#okay so maybe I got a little carried away

[casedclosedbye]

The Birthday Overload

Aaron hotchner x reader

Fluff

Wc: 1.5k

It was your birthday, and Aaron Hotchner had promised to get you something special. But what you didn’t expect was for him to get everything you might want… and then some.

You were sitting on the couch, casually scrolling through your phone, when Hotch came back into the apartment, looking slightly frazzled. His arms were weighed down with what seemed like an endless number of shopping bags.

“Hotch, you okay?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at the sight of him struggling to make his way through the door.

He sighed deeply, his usually composed demeanor faltering just slightly. "I… I might’ve gotten a little carried away," he admitted, setting the bags down with a soft grunt, clearly relieved to unload the weight.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his predicament. "What do you mean by ‘a little carried away’?"

"Well," he began, glancing at the mountain of bags, clearly weighing how to explain the madness, "I started with something simple. I thought you’d love this sweater." He pulled out a cozy-looking grey sweater. "But then I worried it might be too plain. So, I bought a pair of boots to go with it."

You eyed the boots, noticing how perfectly they complemented the sweater. Before you could even comment, he dug deeper into one of the bags. "But then I thought, maybe the boots weren’t quite your style. So I grabbed these instead."

Out came a pair of sleek, stylish shoes that could match any outfit in your closet. You stared, dumbfounded, unsure of how to respond to this growing pile of gifts.

"And then," he continued, “I realized, do you even *like* grey? So I bought this." He pulled out a rich, red scarf that contrasted sharply with the muted tones of the sweater and boots. It was elegant, and you could already picture yourself wearing it on a chilly night out.

You blinked a few times, still trying to process the sheer volume of thought he had put into this. "Aaron, you didn’t have to—"

"Oh, wait," he interrupted again, his hands diving back into the bags with renewed determination. "Then I thought you might want something more personalized, so I got you this." He pulled out a beautiful, intricately carved wooden jewelry box. "But then I worried, do you even wear enough jewelry to need a box? So I got you these."

He reached for yet another bag, pulling out two delicate bracelets that shimmered as they caught the light.

You chuckled softly, thoroughly entertained by his internal struggle and sweet yet chaotic effort. "Aaron, I love you, but how many more things did you buy?"

He paused, his expression a mix of determination and uncertainty as if he was working his way through some kind of mental checklist. "Well, I kept thinking maybe you’d want some skincare products." With that, he pulled out an assortment of creams, lotions, and face masks, all neatly packaged and looking as though they belonged in a high-end boutique. "And then," he continued, as if he’d just remembered something crucial, "I got candles. Because, you know, everyone likes candles."

More bags appeared, each one seemingly holding yet another thoughtful item. A plush scarf, a novel you’d mentioned wanting to read, a bag of your favorite snacks from the store, and, as if on cue, the exact blanket you’d been eyeing the other day when you’d made a passing comment about how soft it felt.

You couldn’t help but laugh again, overwhelmed but incredibly touched. "Aaron… I think you’ve gone above and beyond."

Hotch gave you an exasperated yet endearing look, finally sitting down beside you, clearly relieved to have finished unboxing his extensive haul. He ran a hand through his hair, his brow furrowed in mild frustration, but with a fondness for you in his eyes. "I just wanted to get you something you’d really love," he admitted, "but I couldn’t decide what you’d like the most. So… I just kept going."

You kissed his cheek softly, your heart swelling with warmth. "Well, you definitely succeeded. It’s perfect."

He smiled, still a little unsure but clearly relieved. "I’m glad," he murmured, his voice softer now. "I was really worried you wouldn’t like something or it wouldn’t be… enough." His gaze flicked to the pile of presents that now took up most of the space between you both.

You gave him a playful side-eye, though your voice was filled with affection. "Aaron, it’s my birthday. I’m pretty sure I’m going to love everything… even if it takes me a week to unpack it all."

He chuckled, his tension finally easing as he leaned in closer, resting his head against yours. "As long as you’re happy."

You snuggled against him, surrounded by shopping bags and the overwhelming feeling of being loved. Hotch’s gift-giving might have been a little over the top, but you couldn’t deny that the thought, the care, and the genuine desire to make your birthday special had come through in every item.

You felt the warmth of his affection settle around you like the softest blanket, and for the first time in a long while, you simply *relished* in the moment. This wasn’t about the presents or the excessive effort; it was about his commitment to making sure you felt appreciated, to ensuring you were happy, no matter how many bags it took to do that.

The pile of gifts scattered around you was just a symbol of how much Aaron cared, a reminder that love wasn’t always about grand gestures, but sometimes, about going overboard to show someone they meant the world to you. And right now, you couldn’t think of a better way to spend your birthday than in his arms, feeling more loved than you’d ever felt before.

You leaned back into him, content and at peace, knowing that no matter how many presents you opened, the best gift was always going to be him.

[wendichester]

Hello! Hope you are well:)

Could I request a little something where reader is scared to ask for help when it’s about her mental health (and barely ever talks about how she feels if it isn’t a happy feeling) and she’s been keeping everything bottled up for so long, all she needs now is a hug from Dean, but she has no idea how to ask for it? And when he hugs her tears start pooling in her eyes and Dean comforts her?

Thank you!!🫶🏼🫶🏼

(Sorry if it was too specific😅)

౨ৎ ₊˚⊹ comfort,

summary. sometimes all we need is a hug, right?

pairing. dean winchester x reader ; angsty

wordcount. 315

notes. totally get the feeling! thanks for requesting this hun 🥺

You’re fine.

That’s what you keep telling yourself. It’s what you’ve been telling yourself for weeks, maybe months. The weight pressing against your chest, the exhaustion that never fully goes away—it’s just stress. Just another rough patch. You can push through it.

Except, tonight, it feels unbearable.

Dean’s sitting on the edge of the motel bed, flipping through TV channels like it’s just another night on the road. He glances at you, sprawled out stiffly on the other bed, your body curled inward, hands gripping the fabric of your hoodie like it’s the only thing holding you together.

“You okay?”

The question is simple, casual, but it feels like a punch to the gut.

Your first instinct is to nod, to plaster on a smile and say, Yeah, just tired. But the words get stuck. Your throat tightens, and for a second, you think if you speak, you’ll crack wide open.

Dean notices the hesitation. The way your fingers twitch, the way your breath is a little too shallow.

“C’mere,” he says, his voice softer now, his arms opening without hesitation.

Your body moves before your mind can catch up. You barely make it across the room before you sink into his chest, his arms wrapping around you like they were made to fit.

And just like that, the dam breaks.

Tears spill over, silent and unstoppable, soaking into Dean’s flannel as you press your face against his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything—doesn’t rush you, doesn’t pry. He just holds you, one hand smoothing over your back, the other resting at the nape of your neck, grounding you.

“I got you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple. “Whatever’s going on, you don’t have to carry it alone.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, your hands clutching at his shirt. You want to believe him. For now, you just let yourself stay here—safe, warm, held.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion

[emsdevs]

I’m a sucker for Angst, so a heaviest of heavy Angst will always do it for me, like I need my insides to feel like it’s being stabbed and overwhelmed with all sort of emotions. Bonus point if it’s long. Hope this isn’t too much to ask for maybe I’m getting too carried away loll Could you do it with Justin Herbert please?

No Strings?

a/n: nonnie you sent this at the perfect time! I've had justin on my schedule for a while, but couldn't figure out what to write for him, so this worked out perfectly! this does not have a happy ending but i might be open to a part two if enough people want it. enjoyyyy :)

masterlist | NFL Masterlists | Justin Herbert Masterlist

You swore you could handle casual. When you started whatever you had going on with Justin, you swore you were the kind of person who could have a casual relationship, but now you aren’t so sure. When Justin asked you out four months ago, you never would’ve expected to be where you are now. It had all been going so well. The dates had been everything you could’ve asked for and more, and Justin was the perfect gentleman. It all began to go downhill after your third date. You had invited Justin into your apartment when he dropped you off, your intentions clear, and he had followed you inside. You two had been sitting on the couch when things began to get serious, the kiss you were sharing heating up.

Justin pulled away, looking slightly guilty. “I feel like I need to be honest with you about something before this goes any further.”

“Um, yeah, okay,” you were a little confused, but you let him speak.

“Look, because of the job I have, I really can’t do anything serious right now. I know I’ve probably led you on a little bit, but I swear I’ve never had any intentions to hurt you,” he stared at you, looking nervous.

“That’s okay!” you speak up too quickly for your liking. “We don’t have to stop unless that’s what you want. I can do casual.” Surely, you could. It couldn’t be that different from a normal relationship.

“You sure? I don’t wanna overstep if casual isn’t something you’re comfortable with.”

“Yeah, of course. No strings attached. Just having fun.”

As Justin leaned back in, you were thinking that this could definitely work. Justin was great, and this would keep him in your life without overstepping any boundaries. You could do casual.

~~

Turns out, you can’t do casual. You’ve been trying to stay normal, but you realized two days ago that you were falling for Justin, hard. You’d been keeping it to yourself, not wanting to scare him away, but it’s getting more and more difficult. He’s just so sweet, and the things he tends to do for you simply cannot be casual.

Is it casual when he plays with the ends of your hair before you get out of bed in the morning? Is it casual for him, even though he keeps all your favorite snacks at his place for when you have movie nights? If it’s casual, why does he keep a drawer free so you have space to keep a few clothes at his place? If it’s casual, why does he know you better than you know yourself? Why has he gotten you your favorite flowers every two weeks since you went on that first date with him? Why does he know “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days” is the perfect movie to cheer you up after a long day? If it’s casual for him, why is he acting like he’s in love with you?

Eventually, it had gotten to a point where you couldn’t stand lying to him or yourself anymore. After four months of no strings, you had to talk to him. You finally got the chance one night when he invited you over for a movie night. Before the movie got started, you decided it was time to break the news.

“Justin… I actually think we need to talk,” you wiped your hands on your pants, feeling them already starting to sweat from the nerves.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“I just really need to say this, and I know you probably won’t like it, but I need you to listen until I finish,” you pause, waiting for him to nod. “Okay, so, I just feel like we’ve definitely crossed some lines in this arrangement, ya know? Like we both have a drawer at each other’s places. We’re spending the night together, and sometimes, we hang out without even having sex. I just… this isn’t what we originally agreed to,” you were avoiding saying what you were truly feeling.

“So we’ll step back some? I don’t know. That doesn’t seem like something to be worried abou-”

“I caught feelings for you, Justin,” he just stares at you, shocked, “I know we said no feelings, but we’ve just gotten a little too close. We don’t have to stop or anything. I’m a big girl. I can handle-”

“No. No, we should stop,” he cuts you off, and it’s your turn to stare.

“Seriously?”

“We said no strings. I told you I can’t do relationships because of my job. If you have feelings for me, this needs to stop now before it can get worse.”

“Right,” you stood robotically, grabbing your things and walking out of Justin’s house with tears in your eyes. The worst part? He didn’t even try to stop you. Somehow, with one sentence, you ruined something that could’ve been so good for you, that had been so good for you.

