes, it must be just enough to keep him on the edge, but not enough for him to finish. And that’s exactly where you intend to keep him for the moment. 

His sighs and groans fill your head with fuzz. You briefly consider slipping a hand between your thighs, but ultimately decide that this moment is just about him. 

“Getting close?” you ask after a while. 

You’re happy to keep touching him like this, but you also don’t want to turn a good thing bad. 

“Just a little more. I’m so close.” 

He sounds as if he’s barely keeping himself together at this point. If he wants more, you’ll give him more. You lean down, dragging the flat of your tongue across his tip. 

In response, Jolly draws in a shaky gasp. 

You had hoped that he’d react like that. You repeat the motion, until you’ve built up the courage to take him between your lips. It doesn’t take a lot of this for him to fall over the edge. 

Jolly spills across your tongue. The groans that fall from his lips are interrupted by curses in his native tongue. You can feel his thighs flex around you as he struggles against the instinct to push his hips upwards. 

You’re just as breathless when you pull away from him. 

His head is tipped back, his neck exposed so beautifully. 

You untangle yourself from him, returning to your original position next to him. Jolly stares at the ceiling for a moment longer, before he finally looks at you. 

“Thank you, dear. Fuck that was – that was so good.” 

His chest heaves, as he comes down from his high. You don’t think that he’s ever been more beautiful. 

“Always happy to help out.” you offer. 

The wording feels so clumsy, but you suddenly don’t know how to move on from this situation. In the corner of your vision, you can just see Jolly struggling back into his underwear. Once he’s done, he flips onto his side, patting the spot in front of him. 

“Come here, will you?” he asks softly. 

You can’t possibly say no to him. 

As soon as you’re within reach, he wraps an arm around your middle, pulling you even closer against him. 

“We’ll talk about this in the morning. You might have to give me a little while to get over this, but – I don’t think that this has to be a one time thing. If you want that.” 

His hand is so warm and comfortable on your belly, it eases the rabbit quick beat of your heart at least a little. 

“Try to get some sleep. We have all the time in the world.”

taglist: @deathblacksmoke @circle-with-me @sitkowski @ladyveronikawrites @baddestomens

@malice-ov-mercy @chels3a-smile @ferduttini @somebodyels3 @itsafullmoon

@shilohrosechicken @poisongirl616 @mysticdoodlez @agravemisstake @th4t-em0-k1d

@thisbicc @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @mrsnoahsebastian @blackveilomens @sorrowsofsilence

@fadingangelwisp @lma1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @thisisntablogspost @tintadecirco

@rumoured-whispers @cheyyyyr @mathfairchild1 @thewrstinme @Follow-me-down-to-wonderland

[softpascalito]

I To Dig a Grave I Chapter 6 I

Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life.

But he doesn't stay a stranger.

Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 25k+ Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, Explicit Content, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Chose not to use Archive Warnings, Tags to be added

AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist // Playlist

notes: hello! it's been a second but i promise tdag is still my favorite child so this is continuing slowly but surely (i'm currently just distracted by pedro pascal as slutty gladiator).

this fic will deal with heavy topics. please note that it doesn't use archive warnings and tags will be added as we go in order to avoid spoilers. each chapter will have detailed warnings in the end notes on ao3.

Chapter 6 – The Ceremony Part 1

‘I didn't exactly miss it or want to live there again- I just wondered where it had gone.’

— Alice Munro, Dear Life

What the fuck does he think he’s doing?

If there is one person in Jackson who is least equipped to handle a grieving person who’s just lost someone to suicide, it’s him. Joel is sure of that. He should just tell you that he can’t do this, hand you over to Tommy or Maria or anyone else who doesn’t mess up whatever or whoever they touch.

It would be better for you, to have someone who actually knows how to work through grief. Not someone who sneaks out of bed before dawn to get a glass of whiskey and sit in their dark living room to ponder over things years and years past. The way he currently is.

But Joel is also sure that he can’t let you go. He can’t recall how or why but he does understand that you have found a way to get under his skin, one no one else has quite figured out, carved a path that only you may tread, that causes something to tug at his heart every time he sees you curled up in his bed or smells the soap that sits on his bathroom shelf. Somewhere along the road, he has started to care.

Not that anything good ever happens to the people he cares about.

A small groan leaves his throat as he leans back into the cushions, his free hand reaching over to produce a small notebook from below the couch table. He stares down at it for a few moments, weighing it in his hand. Then, he downs his whiskey in one go, sets the glass down onto the table and begins flipping through the small pages, seemingly endless notes, many of them jotted down rather hurriedly, a few written with much more care.

A thud upstairs makes his head jerk up. He freezes, listening intently. And then, he hears the unmistakable sound of someone running over the wooden floor upstairs. He’s up in an instant, cursing under his breath as he moves through the dimly lit room, using his foot to nudge a box aside that’s still sitting in the hallway, blocking his path towards the sound of bare feet thundering down the stairs.

***

For a split moment, you think it’s morning. The warmth beside you is gone. Maybe Joel has gotten another early start, doing whatever he does in the mornings while he lets you sleep.

And then, while you’re still floating in the comfortable state between dreaming and reality, you think you hear a door close somewhere downstairs.

Your body moves before your brain has a chance to catch up. Your legs, still tangled in the sheets, get caught in them and send you flying off the bed and onto the hard floor with a thud. It doesn’t slow you down. You force your trembling legs to push your body back onto your feet and rush through the bedroom door, taking the stairs three steps at a time. You have half a mind that you should shout, alert someone to what is happening, but your throat feels like it’s closed up.

Someone needs to stop him. To keep him from going out into the woods, to some hidden cabin. He always has the revolver on him. At that thought, you jump down the last few steps.

For the second time, your run towards the front door is interrupted and you collide with something solid just as you reach the corner that turns toward the front door. Again, it sends you stumbling and you prepare yourself for another hard fall. But it never comes. Instead, two strong arms catch you and Joel’s face above you finally comes into focus.

“You—” Again, your throat fails you. You simply press yourself into Joel’s chest, seemingly the only place that will swallow your sobs these days.

“Hey, it’s okay. Calm down, I’m right here,” Joel coos above you, his chest vibrating as he hums and brings one hand up to the back of your head, stroking your still slightly damp hair.

It takes him a solid five minutes to get you over onto the couch and calm you enough for him to let go for a moment. “I’ll be right here, hold on. Give me one second.”

He steps back into the hallway, shuffling something around. And as your panic recedes, the tide sinking, you glance around. A single glass sits on the coffee table in front of you, holding a few leftover drops of what you’re quite sure is whiskey. Beside it is a small notebook, the pages already slightly rippled.

You suddenly realize you’re not the only one in the old house who seems to have trouble sleeping.

Eventually, Joel returns with a woolen blanket that he drapes over your form, nodding to himself. “There we are.”

He doesn’t sit down, instead stepping over to the window and casting a glance outside. As if there is anything worth seeing on a street that never changes, one that hasn’t had cars passing on it in over twenty years.

“I’m sorry, I just—I panicked,” you whisper, keeping your head just low enough that you can still see Joel’s outline against the dim light of the street lamp outside. His shoulders seem to hang a tad lower than usual, still broad but not as intimidating as they once seemed, especially with him dressed in his usual pajamas consisting of soft plaid pants and a worn shirt.

“Don’t apologize. You’re bound to have some triggers after everything. It’s good if we figure them out as early as possible.” He pauses for a moment, turning around to study your face. “Was it being by yourself?”

You gently shake your head. “No. Not really. It was more—I thought I heard a door close. Like you were leaving.”

You can see the exact moment he understands what you are implying and his face falls slightly. “Oh, darlin’, you know I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t leave you. You know that, right?” 

The only response you can manage is a shaky nod.

Joel sighs as he sits down next to you, rubbing his thumb over the small bald spot in his beard. To both your surprise, it’s you who starts the conversation back up.

“What about you?”

A frown appears between Joel's brows at the question and he turns towards you, studying your face as if the answers to whatever questions he has are written there. “What about me?”

“You were up too, weren’t you?” you ask quietly, turning your body towards him and leaning into the couch, the plush cushions and the blanket comfortable against your skin.

“Yeah but I was just—I wanted to get some things done for tomorrow—”

“Joel,” you stop him, raising your brow a tiny bit. It’s not meant to be hurtful, you’re sure of that. But if he believes you will swallow such a blatantly obvious lie, he may not be as good at this as you thought he was. “It’s not fair if you’re not honest with me.”

You can see his facade crumble as his expression falters and he nods quietly. “Yeah, I reckon you’re right about that.” Still, he seems to consider his words very carefully. “I don’t sleep well, sometimes. So I figured I may as well do some work. Didn’t wanna wake you with my tossing ‘n turning.”

Your heart aches at how casually he mentions this. It makes sense that he’d have nightmares. And you’re sure you barely know half of what they’re about. Joel cares so much when it comes to you that it genuinely baffles you how easily he brushes it off when he is the one suffering.

And then, a very quiet voice reminds you that this may be, like so many things, your fault. That you are so messed up that even big bad Joel Miller begins to struggle if he keeps you around for too long.

“Was it about—” You pause for a moment, trying to find the right words. It suddenly appears to you how difficult that is and you silently vow to thank Joel for having found them all throughout the last few days. “Was it about what we were talking about earlier?”

You have to be a horrible person. Because you know that deep inside, you want him to say yes. To assure you that this is about the things from his past that still haunt him and not about Lane—or about you. You don’t want to be the cause for his sleepless nights.

He doesn’t respond, but you have a feeling he doesn’t need to. It’s written all over him. The way he holds his body, the eyes that won’t meet yours. You don’t know what to do. You want to help. Maybe the same way he wants to help you. Cooking dinner, making coffee, getting an extra blanket. Because this is something he can’t fix. Only mend.

7 months earlier

“There is absolutely no way I’m going in there,” you proclaimed, dipping your toe into the water below you. “That is freezing!”

“It’s better once you’re in there. We can’t have hiked all this way for nothing,” a voice mused next to you. “Besides, it was your idea to come up here.”

“Well, I haven’t been before and I sure as hell wouldn’t have if I'd known it would involve freezing to death,” you groaned, lifting your foot back to the safety of solid ground below you and taking a few steps along the water of Flat Creek Lake.

It was crystal clear, allowing you to see the small rocks littering the bottom of the lake and the little fish zooming back and forth between them. It was still enough that you could see the reflection of the sky, blue with a few clouds scattered in between. The first warm day of the year.

You took in the scenery for a few more moments, letting your gaze wander further over the water and the trees on the other side of the lake and the mountains behind them, before turning back towards Lane—only to find that she’d thrown her clothes over a nearby trunk and was sporting a striped bathing suit. A small whistle escaped your throat.

“Haven’t seen that one before,” you commented off-handedly, causing a faint blush to appear on her cheeks. “That’s ‘cause it’s not mine.”

You raised a brow as you watched her wade into the water, sending small rippling waves out into the lake. “Wait, you’re not saying—”

A tiny smirk had appeared on Lane’s face. “Cat was nice enough to lend it to me when I told her we were gonna hike up here.”

“I see how it is.” You grinned, pushing your shirt over your head and throwing it next to Lane's pile of clothes. Unlike her, you opted for some of your more covered up underwear. Swimsuits weren’t exactly a clothing priority and you hadn’t found yourself in need of any until now. “I’m not enough for you anymore,” you said dramatically, throwing a hand towards your temple. “How will I ever get over you leaving me?”

“Oh shut up. Besides, if you are allowed to have your boyfriend over for dinner every other month, I am definitely good to borrow a bathing suit.”

“How many times do I have to tell you?” You groaned exasperatedly. “Joel is not my boyfriend. He’s just–” You raised a hand and waved it through the air, trying to find the right word. It wouldn’t come.