~~

Now, it had been three months since that night, and you hadn’t spoken to Justin since. You’ve been going through the motions, just doing a fairly normal routine to make it through your day. You wake up, get dressed, go home, shower, cry while you eat your sorrows away, sleep, and then do it all again the next day. Nothing has felt right since your breakup with Justin, if that’s what you would even call. How can you break up with someone you were never really dating. 

You’ve found your confidence to be much lower recently, too. You couldn’t count the amount of time you’ve wondered where you went wrong. Why did you have to tell him? Why would he not even try? Why didn’t he follow you? Today, you found the answer.

You had decided that a day out would do you some good, so since you had the day off, you got dressed and walked around the city. You were about to go into one of your favorite coffee shops, one that you had brought Justin to many times. As you neared the door, you caught a glimpse of something that shattered your heart in a second. There sat Justin across from some girl you’ve never seen, looking too close to just be friends. You watched as she stood, kissing his cheek before she wandered off to the bathroom. A bright smile made its way onto Justin’s face, a smile you had never managed to bring out of him. With your heart broken all over again, you made your way to a close friend’s place. It was closer than yours, and you knew you didn’t want to be alone right now.

He had told you he couldn’t be in a relationship, but what he really meant was that he couldn’t be in a relationship with you. The questions began to set in again. Were you not pretty enough? Not popular enough? Did he need someone in the same tax bracket as him? Did he really just not like you? Did he think you weren’t good enough for him? Was he lying the entire time, every time he told you how special you were to him

Even with all the questions you had, you knew two things for sure. You were done with Justin Herbert, and you definitely could not do casual.

taglist: @heartsforjh @irishmanwhore @heartforherbert @jusaints @one-sweet-gubler

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[th3mrskory]

Chapter 8: Unfinished Business

Pairing: Original fem!Reader x Origins!Logan Warning: none.

A/N: Alright, here we are—Chapter 8. The one I’ve been lowkey (okay, highkey) dreading. If you’ve made it this far, first of all, I love you. Second, please remember that I write with love, even when it doesn’t feel like it.

This chapter is a lot. It shifts things, breaks things, and maybe hurts a little more than it should. Just know that every word was intentional, and no, I don’t take joy in your suffering (okay, maybe a little, but only in a writerly way).

So, deep breaths. Read when you’re ready. And if you need to yell at me afterward, my inbox is open.

Word count: 8.5k

© th3mrskory. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. I only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.

The cottage was filled with the quiet sounds of preparation—the faint click of a cassette case, the rustle of fabric as Evelyn folded clothes into her suitcase. Outside, the wind carried a bite that seeped into the wooden frame of the house, but inside, the warmth of the fire kept the chill at bay.

Logan leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, silently watching her. His flannel shirt was unbuttoned over a plain henley, the leather jacket hanging from the back of a chair. His gaze was steady but soft, like he was taking in every detail to tuck it away for later.

“You really think all that’s gonna fit in one bag?” he asked, his voice low and carrying the faintest trace of amusement.

Evelyn glanced over her shoulder, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You’d be amazed at what I can cram into a suitcase.”

Logan raised a brow, pushing off the frame to walk closer. “Not sure I’d call it a skill worth braggin’ about.”

She rolled her eyes, returning to folding her clothes. “Well, excuse me, Mr. Minimalist. Not all of us can live out of a duffle bag.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, his hands slipping into his jeans’ pockets as he glanced at the mixtapes stacked neatly beside her bag. “You takin’ all those with you, or you just makin’ it harder to close that thing?”

“They’re essentials,” she said, mock-serious as she tucked a couple into the suitcase. “I’m not about to risk getting stuck with my mom’s radio choices for a whole week.”

Logan smirked faintly, shaking his head. “Can’t blame you for that.”

The playful rhythm of their banter quieted as Evelyn zipped up the suitcase, the moment settling into something softer. Logan reached over to grab something from the arm of the couch—a thick, worn sweater—and held it out to her.

“Here,” he said, his voice lower now. “This’ll keep you warmer than whatever you got packed.”

Evelyn blinked, caught off guard by the simple gesture. She took the sweater, her fingers brushing his as their eyes met. “Logan, I can’t take this. It’s yours.”

“Yeah, and I’m tellin’ you to take it,” he replied, his tone gruff but not unkind. “Don’t argue. Just don’t forget to bring it back.”

Her chest tightened at the unspoken care in his voice. “Alright,” she said softly, folding the sweater and placing it on top of her suitcase.

When everything was packed, they walked out to her truck together, the cold air biting at their faces. Logan stayed close, his hand brushing against her lower back as they crossed the gravel.

As she opened the truck door, Logan lingered, leaning a shoulder against the frame. “You sure you’re good drivin’ this long on your own?”

Evelyn laughed softly, turning to face him. “Logan, it’s a few hours.”

“Doesn’t mean I gotta like it,” he muttered, his tone quiet but firm. His eyes locked on hers, and for a moment, the words he didn’t say filled the space between them.

She smiled, stepping closer. “I’ll be fine. And I’ll call when I get there, okay?”

Logan’s hand came up, brushing against her arm before moving to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly along her skin. “You better,” he said, his voice a rough whisper.

Before she could respond, he leaned in, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was slow and steady, as though he was trying to say everything he couldn’t put into words. Her hand came up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm.

When they finally broke apart, she exhaled softly, her forehead resting against his. “You’re making it really hard to leave, you know that?”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, his smirk returning. “Good. Might make you think twice about goin’ next time.”

She rolled her eyes, stepping back with a reluctant smile. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you like me anyway,” he replied, his tone teasing but his eyes warm.

Climbing into the truck, Evelyn started the engine, the rumble breaking the stillness of the moment. As she pulled away, Logan tapped the roof lightly, his hand lingering there for a second longer than necessary. He watched her until the taillights disappeared down the winding road, the cold air biting at his skin as he stood there, alone but somehow content.

The road stretched out before Evelyn, the winter sun casting long shadows across the frost-dusted trees. The faint hum of the cassette player filled the cab, a mixtape she’d thrown together for the drive keeping her company. But even with her favorite songs spinning through the speakers, her mind drifted back to Logan—the warmth in his gaze, the rough gentleness in his touch, and the way his smirk softened into something almost shy when she kissed him goodbye.

She shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. He had a way of sticking with her, even when he wasn’t around.

The familiar sight of her parents’ house came into view, a two-story colonial tucked away in a quiet neighborhood. The front lawn was adorned with Christmas lights and a plastic Santa that had seen better days, its red suit faded by years of winter storms. Pulling into the driveway, Evelyn let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Home.

Stepping inside, Evelyn was immediately wrapped in the warm embrace of home. The living room smelled of pine and cinnamon, the Christmas tree shimmering with mismatched ornaments that had been collected over decades. Her dad sat cross-legged in front of the TV, muttering under his breath as he fiddled with the VCR. Meanwhile, her mom moved between the kitchen and the dining room, her apron streaked with flour and her hair pinned up in the way she always wore it when things got hectic.

“There she is!” her dad called out, looking up with a wide grin as Evelyn stepped into the room. “Thought you might’ve gotten lost on the way back.”

“Or decided not to come at all,” her mom added, bustling into the living room with a tray of cookies. Her eyes softened as she set the tray down on the coffee table. “How was the drive, sweetheart?”

“Long,” Evelyn admitted, shrugging off her coat. “But it’s good to be home.”

Her dad stood, dusting his hands off and pulling her into a brief but tight hug. “Glad you made it safe. Car still holding up?”

“Barely,” she joked, earning a laugh from him.

Her mom was next, wrapping Evelyn in a flour-scented embrace before stepping back to study her. “You look good,” she said, her tone both approving and surprised. “The fresh air out there must be doing wonders.”

“It helps,” Evelyn replied with a small smile. “How’s everything been here?”

“Oh, you know,” her dad said, gesturing to the VCR. “Just trying to keep up with the latest technology. This thing refuses to cooperate.”

Her mom rolled her eyes. “He’s been saying that about every gadget we’ve had since the coffee maker broke in ‘68.”

The light-hearted conversation drifted into updates on family friends, neighborhood gossip, and holiday plans. Her mom filled her in on the latest drama from the church choir, while her dad complained about the new neighbors who always parked too close to his driveway.

The comforting aroma of roasted turkey, buttery mashed potatoes, and freshly baked rolls filled the kitchen as Evelyn tied an apron around her waist. Her mom stood at the counter, chopping carrots with precise movements, while her dad rummaged through a cabinet, muttering under his breath about the missing gravy boat.

“You sure you’re up for peeling these?” her mom asked, nodding toward the bowl of potatoes on the table.

“I think I can handle it,” Evelyn replied with a teasing smile as she picked up the peeler. “It’s not rocket science, mom.”

Her dad turned from the cabinet, holding up the gravy boat triumphantly. “Found it! Knew it wasn’t lost.”

Her mom shook her head with a fond smile. “You always say that, dear.”

“Because I’m always right,” he shot back, winking at Evelyn as he set the boat on the counter. “How’s that cottage of yours holding up? Pipes not freezing, I hope.”

“Not yet,” Evelyn replied, focusing on the potato in her hand. “Logan’s been helping me keep it in shape. Fixed the roof, patched up some leaks...”

“So,” she began casually, though her tone betrayed her eagerness. “How’s life been out there? Are you settling in okay?”

Evelyn nodded, her fingers playing with the edge of her sweater. “Yeah, it’s been good. Quiet, but... good.”

“And the town?” her dad asked, leaning against the armrest. “People treating you alright?”

“They are,” Evelyn said with a faint smile. “It’s a nice place. Small, but the kind of small where everyone knows everyone.”

Her mom’s eyes narrowed slightly, a glint of teasing in her expression. “And Logan? How’s he treating you?”

“Mom,” Evelyn said, her cheeks warming.

“What?” her mom replied innocently, her hands spreading wide. “We’ve heard all about this Logan—well, from Martha mostly—but we haven’t met him yet. We’re allowed to be curious.”

Before Evelyn could reply, a familiar voice chimed in from the couch. “Good point, Mrs. Bennette,” Martha teased, leaning back with a knowing smirk. “I’m starting to think you made him up just to keep us guessing.”

“Martha!” Evelyn exclaimed, her face lighting up as she turned to see her best friend leaning against the doorframe with a mischievous grin.

“I mean, is he a man or a myth? Because I’m starting to think she made him up.” said Martha playfully.

Rolling her eyes, Evelyn set the peeler down. “He’s real. He’s just busy this time of year.”

“Busy chopping wood?!?” Martha teased, earning a laugh from her dad.

Her dad laughed. “Now that’s a proper job.”

“Actually, yes,” Evelyn replied, pulling off her apron. “Now, if you’re done making jokes...”

“Not a chance,” Martha said, leaning against the counter, a smile tugging at her lips. “Speaking of Logan, I thought he’d have come with you. But hey, do you have a picture of him? We’ve heard so much about him, but we need the proof before I can say he’s real.”

Evelyn hesitated for a moment before reaching into her bag. She pulled out the polaroid she had taken of Logan and handed it over. 

Martha let out a low whistle. “Well, well, well. You weren’t exaggerating. He looks like he stepped out of a western.”

Her dad leaned over her shoulder, squinting at the photo. “Looks like he knows his way around an ax.”