“I don’t know. We’re just friends.” You weakly kicked at a small rock below you before stepping into the water for the second time that day, getting your feet used to the temperature of the mountain lake.

“Even Tommy says Joel doesn’t have friends,” Lane pointed out with a lopsided grin.

You shrugged. You yourself weren’t sure what to call your relationship with Joel, and even though you’d tried not to think on it too hard, the question had forced itself to the forefront of your mind more than once. And with every passing month, it seemed to become more persistent and difficult to push away.

“Are you gonna get over here or think about that old man all day?”

Lane paid for her comment (and, you silently vowed, for daring to call Joel old) by receiving a big splash of cold water aimed directly at her. She squealed, jumping the few steps over to you and pulling you further into the lake. It didn’t seem quite as cold as you splashed around in it together, only coming back out when you saw that Lane’s lips began to match the shade of her hair and pointed out that her freezing to death would really ruin the early summer day.

You headed over to one of the log cabins at the foot of the small lake, a place so far from civilization that it had barely been touched since the outbreak. It had taken you close to six hours to make the hike up the dirt road into the mountains. But, upon seeing the view in front of you, you both had agreed that getting up early had been worth it.

“Who told you about this again?” Lane asked, her mouth slightly open as she stared around the cabin that seemed almost completely intact. Bits and pieces were missing but the furniture was still properly arranged, mugs and plates were lined up neatly on a shelf over the sink and even a few items of clothing were still dangling from some hooks near the door.

“Joel did,” you admitted quietly. She just wiggled her eyebrows at you before heading further into the cabin, peeking into the small bathroom and the adjacent bedroom.

“Hey, there’s some towels here,” she called over her shoulder and came back a few moments later holding some cream-colored towels that had probably once been white. Even in the more remote areas around Jackson, finding housing that was this intact was rather rare.

“Maybe we should take a look around,” you offered, your mind already wandering to which treasures could be hidden in the cabin. Anything from practical items like medicine to more recreational ones—possibly a nice bottle of whiskey, stored away just for you to find. As if she could read your thoughts, Lane pursed her lips a little, one hand smoothing over the towels in her hands.

You stared at her. “What?”

“I don’t think we should take anything;” she said softly. “At least not back to Jackson.”

You felt a small frown appear on your forehead as you mulled her words over in your mind. “What do you mean? It’s not like anyone’ll come back for this.” You gently tapped the wood of the cupboard next to you. “Judging by the amount of dust these have not been touched in at least a decade.”

She shrugged, stepping back towards the front door. “I just mean, if it’s been very peaceful here for so long… We shouldn’t be the ones to make it less so.”

You stared after Lane as she stepped outside, watching her descend down the few wooden steps that led up to the cabin and the way the sun hit her blue hair, the ends still dripping slightly.

It took you a moment to gather your thoughts and follow her back to the lake, carefully closing the cabin door behind you. You both had secured a towel each from the cabin and were drying off when Lane caught you off-guard for the second time that day.

“Do you remember any of it? Before, I mean?”

You sighed softly. The question that had become as recurring as ‘and what do you do for a living?’ had once been. In hindsight, you were surprised you hadn’t discussed it earlier–at least not in detail.

“I do. Not much, not anything–I don’t remember how the world was. Just how it seemed to me as a kid,” you answered truthfully.

You could see Lane nod out of the corner of your eye as she leaned back and wrung out her hair.

“I miss it sometimes.” A few seconds of quiet passed. “It’s silly, really. You can’t miss something you don’t remember.”

“I think you can,” you said softly, turning your head towards her. She had paused in her movements and was gazing out onto the lake, though her eyes seemed much more distant than usual.

Your own stayed trained on her as she spoke, her tone a tad lower. “Do you ever think about leaving?”

If it had been anyone else with you, you probably would’ve lied, claimed that of course your heart never wavered, that you knew you were exactly where you needed to be. But this was Lane. Lane was safe.

“Sometimes,” you answered, your voice equally quiet even though you were sure there was no one around to listen except the small fish and possibly a fawn hiding in the undergrowth. “But then, I suppose it wouldn’t make much of a difference. We’d suffer through the day anywhere. But here, we at least have something to come home to when the suffering is done.”

It wasn’t exactly as positive as you may have wanted to sound. You’d always felt a tad protective over Lane, with her being a few years younger and less experienced. You knew she looked up to you and you wanted to set a good example, more than anything.

But that included being honest.

“When I came—When I headed to Wyoming, I was looking for something better than a QZ or Fedra,” you said softly. “I think I could’ve ended up in a lot of places much worse than Jackson.”

“But Jackson isn’t what you were looking for.”

You shook your head. “No. I suppose it’s not. But it’s what I found.”

You gave a bittersweet smile and she returned it, even though hers still seemed slightly broader than yours. It was an odd moment that passed between you, almost an unspoken agreement not to dwell on the topic too long. To not speak of the loss.

“What about you?” you asked, shifting the conversation away from yourself. “Do you remember anything from before?”

Lane gave a small snort at that. “Yeah, now that you ask, I remember pooping my pants.” She shook her head weakly, leaning back and staring out at the water again. “I was a baby.” A sigh escaped her lips as her body faltered slightly, her shoulders dropping a tiny bit. “Sometimes I wonder what my life would’ve been like if I’d been born ten years earlier. If it had been—I don’t know. Better.”

“Well, for the record, I’m glad you ended up in Jackson at the same time I did,” you said softly, nudging her shoulder.

She nodded and smiled, returning the small gesture. It doesn’t dawn on you until much later that she talks about her life in past tense.

“Okay, a tiny bit to the left,” Lane waved her hand as if she could position you like a puppet. “My left or yours?”

“Yours—Yeah, like that.”

A few seconds passed where you showed the lens your best smile and saw Lane fumbling with the buttons before the noise of the camera shutter announced that she’d found a frame she was content with. The giggle that followed, however, took you by surprise. “What?” You asked, looking past the lens and trying to catch a glimpse of her face. “What's so funny?!”

“Oh, I just thought about whether or not to slip this into the slideshow at the town hall next week. Maybe that would finally get Joel to ask you out.”

“You, Eleanor, are a pervert,” you commented drily, letting yourself fall back onto your comfortable towel and reaching for your book, trying to ignore the small wave of heat that had suddenly spread through your body at the thought of Joel seeing you like this.

“You know, I do think you two would fit together pretty well,” Lane hummed with her eyes closed half an hour later when both of you had stretched out on your towels and were bathing in the sun, waiting for the warmth to dry you. Content to ignore the world around you for just another hour.

You put your book down for a moment, squinting as you glanced over at her. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you but nothing is happening between Joel and me. Not ever.”

***

His knock on the bathroom door is tentative, two gentle raps that travel through the wood towards you.

“Are you almost done?”

You stare at your reflection. A woman in black stares back. You know she is about to attend a funeral, the dark outfit and the sadness hiding behind concealer that doesn’t quite match her skin tone giving away what awaits her just as much as what’s behind.

You long to wish her something, to give her hope. But you don’t have any left to give.

You wish you could stay in the comforting bathroom forever, retire the black clothes, bundle them up and hide them at the very back of the cupboard below the sink, next to long expired cleaning supplies and a broken hairdryer. Close the door on all of them and run a hot bath to curl up in, one that never runs cold and that you never have to leave.

“Are you alright in there?”

Joel’s tone has turned slightly worried, no doubt owing to the fact that you are too busy keeping yourself from having a panic attack to respond properly.

“I’m done,” you call out, your voice trembling a little but at least it’s loud enough for him to hear. You can practically see him nod outside the door, even before you’ve moved over to it and turned the knob. Facing Joel Miller is the easy part. Facing the rest of the world is the hard one.

His gaze flies over you very briefly, taking in the clothes he retrieved from your house for the occasion, but you barely notice. What you do notice is that Joel has shaved while you were getting ready, his beard a little more neat than usual, even if still streaked with the small hints of gray that make your eyes linger. What makes your breath hitch in your throat however are his clothes.

He’s dressed accordingly, in a black suit that’s been patched up in a few places and is half a size too small on his broad frame. You’re alarmingly aware you have never seen him in a suit before—you’re certain you'd remember if you did if this is what he looks like.

It doesn’t quite fit the Joel who’s been following you around the house like an anxious guard dog, the man who wears plaid shirts and jeans so much that you remember being surprised when you first found out he does not, in fact, sleep in them. He always looks comfortable, in his worn shirts and slightly stained clothes, like he’s been wearing them for years, like he’ll never change. Like he’ll never leave. A constant that nothing could take from you, like the peaks of the mountains you can see from Jackson on a clear day.

But now he looks—there is no other way to put it—sexy. The suit, tight in all the right places, momentarily manages to take your mind off the why and you very briefly allow yourself to just stare at him.

“Hey, you’re not gonna pass out on me, are you?” Joel muses, bringing a hand to your shoulder to steady you. He looks worried, the crease on his forehead that never seems to leave it these days a little deeper than usual. Of course he’d think that your behavior can be attributed to your distress. Which it can, technically, just a completely different kind of distress.

“Sorry, no, I'm fine,” you reassure him, pushing your way further into the bedroom and taking a deep breath. He doesn’t move quite in time, causing your side to brush over his and you can actually feel the smooth fabric of his blazer against the skin of your hand where they meet. You catch a whiff of his aftershave—or whatever the hell makes him smell so good—just as you step past him into the bedroom and towards the door, completely missing that the slight scowl on Joel's face has changed ever so slightly.

“Come on, Texas. I don’t wanna be late,” you mumble, trying to lighten the mood—or at least distract from the fact that your brain is ready to head down a wildly inappropriate path. It must be the shock causing it to go haywire, or at least that is what you silently vow to believe.

Still, you’re careful to not turn around far enough to actually see him, keeping him safely out of sight.

Because you really must be the worst person in the world to stand here, about to attend you best friends funeral, and leer over some fucking man.

Just that it's Lane's funeral and a small voice in the back of your head that sounds oddly like her pipes up to say that he does look good and that, if nothing else, this may be the one good thing to come out of today. Joel Miller in a fucking suit.

notes: thank you for reading! i have a few more chapters done but opening this fic is somehow both my therapy and mentally very taxing so bear with me please <3

[iloveelvisss]

I would love to see more yandere elvis, maybe him blowing up at the mafia for getting to "close" even if it's not really anything besides politeness. (All the requests are yandere)

Or, (This is seasonal) elvis and reader going over a christmas list for reader.

Maybe even elvis tells the reader he wants kids(Vegas era)

Elvis tells the reader what to wear for a party.

Reader cleaning graceland and elvis gets breeding urges (smut)

Reader getting concerned about elvis in the late years of the 70s, and helps him get off the drugs, why? Because he does what she wants (yandere behavior)

Anyway, some ideas for possible one shots. You can ignore this ask if you want, but I wanted to give you a few ideas :)

Okayyyy so eventually I’m gonna try and do all of these… maybe? But I really liked the one about him getting upset at the Memphis Mafia for ‘looking’ at his girl, so I’m gonna go with that one for this. Thank you soooo much, and please feel free to request more😙😙!! Also, thank you, because these are such good ideas!

Lookin’ (Elvis oneshot)

Correlates to Lovestruck and goes along with that storyline (which will hopefully be getting a second part sometime soon).

Pairing: yandere!Elvis x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sometime after everything is settled and Elvis has married Y/N, he feels as though a member of the Memphis Mafia is getting too close to his ‘angel’. And he won’t stand for that.

Warnings/Triggers: yandere fic, so expect delusional, obsessive, compulsive, manipulative, crazed, and possessive behavior. Elvis gets very angry and possessive. References to drug use. References to forced marriage, breeding, and the colonel.