“Oh, he does,” Evelyn said, her smile softening.

Her mom took the photo, studying it closely before handing it back. “Alright. He passes the first test. But we still want to meet him.”

“You will,” Evelyn promised, tucking the photo back into her bag.

“Good,” her mom replied. “Because we just want to make sure he’s the real deal. Especially after... you know.”

Martha nudged her. “When’s the wedding?”

“Oh, stop,” Evelyn said, laughing.

The laughter and teasing flowed effortlessly as dinner approached. The dining room was warm and inviting, illuminated by the soft glow of candlelight reflecting off garlands draped along the edges of the table. Plates of roasted turkey, buttery mashed potatoes, glazed carrots, and cranberry sauce were passed around as conversations overlapped in the way only family meals could.

“Alright, so what’s new with the neighbors?” Evelyn asked, spearing a bite of turkey.

Her dad rolled his eyes dramatically. “New folks moved in last month, parked their moving truck right across our driveway for two hours. Two. Hours.”

Her mom sighed, shaking her head. “Oh, leave them alone, Frank. They’re nice kids.”

“Kids who don’t know how to park,” her dad muttered, earning a chuckle from Evelyn.

Across the table, Martha chimed in. “Still better than the guy who let his dog dig up your flowerbeds last year.”

“Don’t remind me,” her mom said, groaning. “That man owes me an apology—and a hydrangea.”

The lighthearted banter carried on, giving Evelyn a moment to soak it all in. It wasn’t just the conversation or the food—it was the feeling of being surrounded by people who knew her so deeply, even the parts she tried to keep hidden.

The fire in the living room crackled softly, casting flickering shadows on the walls. It was late, the kind of quiet that only settled after a long day. Evelyn and Martha were cocooned under a heavy knit blanket, their mugs of cocoa sending curls of steam into the cool air. Bing Crosby crooned softly from the record player, a fitting backdrop for the cozy scene.

Martha took a sip of her cocoa, her mischievous grin already in place. “Alright, enough stalling. You and Logan. Speak.”

Evelyn groaned, tilting her head back against the couch. “Why did I know this was coming?”

“Because I’m me, and you knew I wouldn’t let you off the hook.” Martha set her mug down on the coffee table, turning to face her with an expectant look. “So, what’s the deal? I need details. Is he as rugged and mysterious as the picture made him look?”

A smile tugged at Evelyn’s lips as she swirled the cocoa in her mug. “He’s... everything I didn’t know I needed. He’s steady, patient, and...”

“And?” Martha arched a brow, leaning closer. “Don’t leave me hanging.”

Evelyn exhaled, her voice softening. “And he makes me feel safe.”

The teasing faded from Martha’s expression, replaced by something warmer, more sincere. “That’s good, babe. That’s really good.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of those words settling between them. Martha reached for her mug again, taking a slow sip before breaking the stillness. “So... have things gotten serious yet? You know, serious?”

Evelyn nearly choked on her cocoa, setting the mug down hastily. “Martha!”

“What? It’s a fair question!” Martha held up her hands, feigning innocence. “I mean, you’ve been seeing this guy for months now, and from what I can tell, he’s the real deal. So, have you...?”

Evelyn shook her head, her cheeks warming. “We’re taking it slow.”

“Slow as in...?”

“Slow as in I want to be sure.” Evelyn picked at the edge of the blanket, her voice quiet but firm. “After everything with... you know who, I can’t just rush into something like this. I need to know it’s real.”

Martha nodded, her teasing replaced by understanding. “And he’s okay with that?”

“He is.” A small smile crept across Evelyn’s face. “He’s patient. He doesn’t push. He just... gets it.”

“Sounds like a keeper to me.” Martha leaned back, propping her feet up on the coffee table. “But don’t let your nerves mess this up. The guy sounds like he’s crazy about you.”

Evelyn let out a soft laugh, her fingers tracing the edge of her mug. “I think I’m falling for him.”

“You think?” Martha shot her a look. “Babe, you’re head over heels, and everyone but you can see it.”

“That’s what scares me,” Evelyn admitted, her voice dropping to a whisper. “What if I get it wrong again?”

Martha reached over, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. “You’re not getting it wrong. Not this time. This Logan guy? He sounds like he’s in it for the long haul. And from what you’ve told me, he’s exactly what you deserve.”

Evelyn blinked back the sting of tears, nodding slowly. “Thanks, Martha.”

“Always.” Martha leaned back with a content sigh. “Now, do me a favor and bring him around next time, okay? I need to see if he lives up to the hype in person.”

Evelyn chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it.” Martha shot her a wink, pulling the blanket tighter around them.

As the fire burned low and the record spun to its final song, Evelyn felt the tentative stirrings of hope. Maybe this Christmas wasn’t just about coming home. Maybe it was about finding a new one, too.

The bedroom was dim, the moonlight spilling through the curtains casting faint silver streaks across the walls. Evelyn shifted restlessly under the covers, her thoughts chasing themselves in endless circles. She missed Logan—his steady presence, his warm touch, the way his voice had a way of grounding her when her mind wandered too far.

Her gaze drifted to the rotary phone on the nightstand. The pull to hear his voice was stronger than her hesitation, and before she could second-guess herself, she reached for the receiver and dialed the number.

The line rang a few times before a familiar gruff voice answered, tinged with sleep but still unmistakably him.

“Yeah?”

“It’s me,” she whispered, feeling her cheeks warm even though he couldn’t see her. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

A soft huff of amusement came through the line. “No. What’s on your mind?”

She hesitated for a moment, twisting the cord around her fingers. “I just... couldn’t sleep. Thought maybe talking to you might help.”

There was a pause on the other end, and she could almost picture him sitting up in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck in that way he always did. “Missin’ me already?” he teased lightly, though the warmth in his voice sent a soothing ache through her chest.

“Maybe,” she admitted, a small smile tugging at her lips. “How about you?”

“Wouldn’t be answering the phone at this hour if I wasn’t,” Logan replied, the hint of a smirk audible in his tone.

She laughed softly, the tension in her chest loosening slightly. “My parents and Martha have been asking about you, you know. You’re kind of a big deal around here now.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice carried a lazy curiosity. “What’re they sayin’?”

“Well, my mom wants to know when you’re coming to meet them,” she said, her smile widening. “And Martha... she was pretty convinced I made you up until I showed them the Polaroid.”

“The Polaroid?” Logan’s voice shifted, a touch of playful exasperation creeping in. 

“Yes, that one,” she replied, grinning. 

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, the sound rumbling low in his chest. “Didn’t know I was on display.”

“You weren’t,” she teased. “It’s just... they’re curious. My mom said you pass the first test, by the way. But they still want to meet you.”

“Figured as much,” he said, his voice softer now. “How’d you handle all the questions?”

“I survived,” she said, letting out a small laugh. “But I think they’re just worried. After everything that happened... they just want to make sure I’m okay. And that I’m not making a mistake.”

Logan was quiet for a moment before speaking, his tone steady but filled with quiet conviction. “You’re not makin’ a mistake, darlin’. Not with me.”

Her breath caught, and for a moment, all the noise in her mind faded, leaving only the sound of his voice. “I know,” she said softly. “But hearing you say it helps.”

“Good,” he replied. “’Cause I mean it.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, the hum of the line connecting them across the miles. Finally, Logan spoke again, his voice tinged with amusement. “Anything else you wanna tell me? Or you just callin’ to butter me up?”

“Actually,” she said, smiling, “I just missed you. And the sound of your voice.”

“Yeah, well,” Logan said, his voice low and warm, “you keep talkin’ like that, you’ll have me drivin’ out there tonight.”

She laughed, the sound light and unrestrained. “I’d better let you get some sleep, then.”

“You sure?” he asked, his tone softening.

“I’m sure,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Good night, Logan.”

“Good night, Evelyn,” he murmured. “Call if you need me. Anytime.”

As the call ended, she set the receiver back on the cradle, her heart feeling lighter. Pulling the blankets up to her chin, she closed her eyes, the memory of his voice lingering in the stillness.

The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of the furnace and the occasional clatter of dishes as Evelyn moved through the kitchen. She’d been trying to keep herself busy, but her thoughts kept drifting—to Logan, to the cottage, and to how strange it felt to be back in her childhood home for so long.  

Her mother’s soft cough echoed from the living room, pulling her from her thoughts. Peeking around the corner, Evelyn saw her mom bundled under a quilt, her head resting against the arm of the couch. Her dad was in his armchair, snoring lightly, the TV playing a muted rerun of a Christmas movie.  

Evelyn smiled faintly before stepping back into the kitchen. She was just about to start chopping the rest of the carrots when the phone rang, startling her. She wiped her hands on a dish towel and picked up the receiver, the old rotary clicking slightly as she adjusted her grip.  

“Hello?”  

“Hey,” Logan’s voice rumbled on the other end, warm and steady. “Caught you at a bad time?”  

The tension in her shoulders eased immediately, a smile tugging at her lips. “Not at all. How are you?”  

“Still in one piece,” he replied, his tone light but tinged with something softer. Figured I’d check in, see how Christmas went.”

Evelyn glanced toward the living room, where her dad sat fiddling with the knobs on the TV, and her mom rested on the couch with a blanket draped over her lap. “It was nice. Quiet. A little different, though, being back here for so long.”

“Different good or different bad?” Logan asked.

“Good,” she said quickly, then hesitated. “Mostly good. Just... takes some getting used to.”

Logan hummed in understanding. “Glad you made it through, anyway.”

“What about you?” she asked, her voice softening. “How was yours?”

“Spent it with Pete and his family,” he said, the faintest hesitation in his voice. “His wife insisted I stay for dinner. Kids roped me into playin’ some board game. Don’t ask me what it was—I’m pretty sure they made up half the rules as they went.”

She laughed softly, picturing Logan sitting awkwardly at a cluttered table, kids climbing over him while he tried to make sense of the chaos. “Sounds like you were the life of the party.”

“Hardly,” he muttered, but there was a faint chuckle beneath his words. “Pete’s wife sent me home with leftovers, though. Guess I didn’t screw up her kitchen too bad when I was helpin’ her cook.”

“You cooked?” Evelyn asked, her eyebrows lifting in surprise.

“Mostly peelin’ potatoes,” Logan admitted. “But she didn’t throw me out, so I’ll call it a win.”

Evelyn shook her head, grinning. “Sounds like you had a better time than you’re letting on.”

“Maybe,” he said, and for a moment, there was a quiet warmth in his voice that made her chest tighten.  

Evelyn’s smile softened, her heart giving a small, unsteady thud. “And the cottage? Holding up without me?”  

“It’s lonely,” Logan teased, though there was a hint of truth in his words. “Roof’s still got that damn leak, but I’ll take care of it.”  

“Maybe it’s waiting for me to come back,” she quipped, though her voice faltered slightly at the end.  

“Could be,” Logan said, and for a moment, his tone shifted—deeper, more certain.  

She hesitated, her fingers twisting the phone cord as she tried to put her feelings into words. “I miss it,” she admitted softly. “Miss you.”  

There was a beat of silence, heavy but not uncomfortable. When Logan spoke again, his voice was quieter, rougher. “Same here.”  