In hindsight you should’ve known better. It had only been a month since you had to marry Elvis, and he was still very much in the honeymoon mindset. He wanted you pregnant— another way to make his claim on you a known thing to anyone else.

You somehow got to walk to the bar without him going with you. Most likely because he had a clear view of you from where he stood talking to Sammy Davis Jr., who had come to watch his show. You poured yourself a water— just to be safe, and then you went on your way back to him at a leisurely pace. You stopped to admire the painting he had hanging on the suite’s wall. It was very pretty. A large landscape of gorgeous purple flowers that were blowing freely in the wind. Such a cruel difference to your current life.

That’s when it happened. Sonny came up beside you, holding a beer. “Nice, ain’t it? Me and Red bought it for ‘im before you came along.”

You smiled politely, making sure to not make eye contact. You nod and take a drink of your water, which was now halfway empty. “S’ very pretty. Bet it makes him miss simple life sometimes,” you sigh, knowing that you’re really referencing yourself. You missed simple life. Nowadays you wished you would’ve said no to the job offer and stayed in California with the trust fund kids.

Sonny noticed your drink and offered to refill it, to which you politely declined. But it was too late. His hand touched yours and Elvis saw.

You made eye contact with him from across the room and you saw his jaw clench. His eyes darkened only slightly, and nobody other than you saw it. But the whole room stilled and watched with bated breath as he dropped his conversation with Sammy and stormed over to you. The crowd parted for him like the Red Sea, and he looked as if he was a predator stalking his prey with his eyes narrowed and his nose flared. His shoulders held back to make them come off as more broad. He was downright angry— scary angry.

You knew you were in trouble, and you held your breath as he made it to you. He grabbed your arm and dragged you into the bedroom portion of the suite. He locked you in it, and you could only imagine the shit he was giving Sonny.

“That’s my wife! My goddamn wife! Ya stay away from ‘er, or I’ll break yer goddamn neck!”

And then the door reopens and he comes storming in, his anger pouring off of him in waves. You take a large step back and then you fall backwards onto the small chair by the window. He leans down into your face, grabbing your jaw. “Ya like humiliatin’ me, angel? Huh? Ya like makin’ it look like my own wife don’t want me at my party?”

You fight back the tears that are trying desperately to fall. You shake your head as best as you can with his grip. “Please… Elvis, I didn’t mean anything by it. I- I was just talking to him.”

He stares into your eyes with a heated gaze for what feels like hours, and then he seems to remember himself, and he takes a deep breath. He loosens his grip, his eyes softening just a bit. “I don’t like it when those… those pigs talk to ya, Y/N,” his hand moves to caress your cheek and clear your tears that managed to fall, “Jus’ promise me you’ll stay by my side, yeah? Don’t let those suckers talk to ya?”

You quickly nod, just wanting him to stay happy. You shakily reach up and put your hand over his, holding it to your face. “Y- yeah, baby, I’ll only talk to you. Promise.” You say as firmly as you can manage in your slightly shaken state. He then nods, seeming convinced and content enough.

Elvis reaches down and pulls you up by the arm. He pulls you into an embrace, his fingers gently trailing through your hair. He kisses the top of your head, whispering, “Mhm, angel, s’ jus’ you and me, okay? Forever. Yer mine.”

Okay, so this is ACTUALLY shit. I’m so sorry, please forgive me😭. But I wanted to get at least one of your requests out for you. Enjoy…?

Tags: @queenstarlight (lmk if you wanna be added)

[sabrinasopposite]

don’t you want me like i want you?

clark kent x guitarist!reader

don’t you want me

like i want you baby?

sleep tonight but tonights going crazy

meet me at the…. APT.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

For some, music is a companion—a loyal shadow that lingers, a daily necessity. But for others, it’s more. It’s everything. They don’t just hear it; they see it in the shifting hues of the sky, feel it in the vibration of the earth, live it in every heartbeat. For them, music isn’t a sound; it’s a language, a lifeline, a mirror.

For y/n, it was all of that and more. It was a sanctuary, the only way to release the emotions she couldn’t quite speak aloud. Music was her escape—a getaway car racing through uncharted roads. Plug in the headphones, press play, and suddenly, the world became a little softer, a little brighter. It was like being handed a map to a place only she understood.

But sometimes, the search for new music felt like a hunt—a quest for the perfect sound that could stir her soul, rekindle a spark, or provide the soundtrack for a moment she hadn’t yet lived. For y/n, this hunt was eternal, an ache as familiar as the chords of her favorite songs.

She had arrived in Smallville just weeks ago, a town so quiet it seemed like it could have been plucked from the second verse of a Radiohead track—melancholic yet oddly serene, with beauty tucked between its stillness. It was a far cry from the electric heartbeat of New York City, where she’d spent most of her life.

Smallville felt like a genre she’d never chosen—like a punk rocker trying to write country ballads. You either adapted and found the rhythm, or you didn’t. Y/n wasn’t sure yet which way it would go.

New York had been loud, chaotic, a symphony of endless possibility. Smallville was... still. Too still. But in that stillness, y/n found space to think—a fact that scared her more than she cared to admit. Change was like hearing a song for the first time: jarring, unfamiliar. But sometimes, if you gave it a chance, the melody could surprise you.

Her first days in Smallville were spent wandering its streets, letting herself get lost, hoping to stumble upon something—a spark, a rhythm, a new favorite lyric in this quiet album of a town. High school loomed on the horizon, another challenge she wasn’t ready to face. Her only solace was her family: her parents and her older brother, Theodore.

Theodore was her opposite in some ways but her twin in one crucial aspect—music. While she craved the melancholic poetry of The Smiths and the atmospheric pull of Fleetwood Mac, Theodore was all raw energy. His heroes were The Clash and the Sex Pistols, their messy rebellion plastered all over his bedroom walls.

Their playlists were mismatched, but their shared passion for sound connected them like two strings on the same guitar.

“You listen to sad music,” Theodore teased one night as she scribbled lyrics in her worn notebook.


“And you listen to angry music,” she shot back, smirking.


“Anger gets things done. What does sadness do?”
“It makes you feel,” she replied simply, her words trailing into the hum of a record spinning in the background.

It was during one of her aimless walks through Smallville that y/n saw it—a poster taped to a lamppost, its bold letters practically leaping off the page:

“LIVE MUSIC! TALON EVERY FRIDAY NIGHT!”

Her heart skipped, the words striking a chord in her chest. She’d passed the Talon a few times—a cozy coffee shop with an unassuming exterior—but now, it gleamed with possibility.

A smile crept across her face, bright and mischievous like the neon ink on the poster. Maybe this is it, she thought. A way to feel like herself again. To stop feeling like a background instrument in her own life.

She ran her fingers over the strap of her guitar case later that night, her mind racing. She hadn’t performed since New York—a string of open mics where she poured her heart out to strangers in dark rooms. But this felt different. This felt like the start of a new setlist.

Theodore didn’t take much convincing. Over dinner, she pitched the idea “Live music at this place called the Talon. Friday night. Let’s go.”


“You mean you should go,” he replied with a smirk. “With your brooding Smiths covers.”


“And you can bring your chaotic drum solos,” she countered, grinning. “Fine. But I get to pick one song,” theodore said, his grin mirroring hers.

🖤

As the days rolled by, the night of the Talon finally awrrived. y/n had been counting down to it, her excitement mingling with nervous energy.

The Talon wasn’t just any coffee shop—it was the place to be in Smallville. By day, it was a cozy corner where locals sipped lattes and caught up on homework. By night, it transformed into a buzzing hub for the town’s younger crowd, especially students from Smallville High.

Lana Lang, a fellow student, was the mastermind behind it all. Running the Talon was more than just a job for Lana—it was her dream, a vision she’d nurtured into reality. She’d given the shop a unique vibe, blending vintage cinema posters and retro lighting with warm, earthy tones that made it feel timeless. The Talon was Lana’s way of shaping the world around her, just like music shaped y/n’s.

For y/n, tonight was about sharing her heart through her guitar. But for Clark Kent, tonight was about surviving his friends’ enthusiasm.

Clark hadn’t planned on going. Events like this weren’t his thing—too loud, too crowded, and not exactly farm-boy friendly. But Chloe and Pete had been relentless.

“Come on, Clark!” Chloe said, practically dragging him along Main Street. “You can’t spend every Friday night doing farm stuff or staring at your ceiling. Live a little!” Yeah, man,” Pete added. “The Talon’s where it’s at. Music, coffee, and a crowd that’s actually, you know, alive. It’s way better than your barn.”

Clark sighed, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. “I don’t even like these kinds of events. You guys know that.”

“That’s because you’ve never given them a chance,” Chloe said with a knowing smile. “And besides, Lana’s worked really hard to put this together. The least you can do is show up and support her.”

Clark glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. “So this is about Lana.”

“No,” Chloe replied quickly—too quickly. “It’s about live music. Supporting local talent. Being a good friend. And, okay, maybe it wouldn’t kill you to, you know, talk to her while you’re there.”

Pete laughed. “Clark Kent, master of subtlety. I bet he stands in the corner all night, sipping coffee and avoiding eye contact.”

Clark shook his head but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Fine. I’ll go. But only for a little while.” Chloe and Pete exchanged victorious looks as they stepped into the Talon.

The place was already packed, the buzz of conversation and laughter filling the air. Y/n and Theodore arrived early, her guitar slung over her shoulder and his drumsticks sticking out of his back pocket. Theodore had been grumbling about being dragged out of the house, but Y/n could see the glimmer of excitement in his eyes.

Clark, on the other hand, stuck close to Chloe and Pete, scanning the room. The warmth of the fairy lights and the smell of coffee filled the air, and despite himself, he felt a bit more at ease.

“See?” Chloe said, nudging him. “This isn’t so bad, is it?”

Clark shrugged but stayed quiet. His eyes wandered to the small stage at the far end of the shop, where musicians were setting up. He didn’t recognize anyone, but something about the electric energy in the air made him pause.

🖤

Meanwhile, Y/n was standing offstage, tuning her guitar and stealing glances at the growing crowd. Her nerves were starting to show, but Theodore gave her a reassuring nudge. “You’ve got this,” he said, tapping his drumsticks against his leg.

“Thanks,” she replied, trying to steady her breathing. This was it—the start of something new, in a place she was still trying to call home. And as the first chords echoed through the Talon, the crowd quieted, and all eyes turned to the stage.

y/n stood at the center of the small stage, her white guitar resting comfortably in her arms, as if it had always been there. Her outfit—a mix of rockstar glam and effortless charm—caught the light just enough to make her seem larger than life.

She looked like the kind of girl people might describe as a "rockstar’s girlfriend," but there was no mistaking her presence. She wasn’t anyone’s shadow; she was the main event. A free spirit with fire in her veins and a guitar that held all the words she couldn’t speak aloud.

Her style might have turned heads, but it was her eyes that truly shone under the purplish lights. They sparkled with the energy of someone who had something to say and wasn’t afraid to let the music do the talking.

The room buzzed softly with conversation as she stepped up to the mic. She leaned in, her lips curling into a playful grin. “Hi, everyone,” she began, her voice warm but laced with the sharpness of her New Yorker accent. “Hope you guys are ready for something a little... rocky tonight.” She chuckled, the sound carrying through the room like the first strum of a chord.

y/n scanned the small crowd of the Talon, her heart pounding. The faces staring back weren’t familiar, but that didn’t matter. She wasn’t performing for recognition. This was her way of speaking to the world, of sharing her stories—even if some of those stories were ones she’d only imagined.

Love, for instance. It wasn’t something she’d experienced firsthand, but it was a world she often visited in her mind. She’d written countless poems about it, pouring her thoughts into metaphors and melodies.