Evelyn exhaled slowly, glancing toward the doorway to make sure no one was listening. “How’s everything else? Are the guys at the site keeping you in line?”  

Logan huffed a quiet laugh. “As much as they can. They’ve been askin’ about you, though. Wonderin’ when you’re comin’ back.”  

“Tell them I’ll be back in a couple of days,” she teased, her smile widening.  

“They’ll like that,” Logan said, a faint smirk in his tone.  

The conversation drifted for a while—Logan asking about her parents, Evelyn filling him in on her mom’s slow recovery and the small, familiar chaos of being back home. But as the minutes ticked by, the weight of her absence grew heavier.  

“If it gets too much,” Logan said suddenly, his voice low and steady, “you call me. Don’t care what time it is.”  

Her breath caught at the quiet conviction in his words. “Logan...”  

“Just sayin’,” he added, his tone softening. “You don’t gotta do all this on your own.”  

The lump in her throat grew tighter, but she swallowed it down, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Thank you,” she murmured. “For everything.”  

“Don’t gotta thank me,” Logan replied. “Just come back when you’re ready.”  

“I will,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I promise.”  

“Good,” he said simply. “Take care of yourself, alright?”  

“You too,” she whispered.  

When the call ended, she stood there for a moment, the receiver still warm in her hand. Setting it down gently, she pressed her palm against her chest, trying to steady the ache blooming there.  

Logan’s voice lingered in her mind long after the dial tone faded, his quiet reassurance wrapping around her like a blanket.  

The morning was brisk, the kind of winter chill that clung to your skin and settled in your bones. Logan, Pete, and Rick were on the roof of Evelyn’s cottage, bundled in thick flannels and jackets. The sound of hammers and scraping metal filled the air as they worked in a steady rhythm, shingles and nails in hand.

Logan paused for a moment, scanning the roofline for any weak spots. His expression was focused, but there was a tension in his movements that hadn’t gone unnoticed by his coworkers.

“This place is coming together,” Pete said, wiping his brow and glancing at Logan. “She’s gonna love it when she gets back.”

Logan grunted in response, driving another nail into the shingle in front of him.

Rick climbed up the ladder, carrying another bundle of shingles. “You’ve been awfully quiet today, Howlett. Something on your mind?”

“Nope,” Logan replied, though the sharpness in his tone suggested otherwise.

Pete smirked, leaning on his hammer. “Come on, man. We’ve known you long enough to know when something’s eating at you. Let me guess—it’s her.”

Logan shot him a look, but Pete just grinned. “Thought so,” he said. “What’s the problem? Trouble in paradise?”

“No,” Logan said sharply, then softened. “She’s just... not here. Staying with her parents for a while.”

Rick leaned against the truck, crossing his arms. “And you’re what? Pining?”

Pete laughed. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Shut it,” Logan muttered, though his tone lacked any real bite.

Rick raised an eyebrow, studying Logan for a moment before smirking. “You miss her.”

Logan didn’t respond, but the slight tension in his shoulders was answer enough.

Pete clapped him on the back. “So, go see her.”

“It’s not that simple,” Logan said, his voice low.

“Why not?” Rick asked, genuinely curious. “You’re over here fixing up her cottage like it’s your full-time job. Might as well check in on her while you’re at it.”

Logan hesitated, his jaw tightening. “She’s with her family. It’s not my place to just show up unannounced.”

Rick snorted. “You’re kidding, right? You’re the guy she calls when there’s a busted pipe or a leaky roof. If anyone’s got a place, it’s you.”

“Besides,” Pete added, grinning, “you’re not exactly the flowers-and-candy type. Showing up’s probably the most romantic thing you could do.”

Rick sat down on the edge of the roof, pulling off his gloves. “Seems to me like you’re overthinking it. If she’s been talking about you to her folks—and let’s be honest, she has—they’d probably be happy to meet you.”

Logan’s grip on the hammer tightened, but he kept working.

Pete chuckled, crossing his arms. “You don’t even know where she is, do you?”

Logan shot him a warning look, but Pete just laughed harder.

“All this time, you’re patching up her place, missing her like crazy, and you don’t even know how to find her.”.Pete said.

Logan didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the roofline.

“Bet there’s something in the house with her parents’ address on it,” Rick said casually, glancing toward the open window below. “Mail, a note—anything.”

Logan finally set down his hammer, wiping his hands on his jeans. “We’re here to fix the roof, not go digging through her stuff.”

“Relax, no one’s saying snoop,” Pete said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But if it were me, I’d want to know where to find her. Just in case.”

Logan exhaled sharply, standing and stretching his shoulders. “Roof’s almost done. Let’s finish it up.”

But as he climbed down the ladder to grab more supplies, his eyes drifted toward the kitchen window. The thought of finding her address lingered in his mind, a quiet pull he couldn’t quite shake.

The late morning sun cast long shadows across the cottage as Logan stepped inside for a moment to grab more supplies.He brushed his hands on his flannel, his boots clunking softly against the floor as he moved toward the kitchen.

The countertop was cluttered with the usual—mugs, an old notebook, a pair of gloves Evelyn had left behind. As Logan reached for the tool bucket by the sink, his eyes caught sight of an envelope tucked partially under the corner of a cookbook.

He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly as he pulled it free. The envelope had her family’s last name neatly written on it, along with an address.

He turned it over in his hands, his thumb brushing against the edge. His gaze lingered on the handwriting for a moment before he exhaled, setting it back down on the counter.

But something about it stuck with him.

“You find the shingles?” Pete called from outside, his voice muffled through the walls.

Logan grabbed the bucket and headed back out, the cold air hitting him like a wall.

“Yeah,” he said gruffly, setting the tools down near the ladder.

Pete and Rick were leaning against the side of the truck, sharing a thermos of coffee. Pete raised an eyebrow when Logan approached. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Logan shot him a pointed look but didn’t respond.

Rick, ever the observer, glanced between them. “Let me guess. You found something?”

“No,” Logan said sharply, but Pete wasn’t buying it.

“What was it? A love letter?” Pete teased, smirking.

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he muttered under his breath as he grabbed another bundle of shingles.

“Come on, man,” Pete said, chuckling. “If it’s something that’ll get you closer to her, maybe you oughta take the chance.”

Logan paused, one hand on the ladder. He didn’t look at either of them as he said, “It’s her parents’ address.”

Rick let out a low whistle. “Well, there’s your answer.”

Logan climbed back up to the roof without another word, his mind racing even as his hands worked mechanically. The idea of showing up unannounced wasn’t sitting right with him, but the thought of seeing her—making sure she was okay—was something he couldn’t shake.

The workday wrapped up with the sun dipping low, casting a golden glow over the yard. Logan stood by the truck, rolling up his sleeves as Pete and Rick packed up the last of the tools.

“So, you gonna do it?” Pete asked, leaning against the tailgate with a grin.

Logan glanced at him, his brow furrowed. “Do what?”

“Go see her,” Rick said, smirking. 

Logan exhaled, running a hand over the back of his neck. “I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right, showing up unannounced.”

Pete rolled his eyes. “It’s Christmas, Howlett. If now’s not the time for grand gestures, when is?”

Rick nodded in agreement. “Worst-case scenario, her dad hates you. Best case? You get to spend a few days with the woman you’re crazy about.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You two don’t quit, do you?”

“Not when we’re right,” Pete said, grinning.

Logan climbed into the truck, his thoughts swirling as he started the engine. As the truck rumbled to life, Pete leaned in through the open window. “You’ll thank us later.”

Logan didn’t reply, but as he pulled out of the driveway, a faint smirk tugged at his lips. The idea of seeing her—of finally meeting her family—wasn’t as impossible as it had seemed just hours ago.

The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the bare trees, casting long shadows across the snow-covered lawn of her parents’ house. Evelyn had just finished stacking firewood along the side of the house when the low hum of a car engine broke the quiet. Wiping her hands on her coat, she turned to see a sleek, black sedan pulling into the driveway.

Her stomach dropped as the car door opened, and a figure she never thought she’d see again stepped out. William.

“Are you kidding me?” she muttered under her breath, yanking off her gloves and storming toward him.

He flashed her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Nice to see you too, Evie.”

“Don’t call me that. What are you doing here?” she snapped, keeping her voice low but firm.

He held up his hands in mock surrender, his breath puffing in the cold air. “Heard your mom was under the weather. Thought I’d stop by and see how she’s doing.”

She glared at him, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “You ‘heard’? From who?”

“It’s a small town,” he replied smoothly, leaning casually against his car. “People talk.”

“You have no right to be here,” she said, her voice sharper now. “My family doesn’t want to see you. I don’t want to see you.”

“Is that so?” he asked, his tone softening as he took a small step closer. “Because the last time I checked, we had years together, Evelyn. I know I messed up, but does that really mean you want to erase all of it?”

She flinched, his words landing like a slap. “You didn’t just mess up. You humiliated me in front of everyone I cared about, and then disappeared like a coward. There’s no fixing that.”

His expression wavered, and for a moment, she thought she saw something genuine in his eyes—regret, maybe, or guilt. But then he took another step closer, his voice dropping to a softer, more calculated tone.

“I’ve been trying to move on,” he said quietly. “But every time I think I’m getting there, I think of you. I miss us, Evelyn.”

Her throat tightened, a whirlwind of emotions swirling in her chest. She opened her mouth to respond, to push him further away, but the words got stuck.

He took the hesitation as an opening, reaching out to gently touch her arm. “I’m sorry for what I did. If I could take it back, I would.I’m here now.”

She shook her head, her voice trembling. “You can’t just show up here and expect me to forget everything you put me through. It doesn’t work like that.”

“I’m not asking you to forget,” he said, stepping even closer. “I’m asking for a second chance.”

Before she could respond, he closed the distance between them and leaned in. His lips brushed against hers softly, tentatively, and for a split second, she didn’t move.

Her mind raced, a chaotic storm of emotions swirling in her chest. The shock of the moment rooted her to the spot, but just as quickly as it started, she shoved him back, her voice trembling with anger.

The sound of footsteps crunching against the snow made her whirl around. Rounding the corner of the house, Logan came into view, his broad frame taut with tension as he took in the scene before him.

His gaze locked on hers for a brief moment before flicking to her ex-fiancé. His expression was unreadable—stone-faced, his jaw set tightly—but there was a flicker of something in his eyes that made her stomach drop.

“Logan,” she breathed, panic surging through her chest.

Her ex-fiancé’s voice broke through the haze, dripping with false charm. “Well, well,” he said, his smirk cutting like a knife. “Is this the infamous boyfriend? Saw you at the fair. Figured I’d see what all the fuss was about.”

“Logan,” Evelyn said softly, her voice shaking as she took a step toward him. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, torn between relief at his presence and terror at what he must think. “This isn’t—”

Logan’s gaze moved from her ex to her, his expression unreadable. But his eyes—those eyes she had come to trust so deeply—were shadowed with something raw. Hurt. Disbelief.

“Don’t,” he said quietly, his voice calm but cold. He stayed where he was, his boots crunching on the snow-covered driveway. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“Yes, you should have,” she said, her voice rising, almost desperate. “Logan, this isn’t what it looks like. He just showed up, and—”

“Seems like bad timing,” her ex interrupted with a smirk, his hands stuffed casually in his pockets. He glanced at Logan, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. “But you’ve got to admit, it’s a little funny. You showing up right now.”