Tonight, she was ready to turn those words into something real, even if it was just for three minutes under the Talon’s lights. She glanced over her shoulder, locking eyes with Theodore. His drumsticks were poised in his hands, his posture relaxed but ready. She gave him a small nod, a signal to drop the bass and let the rhythm take over.

With that, Theodore struck the first note, a deep, vibrating pulse that seemed to ripple through the room. y/n felt the vibration in her chest, grounding her, reminding her why she loved this. The noise of the crowd softened as the music began to build, pulling everyone’s attention toward the siblings on stage.

y/n closed her eyes for a brief moment, feeling the weight of the guitar in her hands. Then she opened them, her fingers finding the strings instinctively. The first chord rang out clear and strong, cutting through the hum of the room like a declaration.

The song they were playing was called APT, a fun, energetic piece she had written inspired by a drinking game her friend from downtown, NYC had introduced her to.

It was a game called Apteu, and although it was just a silly tradition, it had given y/n the perfect material for a lighthearted, upbeat song. The track was full of energy and rhythm, designed to get people moving and feeling good—just the kind of vibe she wanted to set in this crowded room tonight.

She started to sing, her voice rising and falling with the melody, effortlessly weaving through the rhythm. Her eyes sparkled with passion, each word she sang carrying the weight of emotions she often kept hidden. When y/n sang, it was like she wasn’t just performing; she was living inside the song, letting every note and lyric become part of her. She embodied it, lost in the world of the music, letting it carry her to places she could only dream about.

Her voice was a perfect blend of sweetness and edge, like honey with a kick of spice.

“Don't you want me like I want you, baby?

Don’t you want me like I need you now?

Sleep tomorrow, but tonight, go crazy. All you gotta do is just meet me at the…”

Her voice echoed through the Talon, drawing the crowd into her spell.

Clark, who had been standing in the back, arms folded and quietly observing, found himself completely captivated. His eyes followed y/n as she moved, completely lost in the song, and suddenly, he realized he was too. It wasn’t just the music—it was the way she poured herself into every note, the way she made it feel like her voice was something raw and real, like it had never been rehearsed, only lived.

His friends, Chloe and Pete, were watching him, but Clark couldn’t tear his eyes away. The entire room seemed to pulse with the beat, and y/n was at the center of it, effortlessly drawing everyone into her orbit. He wasn’t sure if it was the way the song felt so alive, or the way y/n seemed so in tune with every word she sang, but there was something about it—something about her—that hit him harder than he expected.

“She’s good,” Chloe whispered, nudging him. ,,Better than good, actually.”

Pete grinned. “I told you. This is way better than farm chores.”

Clark barely heard them. His focus was entirely on y/n, who was lost in the music. Her eyes glinted with emotion, her whole body swaying in time with the rhythm, and Clark felt that strange spark again, like the first crack of lightning on a stormy night. He was drawn to her in a way he didn’t understand, but the more she sang, the more he couldn’t look away.

y/n smiled briefly as she sang, her gaze briefly meeting Clark’s across the room. It was a fleeting moment, just long enough for him to feel something—a connection he couldn’t name, but he couldn’t ignore.

As she finished the song with a flourish, the crowd cheered, and y/n’s face lit up, glowing with the warmth of the applause. But for a brief second, Clark was still caught in the aftershocks of that look, a smile that was just for him—or at least, that’s how it felt.

The crowd cheered, some shouting their praise while others lingered at the edge of the stage, chatting and laughing. y/n was swarmed by a few people who complimented her performance, but she stayed humble, thanking them with a bright smile and an easy laugh. Theodore hung back, his arms crossed over his chest, watching her with a quiet pride.

As the buzz of conversation filled the air, y/n and her brother moved off the stage, standing near the side of the room to catch their breath. Clark, still lost in the aftershock of her performance, was snapped back to reality when Chloe grabbed his arm, pulling him forward.

“Come on, Clark, let’s go say hi! You can't just stand there looking like you’re stuck in a trance,” she teased, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Pete followed, still grinning. “Yeah, man. She’s great, huh? Let’s go talk to her.”

🖤

They walked toward the area where Y/N and Theodore stood, and for a moment, Clark hesitated. His heart was still pounding, and his mind was a little lost in the world he’d just experienced. It was just a song, just a girl—yet, something about the way she’d sung had gotten under his skin. But as they got closer, he found himself caught in the whirl of people milling around, all eager to meet the new musician, all laughing and talking.

“Hey, I just wanted to say you did an amazing job,” Chloe said, reaching Y/N and flashing her a wide smile.

Y/N returned her smile, her eyes still alight from the performance. “Thanks! Glad you liked it. It’s always a little nerve-wracking to play for people you’ve never met.”

“Well, you nailed it,” Pete chimed in. “You’ve got a real gift. And that song—APT—man, that was infectious. You had everyone in here dancing with you.”

Y/N laughed, her voice warm and sincere. “I’m just glad it got people vibing. It’s one of those silly songs, you know? You gotta embrace the fun in it.”

Theodore stood silently beside her, occasionally nodding when someone complimented his drumming, but for the most part, he seemed content to watch his sister shine in the spotlight.

Clark hung back, not sure if he should join the conversation. His mind was still racing with thoughts of Y/N, of how she seemed so at ease on stage, and how her smile had made him feel like they were the only two people in the room. But he didn’t speak up. Instead, he found himself standing just out of reach, watching quietly, unsure of what to say.

After a few moments, the conversation began to drift away from the music, and people started to break off into smaller groups, chatting about other things. Clark felt the opportunity slipping away.

“I guess we should get going,” Chloe said after a while, her tone casual, but there was a hint of something in her voice, like she could tell Clark was still lost in the night’s events. “It’s getting late, and we don’t want to leave our fearless leader to fend for himself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Pete agreed, giving Clark a playful nudge.

Y/N’s eyes caught Clark’s again as they turned to leave. Their gazes met, and for a heartbeat, it felt like the world paused. But before Clark could say anything—before he could find the courage to step forward and introduce himself—she turned back to talk to someone else, lost in the group.

Clark hesitated, and the moment passed.

“Well, that was… interesting,” Pete said with a grin as they headed toward the door. “You seemed like you were a million miles away, man. You’re telling me you didn’t feel that? She’s something else, huh?”

Chloe gave him a teasing look. “Clark’s not the type to swoon over a girl in a coffee shop, Pete. Let him off the hook.”

Clark didn’t answer. His thoughts were elsewhere, stuck on the look they’d shared. He thought, maybe, there could have been something. But as they walked out of the Talon and into the cool night air, the excitement of the night began to fade, and he couldn’t help but think—he’d probably never see her again.

Y/N looked behind, her gaze following Clark as he walked out of the shop. Her eyes lingered on his tall figure and dark hair—he looked like a soft song, something out of Fleetwood Mac's Dreams or maybe Tears for Fears' Head Over Heels.

Her heart was pounding, maybe from the adrenaline still coursing through her after the performance. Or maybe it was the memory of those ocean-blue eyes.

🖤

The weekend passed, and Monday arrived all too quickly. For some students, it was just another Monday. Clark hadn’t expected to see Y/N again. Hell, he didn’t even know her name or who she was, but a part of him felt like he’d known her forever. Maybe it was the music that surrounded her—the way it made her seem like someone whose story everyone somehow already knew.

He’d thought about her all weekend.

Her song was stuck in his head, just like the memory of those purple lights that seemed to reflect her presence.

But another thought kept creeping in—he’d probably never see her again. She sounded like she came from New York; maybe it had been just a visit. What kind of girl like that would live in Smallville? She seemed like she belonged in a vinyl shop, or in some city where she was constantly surrounded by music.

Yet, as he walked down the hallway of Smallville High, he saw her.

Y/N was leaning against a locker, laughing and talking with Theodore. Her bright smile seemed to light up the entire hallway, and for a moment, Clark felt the world slow down.

He didn’t know what was happening to him. Sure, he’d been shy around Lana earlier that school year, but this was different. He didn’t even know Y/N—he’d only met her eyes across a crowded room. And yet, here he was, feeling… weird.

When their eyes met again, Y/N smiled, a mix of recognition and curiosity. She nudged Theodore and pointed in Clark’s direction.

“That’s the guy from the other two people who congratulated us—Friday night!” she said.

Theodore glanced over his shoulder, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Sis, a lot of people talked to us that night. I barely even remember the girl who gave me her number.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and walked away from her brother, heading straight toward Clark. His steps slowed, but his heart raced faster with every second.

“Hey, aren’t you the guy from the Talon—Friday night?” she asked with a warm smile as she approached him.

Clark blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, yeah. Clark. Clark Kent.”

“Y/N,” she said, extending her hand. Her handshake was firm, confident. “So, do you go to every show, or was Friday just a lucky coincidence?”

“I don’t usually go to shows,” he admitted, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But maybe… I’ll consider going to more.”

Y/N grinned, her expression easy and relaxed. Something about her grounded him, helping him find his footing. She was tilting her head slightly as if studying him. “You don’t seem like the ‘crowded coffee shop’ type. What pulled you in? Was it the music, or did someone drag you there?”

Clark chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Chloe and Pete—they kind of insisted. Said I needed to ‘get out more.’”

“Sounds like good friends,” she said with a laugh. “It were the two that I talked to— right?”

“Yeah—- they loved it seriously,” Clark admitted. “And I… well, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” His words came out more honest than he’d intended, and he quickly added, “The music, I mean. You were amazing up there.”

Her expression softened, a touch of surprise flickering in her eyes. “Thanks. That means a lot.” She paused, glancing at him curiously. “So, what do you do? Besides getting dragged to coffee shops by your friends, I mean.”

“Mostly farm stuff,” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of shyness. “My family has a farm just outside of town.”

“That explains the whole ‘rugged, mysterious’ thing you’ve got going on,” Y/N teased, crossing her arms as she leaned against a nearby locker.

Clark laughed, a little flustered. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me mysterious before.”

“Well, there’s a first for everything,” she said with a playful shrug. Then her tone shifted, becoming more sincere.

Clark smiled and looks at her. ,,And— the guy with the drums was your boyfriend or..?” he said curiously— of course he didn’t want to build up some hopes but, why not asking right?

Her smile widened, and she glanced back toward Theodore, who was still leaning against the lockers, pretending not to listen.

“Well— definitely not. His name is Theodore and he is my older brother. He shares the same passion like me— he is more into sex pistols and I am more into the smiths. But music’s always been my thing. It’s… kind of like home, no matter where I am.” she started to ramble— she was quite a talker.

Clark nodded and found that adorable of how she got into a conversation flow. “That makes sense. You looked like you belonged up there.”

Y/N looked at him for a moment, her gaze softening. “Thanks, Clark. Really.” Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she added, “So, are you going to stick with the ‘guy who never goes to shows’ routine, or are you thinking about breaking that streak?”

He smiled, shifting his weight slightly. “I guess that depends. Are you playing again soon?”

“Maybe,” she said, clearly enjoying the game. “Guess you’ll have to keep an eye out.”

Clark nodded, his shyness melting away as her energy pulled him in. “I’ll do that.”

“Good,” she said with a soft smile. “See you around, Clark Kent.”

And with that, she turned back to Theodore, leaving Clark standing in the middle of the hallway, feeling like the world had shifted just slightly under his feet.

As he watched her walk away, Pete and Chloe appeared at his side, both smirking.

“Smooth, Clark,” Pete teased. “Real smooth.”

Chloe grinned. “So, is this where we start dragging you to more coffee shop gigs?”

Clark didn’t answer. His gaze was still fixed on Y/N, a small, thoughtful smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “Maybe you should.”

🖤 i hope u guys enjoyed! and stream APT by my girl rosé