“Shut up!” she snapped, spinning on him. “You’ve done enough damage.”

Logan didn’t move, didn’t flinch, but the way his jaw tightened was like a hammer to her chest. He was standing so still, so composed, but she could feel the weight of his silence.

“You don’t owe me an explanation,” he said finally, his voice so quiet it felt like a blade slicing through the cold. “I shouldn’t have come unannounced.”

“Logan, no,” she pleaded, stepping closer to him. Tears burned her eyes, but she forced herself to keep looking at him. “Don’t go. Please, don’t go.”

But Logan just shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Take care of yourself, Evelyn,” he said, turning back toward his truck.

“Logan!” she cried, reaching for him, her voice breaking. “Please, I—”

He didn’t stop. He didn’t even look back. The door slammed shut behind him, and the truck roared to life. She stood frozen, helpless, as he drove off.

As the taillights disappeared down the road, the silence left behind was suffocating.

Her ex let out a low chuckle, his voice grating against her frayed nerves. “Well, that went about as expected. I guess he wasn’t—”

“Shut up!” she screamed, the words ripping from her throat as she turned on him. Her hands shoved him hard, her fury exploding like a dam breaking.

He stumbled back, his cocky smirk faltering for the first time. “Whoa, hey—”

“Get out!” she yelled, her voice raw and trembling. Tears streamed down her face as she shoved him again, harder this time. “Get out of here! You’ve ruined enough!”

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, raising his hands in mock surrender. But his eyes hardened as he straightened. “Jesus you’re overreacting.”

Her chest heaved as she glared at him, her voice shaking with fury. “You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to show up here and ruin my life again!”

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at her with something akin to surprise. Then, without another word, he climbed into his car and drove off, the headlights casting long, mocking shadows across the driveway as he disappeared into the night.

And then it hit her. The weight of it all crashed down on her shoulders, and she collapsed to her knees in the snow, her sobs tearing through the stillness.

“Logan,” she whispered brokenly, the word slipping from her lips like a prayer. But the night swallowed her voice, leaving her alone in the icy darkness.

The sound of the front door opening was muffled by her cries, but the warmth of her father’s hand on her shoulder brought her back to the moment.

“Sweetheart,” he said softly, kneeling beside her in the snow. His voice was steady, calm, but there was a deep concern in his tone that only a father could carry. “Come here.”

Before she could protest, he pulled her into a tight hug, his strong arms wrapping around her as if to shield her from the world. The warmth of his embrace broke something loose inside her, and she clung to him, her tears soaking into the fabric of his coat.

“I ruined everything,” she choked out, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “He’s gone. He—he thinks I...” Her words dissolved into sobs, her body shaking in his hold.

Her father held her tighter, his hand smoothing over her hair in a soothing rhythm. “No, sweetheart. You didn’t ruin anything,” he murmured firmly. “This isn’t the end. Not by a long shot.”

“But, Dad,” she cried, her voice breaking, “he saw... he saw that, and I—”

“Shh,” he interrupted gently, leaning back just enough to look her in the eyes. His hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing away her tears. “Listen to me, okay? Whatever happened, it’s not the end of the world. You care about him, right?”

She nodded, her breath hitching.

“Then you’ll fix this,” he said simply, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “Logan’s a good man, from everything you’ve told us. He’s not going to walk away from you over a misunderstanding. You’ll explain it to him, and he’ll see what we see.”

Her lip quivered, fresh tears threatening to spill over. “What if it’s too late?”

“It’s not too late,” he said firmly, his grip on her steadying her as she wavered. “Sometimes things get messy, but if this man cares for you even half as much as you care for him, he’ll listen. He’ll come back. You just need to give it time.”

The certainty in his words was a balm to her frayed nerves, and though her heart still ached, she felt a small flicker of hope light up in the darkness.

Her father pulled her into another hug, his chin resting on top of her head. “You’re strong, kiddo,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve been through worse than this, and you’ve always come out the other side. This time won’t be any different.”

She clung to him, her tears beginning to slow as the weight of his words settled in her chest. His presence, solid and unwavering, reminded her that she wasn’t alone in this.

Finally, he pulled back, his hands resting on her shoulders. “Now, come inside,” he said gently. “You’re freezing, and I’m not about to let you catch your death out here.”

She managed a shaky nod, her legs unsteady as he helped her to her feet. Together, they walked back toward the house, her father keeping a steadying arm around her as they stepped into the warmth of home.

The pain was still there, raw and unyielding, but her father’s words gave her something to hold onto—a promise that things could, and would, get better.

As the door closed behind them, the warmth of the house wrapped around Evelyn, but it did little to soothe the icy ache in her chest. Her father guided her to the couch, his arm still firmly around her shoulders. She sank into the cushions, her head bowed, and fresh tears threatened to spill again.

Her dad watched her for a moment, his expression torn. Then, with a deep sigh, he patted her hand. “Stay here,” he said gently. “I’ll be right back.”

Evelyn barely registered his words, her mind a storm of regret and panic. She buried her face in her hands, the memory of Logan’s face as he walked away replaying in her mind like a cruel loop.

In the kitchen, her father picked up the phone, his fingers pausing over the rotary dial before dialing a familiar number. The line rang twice before a familiar voice answered.

“Hello?” Martha’s voice was bright, but it quickly shifted to concern when she heard who it was. “Mr. Bennette? Is everything okay?”

“Not exactly,” he admitted, lowering his voice to avoid being overheard. “It’s about Evelyn. She’s... she’s not doing too well.”

“What happened?” Martha’s voice was sharp now, all traces of levity gone.

Her father explained in brief, measured tones—how her ex-fiancé had shown up, how things had spiraled, and how Logan had seen what he wasn’t supposed to see.

“She’s a mess, Martha,” he said finally, his voice heavy with worry. “I don’t think she’s in any shape to sort this out on her own, and she’s worried about leaving her mom.”

There was a pause on the line before Martha spoke again, her voice resolute. “I’m coming over.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Mr. Bennette,” Martha interrupted, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You know as well as I do that she’s not going to fix this while she’s here, stewing in her guilt. I’ll come and look after Mrs. Bennette. You just make sure she goes after Logan.”

He let out a slow, relieved breath. “Thank you, Martha. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Well, she owes me big for this,” Martha said, her tone softening just a bit. “I’ll be there in a couple of days. Make sure she’s packed and ready by then.”

When her dad returned to the living room, Evelyn hadn’t moved, still curled into herself on the couch. He crouched down in front of her, resting his hands on her knees.

“Martha’s coming,” he said gently.

Evelyn blinked at him, confusion flickering across her tear-streaked face. “Why? What for?”

“She’s going to help with your mom,” he explained, his voice steady but kind. “So you can go take care of something more important.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, her voice thick with emotion.

“Logan,” he replied simply.

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

“You need to go to him, sweetheart,” he continued. “He doesn’t deserve to be left hanging, thinking the worst. If what you told me about him is true, he’ll understand. But you’ve got to tell him the truth. In person.”

Tears welled up in her eyes again, and she shook her head. “What if it’s too late? What if... what if he doesn’t want to hear it?”

Her dad reached up, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. “Then at least you’ll know you tried. But something tells me that man cares about you too much to walk away that easily. You just have to let him know you feel the same.”

The storm of emotions in her chest finally stilled as she stared at him. His words settled something deep within her, and after a moment, she nodded, determination flickering in her tear-filled eyes.

“I’ll go,” she whispered, her voice trembling but resolute.

Her dad gave her a small, proud smile. “That’s my girl.”

The following morning, Evelyn sat at the foot of her mother’s bed, a tray of tea and toast balanced on her lap. Her mother’s cheeks had regained some color, but her sharp gaze hadn’t dulled despite the fever.

“You look tired,” her mom said softly, taking a sip of tea.

“I’m fine,” Evelyn replied, offering a small smile. “Just worried about you.”

Her mother set the cup down on the tray, studying her daughter intently. “That’s not all, is it?”

Evelyn hesitated, her fingers playing with the edge of the blanket. “It’s nothing important.”

“It’s about him, isn’t it? Logan.”

The sound of his name sent a pang through her chest. She nodded slowly. “He... he saw something, something that wasn’t what it looked like. But he left before I could explain.”

Her mother reached out, her frail hand covering Evelyn’s. “Men like that don’t come around often. Don’t let fear stop you from making things right.”

Tears blurred Evelyn’s vision. “What if he doesn’t forgive me?”

Her mother squeezed her hand gently. “Then you hold your head high and know you did your best. But from the way you’ve spoken about him, I don’t think he’ll turn his back on you so easily.”

Two days later, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway stirred Evelyn from her restless thoughts. She peeked out the window, her breath fogging up the glass as she spotted Martha stepping out of her car, bundled in a thick coat and balancing a casserole dish in her gloved hands.

“Hope you’re ready for reinforcements!” Martha called out, her voice bright despite the chill in the air.

Evelyn opened the door, the cold wind brushing past her as she stepped outside. “Thanks for coming,” she said, managing a faint smile as she stepped aside to let Martha in.

Martha kicked off her boots and set the casserole dish on the kitchen counter, pulling off her gloves with an exaggerated flourish. “First order of business,” she announced, “this is my famous ‘everything but the kitchen sink’ casserole. Guaranteed to keep everyone alive while you’re gone.”

Evelyn couldn’t help but laugh softly, though the sound was tinged with exhaustion. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

Martha waved her off. “Please, your parents love me. I’ll have your mom eating out of my hand by tomorrow morning.” Her expression softened as she turned to face Evelyn. “Your dad filled me in. You okay?”

“I don’t know,” Evelyn admitted, her voice cracking slightly. She wrapped her arms around herself, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Well,” Martha said firmly, stepping closer and placing her hands on Evelyn’s shoulders, “first things first: you’re going to go find Logan. And while you do that, I’ll take care of everything here. Your mom, your dad, the casserole consumption. Deal?”

Evelyn hesitated, her eyes flicking toward the living room where her father was stoking the fire. “It feels selfish, leaving like this.”

“It’s not selfish,” Martha said, her voice resolute. “You’ve been here, taking care of everything and everyone. Now it’s time to take care of yourself.”

As if on cue, her father entered the kitchen, dusting his hands off as he closed the fireplace screen. His expression was warm, a quiet pride shining in his eyes as he looked at his daughter. “She’s right, sweetheart. We’ve got everything handled here. You’ve done more than enough.”

Evelyn felt her chest tighten, the weight of her guilt and hesitation threatening to crush her. But as she looked between her father and Martha—two of the people who knew her best—she felt a flicker of determination spark within her.

“Okay,” she said softly, nodding as the resolve began to take hold. “I’ll go.”

Her father smiled, pulling her into a tight hug. “That’s my girl.”

Martha clapped her hands together, her grin returning. “Alright! Let’s get you packed. No time to waste.”

As Evelyn headed toward her room to grab her things, her heart still felt heavy with the weight of uncertainty. But for the first time in days, she also felt a glimmer of hope—a belief that maybe, just maybe, she could make things right.

Chapter 7

______________________________________________________________tagging some amazing people that showed interest on my previous post (if you don't want to be tagged please let me know):

Taglist

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© th3mrskory 2025 — all rights reserved.

[vigilvntes]

anyway i have been thinking about how much i want adrian to fuck me (this would fix me i know it would) but like specifically i really want to make out with him. i wanna feel his whole tongue in my mouth while he holds me (cause im horny but also i a softie dammnit).

i get the vibe that he hooks up regularly as vigilante so hes experienced in bed more than people would think, but since he keeps the mask on he doesnt kiss much. but when hes close enough with someone he can take off? with be ALL over you with his mouth. will be kissing you nonstop.

OKAYYYY FUCKBOY VIG AND TOUCH STARVED ADRIAN I SEE THE VISION

but yes i definitely agree that he's a dark horse when it comes down to it. i mean maybe im delusional maybe im fucked in the head but you can't convince me that absolutely no one in that town has fucked around with vig because let me tell you i would be FIRST IN LINE!!! he's been running around for years, and it seems that at this point people have just kinda made peace with him being there?? so no doubt he has hookups like he's charming and confident when he's in the suit and we see that a lot in the show. so yes. he probably fucks a lot as vig.

but adrian???? out of the suit???? touch starved. it's all well and good when there's a barrier between him and whoever he's sleeping with (literally), but warm fingertips brushing his hair from his face??? clinging on to his bare back while he fucks you??? soft, breathless kisses while the two of you moan into each others mouths???? he's a sucker for it. all the hookups in the world, all the people that throw themselves at him after he saves them from being mugged will never, ever compare to just being himself, just being adrian, around someone who accepts him for who he is and what he does and someone he trusts enough to keep that secret.

as soon as he comes home he'd rip the mask straight off and his lips would be straight on yours. doesn't matter if he's had a good night or a bad night, touching you, kissing you, his tongue in your mouth and the little surprised noise you make when he bites down on your bottom lip is enough to make him feel like he's on cloud nine. he'd kiss you until you literally can't breathe, and if you pulled away from him to catch your breath the most pathetic whine would leave his throat and he'd turn his attention to your neck instead. the whole time he's inside of you, his lips are on yours. missionary?? he's kissing you until your lips are blue. from behind?? he's leaning over, grabbing your chin and making you turn your head so he can slip his tongue into your mouth.

and his affinity for kisses doesn't just apply to sex!!!! he'll wrap his arms around your waist when the two of you are cooking dinner just to plant the sloppiest, wettest kisses on your cheek just so you'll giggle and playfully slap him away. before you leave the apartment you have to swipe the AKM (adrian kissing machine). he'll probably get moody if he doesn't get a kiss in the morning.

if you're both feeling nasty he'll spit in your mouth, or he'll let you spit in his mouth. he probably prefers the latter.

🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡

[dandyshucks]

GUESS WHO GOT ACCEPTED ONTO WELFARE THIS MORNING YAYYYYY

and my counsellor said she's going to get me onto a waitlist for low-income housing in town and i'll have priority over non-indigenous folks bc of my Metis status LETS FUCKING GOOOOO HUGE WIN

i am hoping to come back here relatively soon, but also we're entering the holiday season which is Rough for me so ,,, we shall see LOL. theres my update though! i hope everyones doing okay :]

[tommygotwrittenoff]

i need them to put eddie in a coma so he can have his own little coma dream realization

[hannie-dul-set]

i'm supposed to be studying rn not writing this god damned fic.

[nereidprinc3ss]

be my angel

in which BAU fem!reader was injured on the job, but is refusing painkillers at the hospital. spencer thinks he knows why.

fluff (+a little angst) warnings/tags: established relationship, hospital stuff, reader got beat up by an unsub, discussions of spencer's past addiction, mentions of period cramps, reader ends up being administered some sort of painkiller a/n: another draft i found in my literal hundreds of pages of abandoned wips and fixed up cause it's cute, I hope you like!!!

Spencer is tearing through the hospital. They all keep saying you’re going to be okay, but what does that even mean? Why is nobody telling him anything? He’s not even sure he heard what the orderly at the front desk said, but his feet are carrying him with a strident purpose through the winding white halls, so he has to assume he at least subconsciously knows where he’s going. 

Finally he spots Penelope, a beacon in her candy-colored clothing, speaking to a doctor in hushed tones. Penelope sees him approaching and turns away from the doctor, looking harried and exhausted. 

“Is she okay? What happened?” Spencer demands, before either of the others can say a word. 

“She’s okay,” the doctor assures. “She was beat up pretty bad—concussion, broken ribs, some bruising that looks worse than it is. There was a clean shot through her arm, but—” 

His blood runs cold. Nobody told him you were shot. Why had nobody told him you were shot? 

“I need to see her.” 

The doctor frowns, glancing between the two agents. 

“I’m sorry, are you her spouse?” 

“Yes. No, not yet, I just—I need to see her, please. Now.” 

“Sir, unless she—” 

“Just let him see her!” Penelope practically yells. “She wants him here, believe me.”  

The doctor clenches her jaw and scribbles something on her clipboard. 

“Okay. Maybe you can try to convince her to accept some painkillers.” 

Spencer’s frown deepens. 

“She’s refusing pain management?” 

“We gave her as much ibuprofen as we could, but she refused anything stronger than that. She has to be in a lot of pain right now, and there’s no background of addiction.” 

“I’ll talk to her,” Spencer says, already twisting the silver door handle. He has a sneaking suspicion as to why you denied pain treatment, and it makes him feel incredibly guilty. More than he already did, after this entire debacle. 

The sight of you, bloodied and bruised and obviously suffering has his heart splintering right down the middle. Whatever meager semblance of a smile he can scrounge up and offer is reflected back to him on you—which only makes him feel worse. As always, you’re putting on a brave face. 

“Hey,” Spencer says quietly as he closes the door behind him. 

“Hi,” you croak. “How do I look?” 

He approaches, sitting on the edge of the bed and pushing your hair away from your face. 

“How do you feel? The doctor told me you wouldn’t accept pain medication,” he murmurs. 

You sniff. 

“I feel okay. Did she tell you it’s not as bad as it looks?” 

But your voice is so small, so wavery and weak, that he knows you’re lying. 

“Sweetheart...” 

You’ve been holding it together since the unsub beat you nearly unconscious. You held it together as he ran away, even got a couple shots in before he turned around and returned fire. You held it together while you sat against the dirty truck, bleeding out, not sure if your team was coming, and you held it together in the ambulance, and for the past thirty minutes in this hospital bed. But all it takes is one gentle word from Spencer, with that concerned, solicitous look in his eye, and the floodgates are opening. Tears spring up in your eyes and begin silently falling down your dirtied cheeks. 

“It’s okay!” you attempt to reassure him, affecting cheeriness even through the tears. “It doesn’t hurt. I’m fine!” 

He says your name soft and low and he tries his best to keep his tone even though he is liable to burst into tears or start yelling at someone (not you) at any minute.  

“I know that’s not true. You have broken ribs and a gunshot wound. I know how badly it hurts to breathe and how it feels every time you move your arm. That is too much damage for over-the-counter anti-inflammatories. You need real analgesics.” 

“I don’t,” you whisper. Your teary eyes make his whole body ache. He squeezes your hand—the one that’s not connected to the wounded arm. 

“Because of me?” You stare at him blankly, as if you’re shocked he was able to put two and two together. “I promise you don’t need to worry about that.” 

You sniffle. 

“But what if—what if they give me the drugs and I get all weird and it’s, it’s like... triggering for you, or something?” 

“It’s been a really long time since I’ve worried about that. I’d rather see you a little tired and out of it than in extreme pain and trying to pretend you’re not. You getting the pain relief you need in a medical emergency is not going to make me relapse.” 

“But I really think I could go without,” you begin, voice already tightening around a cry. “I’ve—I’ve had period cramps that were worse than this.” 

Despite himself, he chuckles. Goes back to stroking your hair. 

The laughter fades quickly. All the pain you’re in is so evident in your eyes. The dissociative glassiness, the tension around them, the bloodshot quality—he's seen it many times before, and he hates it on you. 

“Will you please tell them you’re ready to take something? They won’t give you Dilaudid. It’s too strong. They’ll give you something that I’d have no interest in anyway.” 

“Not funny,” you whisper. 

He ignores this. 

“Will you let me call the doctor back in?” 

You take a deep, shuddering breath—or at least, you try to, before you’re loosing a sharp squeak that deteriorates into a little sob. The ribs. 

Spencer doesn’t bother asking again, just gets up and begins to walk away as efficiently as his legs will carry him. You need painkillers and he thinks it might be fastest to just fetch the doctor or a nurse from the hallway. 

“Wait,” you plead.  

He stops. Reminds himself that you need him right now—not his medical opinions. Spencer turns back around and approaches again, crouching by your bedside this time. 

“What, honey?” 

“I don’t...” 

You trail off, overcome by something like fear in the width and shine and nervous dart of your eyes. Spencer knows, everybody at the BAU knows, that showing fear to a serial killer will get you killed that much quicker. During your time alone with the unsub, which is a can of worms Spencer literally cannot psychologically open right now, you had to put on your bravest face. Even while you were being beaten within an inch of your life. Even when you thought you were going to die, alone, and that your team—that Spencer—wasn't coming back for you. Because that’s the kind of thing you have to do to cope when you’re at rock bottom. But you were terrified. Petrified. That doesn’t just go away—and Spencer knows it’ll be bumping against the surface until it finds a way out.  

He has to remember that just because you look unafraid and you act unafraid doesn’t mean you aren’t. 

“You were so brave,” he manages after he’s sure he can say it without incident, swiping moisture from your cheek. “You did everything exactly right.” 

“I know,” you whisper, chin trembling. Spencer knows you, and he knows this kind of trauma well enough to know that you’re thinking, I did everything exactly right, and it wasn’t enough. I did everything exactly right and this is what I have to show for it. 

“But nobody needs you to act like it wasn’t hard, okay? You don’t need to pretend like it doesn’t hurt. You were so, so brave, angel. You don’t have to be brave anymore.” 

Your eyes squeeze shut, sending a new wash of tears over your tacky cheeks. A few moments pass. You say nothing. He hopes you’re not going to hide away inside yourself like he did. 

“Will you please, please, let me get the doctor?” 

At least this time you don’t immediately say no. 

“Will you come right back?” 

“Of course.” 

Finally, you nod your hesitant assent, and Spencer presses a careful kiss to your forehead. 

A few minutes later, the doctor—who was shocked that Spencer was able to so quickly change your very made-up mind—is back, and so is Spencer. It only takes a moment for them to determine the best course of action for you and soon the fist around his heart is loosening its grip as he watches some of the agony melting from your eyes. 

“Better?” he murmurs as the nurse who’d administered the drugs leaves, fanning his thumb over the underside of your wrist. You nod, already appearing sleepy. 

“Can you lie down with me?” 

He smiles at the way your words slip against each other, simply relieved that you’re able to relax and no longer in extreme pain. 

“Hospital beds aren’t rated for two people.” 

“Spencer.” 

It’s enough for him to climb onto the bed—not that he was ever going to deny you what you wanted to begin with. The fit isn’t exactly perfect—he's a bit too long and combined the two of you are just slightly too wide—but with some finagling it’s comfortable enough. Spencer has slipped his arm underneath you and your head is on his shoulder and he’s so glad to have you in his arms and so grateful that you’re okay he does something almost like praying in his head as he kisses your hair. 

“Hey. Ask me about my bruises.” 

“Why? Do they still hurt?” 

“You should see the other guy.” 

It’s dumb and it doesn’t make sense because you didn’t bother waiting for him to actually set the joke up—but he smiles dryly nonetheless. 

“Can you please give me... I don’t know, 36 hours before you start making jokes about almost dying?” 

“Clock starts now.” 

“Thank you.” He feels your lips curve into a half-conscious smile against his neck. It’s a wonderful feeling. “How are your ribs? Breathing feels okay?” 

“Mhm. Love breathing.” 

“Mhm. And your arm?” 

“Like I got shot.” 

“Well, that’s pretty much unavoidable. But not as bad as before, right?” 

“Right. Spencer?” 

“What, my love?” 

A little pleased puff of air warms his shoulder. He carefully rubs your hip. 

“Will you tell me how brave I was again?” 

He takes a silent, very deep breath.  

“You were incredibly brave. And smart, too. I’m really proud of you for how you handled that situation. I’m so sorry you had to go through that, but I don’t think anyone could have handled it better. Especially when you chose to stay put by the truck, instead of chase him. I know that wasn’t what you wanted to do, but it was the right choice.” 

“I thought you guys maybe weren’t coming,” you murmur, no hint of sadness in your smushed, flat voice—like you’re barely awake. “I waited half an hour and I thought you weren’t gonna find me.�� 

“Angel, I will always find you. We didn’t stop looking even once, as soon as we noticed you were gone. I’m just sorry I wasn’t with Emily and Rossi when they got to you.” 

“’Nelope told me... she told me you got really angry and scary.” 

He stares at the ceiling and considers this. 

“I could see... how what I was feeling would be interpreted that way. I was pretty angry. But not at Penelope or any of them. I was mostly just scared.” 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you whisper. “And I’m sorry if I made you mad.” 

“You did not. I wasn’t mad at you. And it’s not your fault that I got scared. You were just trying to do your job. None of this is your fault.” 

“She also said that you said fuck like... three times.” 

“Mm... doesn’t sound like me,” he evades. You giggle, and the sound is more a relief than any drug he could take.

“No, seriously, I’m so mad I missed it. I love hearing you swear. Tell me what you said—and you have to cause I’m all messed up so I get whatever I want.” 

He sighs in mock annoyance. 

“Well, she’s wrong. I only said fuck once. I used fucking as an intensifier twice.” 

You hum. 

“Sexy.” 

“Alright,” Spencer laughs, flushing as he moves his hand to your shoulder. “Go to sleep before I tell them to up your dosage, weirdo.” 

[bunnis-monsters]

i need more abt peacock hybrids I LOVE HIMM

He’s been hanging around your bakery nearly every day since you rejected him, his tail feathers flicking and wanting to present themselves to you… but he stops himself.

He waits, watching you as you serve customers and go about your day. You’re kind, always giving even the nastiest of people a warm smile when you hang them their order.

And now he’s wondering how many of the smiles you have him were fake. Could he blame you? After all, he had been such an asshole, always taking up your time and being demanding…

It was clear you are way out of his league, but still he wants you desperately.

So he continues taking note of every little thing, from the way your eyes light up when you bite into a free donut after a long day, or how you laugh at your stupid male coworker he hates…

He’s in love with you, that’s for certain… but how will he ever win you over when he’s made such a fool of himself? It would have been so easy to just present his feathers in front of a fertile female, but no, he had to fall in love with you…

The peacock hybrid sits outside of the bakery, sulking as he stares at the ground. Perhaps he’d never get to have you. It wasn’t fair to wait around and bother you forever, so he got up and was ready to leave when you walked out the door.

“You’re still out here sulking?”

You walk out, carrying a brown paper bag. He looks up in surprise when you drop the bag in his lap.

“Here…”

You look away, your face slightly warm as you begin walking home. “It’s on the house…”

He stares at the small paper bag in his hand, his eyes wide. Was this… a courting gift?

His feathers flicked as he stood, his mind in a daze as he followed after you.

Maybe he had a chance after all…

It wasn’t long before he walked you home every day after work, acting as a protective mate would when anyone approached. He’d shake his feathers out in a defensive display, keeping you safe.

The best day of his life was when you finally invited him in your home and he got to mate you for the first time…

It was a cold evening, and he had been waiting outside for an hour, ready to walk you home. When you saw him shivering, you knew that he had changed.

Though he could still be selfish and arrogant, it was clear he truly cared for you.

“You’re cold, aren’t you? Come on, I’ll make you something warm.”

But it seemed he didn’t want to eat anything you could make him. No, the second he was in your house you were lifted up onto the nearest surface and your thighs were pried apart. He couldn’t stand it, he needed to taste you…

Your pussy was so plump and warm, the taste almost sweet. He looked up at you with eyes dazed from lust, his tongue fucking into your dripping cunt.

He loved you, wanted to prove he was a proper mate, so he made sure to bring you to several orgasm before he even fathomed pushing his cock into you.

The tip was oozing precum, rubbing against your hole as his feathers shook out. They really were pretty, and his cock stretched you out as he pushed in.

His feathers were soft, and you held onto them as he mated with you, his face burying itself into your neck. This is what he had wanted for so long…

After shooting thick ropes of cum inside of you, he carried you away and made you a comfy nest of blanket and pillows before using his feathers as a cover for you.

“I love you… please, be my mate…”

You yawned, a smile on your face. He looked vulnerable, his plumage puffing out slightly in anticipation.

“Okay…”

His eyes lit up, but he yelped when you plucked one of his feathers. “I’ll take this as my wedding ring…”

And the next day he couldn’t be prouder, seeing you with his feather pinned to your apron.

Want more of this guy? Commission me :3

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko

[imaginedisish]

I'm Not In Love (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

A/N: Okay, so this if my first fic in over a year, and it's also my first Wolverine fic...so please be kind. I'm just getting back into the groove. Expect it to possibly be a little rough. This is big time inspired by "I'm Not In Love" by 10cc. This fic is also thanks to a request I got from an anonymous user! Thanks for the idea, anon! Hope it's okay! Enjoy guys.

Summary: After harboring a crush on Logan for months, things finally come to a head while on an overnight mission.

Warnings: SMUT. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. There's like no plot here just smut, Unprotected PIV sex (wrap it up), Oral (f!receiving), AFAB reader, Sizekink!(this was a specific size kink request, and so the reader is therefore described as being smaller than Logan/his shirt being big on her), cursing, praise kink, OOC!Logan (just putting this out there because I haven't seen the X-Men movies/read X-Men comics in forever and I'm probably giving him terms he doesn't use/having him act in ways he might not typically), feelings, cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan, one bed muahaha, probably grammar errors, think that's it?

Word Count: 3,162 I got carried away

He was driving you absolutely crazy. Logan. Logan fucking Howlett, with his cocksure attitude and self-satisfied smile. Maybe it’s the way he thinks he’s always right. Maybe it’s that stupid stubbornness, that prowl he does when he walks across a room to meet you. To mock you. His whole being towering over you—his musky, pine-scented cologne filling your lungs. He’s everywhere—and not just metaphorically—literally and physically. His giant frame shadows yours, and you can’t help but admit that there’s something about it…something about him. 

You want him. Bad. And although you won’t admit it, you’ve wanted him for months. And so, as of lately, he’s not so much a nuisance as much as he’s a distraction. 

You just had to be sent on this mission with Logan—this ridiculous two-day stake-out that you could have done on your own. You’re certainly strong enough; your telekinetic powers and regenerative abilities are enough to handle any situation. And yet, here you are, walking up to a motel with Logan fucking Howlett. 

His frame practically consumes yours as he stands behind you on the sidewalk. You swear you can feel the ghost of his fingertips against your waist, impatient and ready to guide you forward. You silently wish he would—wish he would grab your hips and take you down that alleyway and—

“You okay, darlin’?” His voice is gruff against the shell of your ear. “You seem awfully distracted.”

You swallow your embarrassment and hope he won’t pick up on how fast your heart is beating. “I’m fine, just tired,” you mutter, lying straight through your teeth. You can feel his smirk against the side of your head. He has to know what he’s doing. He has to know how much you want him. 

He chuckles and his chest vibrates against your back. “Too tired for the mission, bub? We’re almost at the motel, don’t worry.” The condescension in his voice is palpable. He knows exactly how to get under your skin. You’re putty in his hands. 

He steps out from behind you, and before you can mourn the loss of the contact, he grabs your hand and leads the way through the doors of the motel. “This okay?” He whispers in your ear, his massive hand giving your smaller one a squeeze. All you can manage is a nod as you approach the front desk. You know it’s just to support your cover—you and Logan are posing as a married couple—but you can’t help but hope it means more. You need it to mean more. 

God, you are so fucked. 

You’re so distracted thinking about how close Logan is to you that you almost miss the moment when the worker at the front desk says the only room left has just one bed. 

You crane your head to look up at Logan, who you find is already looking down at you. 

“That’s perfect,” he says, his eyes still on you. His stare doesn’t budge as the man behind the front desk slides the key towards the two of you. Logan grabs the keys and finally breaks the moment. His hand is still holding yours as he navigates the two of you toward your motel room. 

The room is…small. There’s one queen bed in the center, a bathroom on the other side of the room, and an old box television resting on an even older-looking oak dresser. On the bright side, the place appears to be clean. 

“I should freshen up,” you say, taking off your shoes. Your hand slips out of Logan’s as you pad over to the bathroom with your bag. 

The bathroom isn’t horrible either. Dated, but clean. You brush your teeth and wash your face before undressing and searching for your pajamas in your bag—which, naturally, you forgot to pack. 

“Ah fuck,” You mutter louder than you meant to. 

You hear Logan stirring in the other room, his footsteps quickly approaching the door. “You okay?” You can sense the concern in his voice, and you can’t help but smile. 

“Yeah, just forgot to pack something to wear to bed.” There’s more shuffling on the other side of the door. You hear Logan’s bag zip. 

“You want my shirt?” He asks, standing just outside the door now. 

“I’d feel bad, then you—” Your protests are ignored as he opens the door just enough to toss his Calgary Flames t-shirt onto the bathroom sink, closing it tightly once the shirt lands. You smirk as you walk over to the shirt and put it on. The hem lands at the middle of your thighs. Logan really is massive, you think to yourself. 

You take a deep breath, slowly twist the knob of the bathroom door, and head outside. Logan is lounging on the chair next to the dresser, his eyes on you as you place your bag down on the floor at the foot of the bed. 

“Th-thanks for the…” You stutter, trailing off as you nod down to the shirt. 

Logan smirks as he pushes himself out of the chair and makes his way toward you. You think you see him take you in, look you up and down, but that can’t possibly be.

He shakes his head as he stops at your side. You swear you hear him mutter a low fuck under his breath. “You look good.” But he doesn’t stop for long. He pushes forward and into the bathroom. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he mumbles as he shuts the door behind him. 

“Let’s just share the bed,” you shout back, unsure of where the confidence to say that came from. But there’s no response, just the running of water from the sink. 

You sit on the edge of the bed, waiting for what feels like forever, but Logan doesn’t take long at all. After a few minutes, you hear the sink shut off and the door creek open. 

You shake your head as you stand from the bed to face him. “By the way, you’re not sleeping on the floor, don’t be ridic—” You’re too stunned to say another word. You’ve seen Logan shirtless before, sure, but not like this. Not in just his boxers. Not in a room with him, alone, for an entire night. You need to relax, to calm down, but there’s nowhere else to go, and nothing else to look at. You know he can your heart beating out of your chest now. 

 He steps toward you, engulfing you with his presence. You stare up at him. “Am I really that scary?” He closes the distance between the two of you. 

You try to play dumb. “W-what are you talking about?”

“Every time I get close to you, that little heart of yours practically explodes.”

You swallow roughly. “I d-don’t know what you’re talking about, Logan.” But your shaky voice gives it away. You know exactly what he means. 

His arms snake around your waist, resting on your lower back. “Yeah, you do, darlin’,” he says. “You afraid of me or something?” God he is so fucking cocky, you think to yourself. 

“’M’not afraid of you,” you whisper. “Could never be afraid of you.” 

He smiles and walks you to the edge of the bed, your knees threatening to buckle under the pressure. “What is it then, hm? You like how big I am? That it?” Your eyes frantically search his face for some sort of excuse, some sort of denial. But he can read you like a book. “Yeah, I think that’s it.” He’s towering over you, caging you in. 

“It’s more than that,” you admit. 

He cocks his head to the side. “Oh yeah? What?” He won’t let that be enough—you know he won’t. He’ll tease it out of you. His presence is dizzying and distracting. You’re not even sure you can form another complete sentence. 

“I-it’s just you,” you finally choke out. 

But it’s not enough for him. “What about me?”

Everything, you want to say. You want to tell him how you feel. “Logan, I…” But you can’t. I’m not in love, that’s what you’ve been trying to convince yourself of for months.  

“Go on, say it. What’s got you going?” He tightens his grip around your waist, his thumbs rubbing gently along your back. He leans down, his lips brushing against your forehead. “Use your words, sweetheart.” 

Your eyes flutter shut, and you take a deep breath. He’s everything and he’s everywhere. He’s in your head and in your hands. You can smell the musk and the pine and a hint of mint and that extra thing that is just distinctly him. He’s warm and his breath ever-so-lightly tickles your ear as his forehead rests against yours. 

And then finally, it comes out.

“I want you, Lo.”

You open your eyes and immediately notice the change in his expression. That cocky grin is gone. He isn’t teasing anymore. This is something else. Want. No, stronger than that. Desire. Adoration. Longing. Like those four words undid something in him. Untangled some knot that had been there for far too long. Almost like he thought you maybe wouldn’t want this. That maybe someone wouldn’t want him. 

So, you say it again. “I want you, Logan.” 

He shuts his eyes. “Fuck.” 

And then he’s pushing you down onto the mattress. His lips find their way to yours, crashing like the world is about to end. You can feel his hunger, his desperation. He rests one hand next to your head for balance and slips his free hand underneath the shirt he lent you. He’s exploring the curves of your body, the dips and turns, eventually pulling the shirt up and over your head. 

He comes up for air as his fingers play with the clasp of your bra. You watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “This okay?” He asks, waiting for your approval. You nod and the hooks are immediately undone. You arch your back so he can slip the bra off. “Fuck, pretty girl,” he mumbles. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” 

His hands find their way to your chest, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, teasing you, pinching lightly. 

“Lo, please. Need you,” is all you can say. 

He trails a line of kisses down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, the center of your chest, his mouth traveling achingly slowly until finally landing on one of your tits. He kisses your nipple before taking it into his mouth, biting lightly and licking the hurt away. 

“Please,” you beg again. 

He comes up for a moment. “Please what?” He asks before moving on to the other side. 

“Need you so bad,” You whimper. But he doesn’t stop. “N-need you to touch me.”

He pauses again. “Think I’m already doing that, darlin’. Gonna have to be more specific.” 

“Fuck me, please.”  

He shakes his head. “Wanna make you feel good first, pretty girl.” 

You sit up a bit, ready to protest. “But you are. You’re making me feel so—” You’re cut off by the sight of him staring up at you as he trails kisses down your stomach, stopping at the top of your panties. He grabs your hips and pushes you further into the center of the bed. His fingers slip under the hem of your panties, waiting for your approval. You nod, and he practically tears them right off you. 

Logan kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly charting a path toward your core, his thumb tracing circles on the other thigh. You’re already squirming under his touch. “Lo,” You whimper. “Please—Fuck!” Without warning, his tongue licks a long stripe up your folds to your clit. His lips lock around it, sucking softly, his fingers suddenly teasing your entrance before slipping a finger inside.

“So tight darlin’. Gonna feel so good,” he mumbles against you, the vibrations of his deep voice sending a jolt up your spine. 

He’s taking his time, tasting you, savoring you. His tongue laps at your cunt, licking slow circles as his finger pumps in and out. You need more.

“Lo,” You call out, your back arching in pleasure. But he doesn’t answer. He keeps going as if he’s gotten lost in you, as if there’s nothing that can possibly be said to bring him back. “Lo, please,” you moan again. 

He chuckles against your core. “Please what, pretty girl?” He mumbles. You can feel his smirk against you.

“M-more,” you beg. You can feel his smirk grow wider as his motions stall. “No don’t stop, please don’t stop.” 

He looks up at you, his finger buried deep inside your cunt, his lips just inches from your clit. “Wanna take my time with you, darlin’.”

“Y-you c-can,” You stutter. “W-whatever you want. Just need more.”

“More?” He repeats, arrogantly tilting his head. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight. 

“Yes, please.” But you know by the look in his eyes that you’re getting more than you bargained for. 

He adds another finger, pumping in and out faster than before. His lips latch onto your clit, sucking roughly. It’s overwhelming, and you know he isn’t going to let up. His tongue draws circles around your core, flicking harshly before ruthlessly sucking again. You can feel a third finger prodding your entrance before slipping in and stretching you out. 

“This what you wanted?” He teases.

“Lo, I—” It’s too much, you can’t speak. 

“I’ve got you darlin’. I’m right here. You’re doing so good for me.” His words by themselves practically send you over the edge. 

“’M’so close Logan,” You whimper, spurring him on. His pace quickens; his circles become harder. You can feel your walls tightening around his fingers. 

“I know, pretty girl. Wanna feel you come on my fingers. Can you do that for me?” 

You can’t even speak anymore. All you can manage is a hum that passes for an affirmative. He pumps in and out of you, still alternating between sucking your clit and circling it with his tongue. 

“Look so beautiful like this darlin’. So fucking beautiful,” He husks. And that’s all it takes to make that liquid heat, that tension building in the bottom of your stomach, cut like a knife, pouring out of you. Your vision blurs as you let yourself go. You chant his name like it’s a prayer, a spell, something otherworldly. He finally slows down, letting you ride out your orgasm. 

He pulls out and away from you, crawling up your body so that he’s on top of you. He’s absolutely huge; his arms rest next to your head, caging you in. “You alright sweetheart?” He asks, one hand coming up to cup your cheek as he presses a chaste kiss against your forehead. 

“Hm,” You hum. “Like you like this.”

There’s that cocky smirk again. “Like what?”

“O-on top of me,” You admit freely now. Your arms come up to wrap around his shoulders, but he quickly pins them above your head.

He smiles widely, his forehead coming down to rest on yours. You can feel his erection press against your core through his boxers. And—fuck—he’s big. “Gonna fuck you like this then, okay pretty girl?”

“P-please,” you stutter. 

He sits up, pulling his boxers down, revealing just how big he is. You swallow harshly, sitting up and watching as he casts his boxers to the side. He doesn’t let you watch for long. He pins you down again, one hand keeping your hands above your head and supporting his weight, while the other guides his cock to your entrance. His slides against your folds before slowly sinking inside you. You can’t help but arch your back to meet his chest. 

Everything is slow. He’s taking his time again, letting himself feel every inch of you, giving you the chance to adjust to the size of him. His free hand reaches in between your bodies and finds your clit, drawing slow, gentle circles. 

His forehead rests against yours as he thrusts into you. “Wanted this for so long,” he confesses, his thrusts growing faster. “Always wanted you, darlin’.” You can feel your heart burst in your chest as his lips meet yours. You can feel his hunger, his desire. 

“Wanted you too,” You whisper against his lips between kisses. 

His cock rubs against your walls, hitting that sweet spot every single time. He’s massive, stretching you out with each pump. He builds speed, his thrusts growing rougher as his fingers circle your clit faster. 

He whispers praises in your ear. “You feel so good, pretty girl. So fucking tight. Need you, darlin’. Always.” 

Always. 

It’s all too much. The words, the vulnerability, the feeling of him rutting into you with no end in sight. The promise of something else, something more. 

“Logan, I’m gonna…” You trail off, your walls tightening around him. It’s all so overwhelming. But if you’re being honest, you never want it to end. This. This feeling. Him inside you. Him around you. 

He curses under his breath, his thrusts becoming sloppier and faster as he chases his orgasm. “I know darlin’. Wanna feel you come on my cock.” He keeps his fingers steady on your clit, circling roughly, chasing your orgasm too. 

“Lo,” You mumble. “It’s so good. Y-you’re so good, so b-beautiful.” You’re a bumbling mess, but you want him to feel good too, to know what he’s doing to you, to know that he deserves this. Deserves to be wanted. 

You feel wetness on his cheeks as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. “Always wanted you,” he whispers again against the shell of your ear. “Always gonna want you.” 

The tension snaps, and you feel blaring white heat ripple through your body. Logan somehow buries himself deeper inside you as you come, your walls squeezing him tighter. 

“F-fuck,” he groans. “Where do you want—”

You cut him off this time. “Inside, please,” you pant. “Safe.” He curses under his breath and calls out your name as he fills you up. 

“So perfect,” he whispers. “So fucking perfect.”

His thrusts slow down as he finishes, and he slowly pulls out of you. But he doesn’t pull away. He keeps you close, moving you both towards the headboard. It takes a minute, but he manages to keep you close to his chest as he undoes the covers and gets you both inside them. 

Logan holds you tightly, peppering kisses against your temples every now and then. 

He’s the first to speak. “When I said always…” He trails off. You brace yourself for the worst. It was just the heat of the moment, bub. ‘M’sorry I said it. This shouldn’t happen again. It was a one-time thing and I—

“I meant it.”

You look up at him, eyes wide. He smiles. But it’s not that cocky smile, not that self-satisfied shit-eating grin. It’s that other thing again. Longing. 

“I meant it, too.” 

tags: @cypherpt5fttaehyung

[phielows]

Bruce being a pretty face that he is, would of course gain lots of attention. Besides having tons and loads of money and having a surname known in the entirety of Gotham.

Every event and gala that he'd casually walk in, there's already maybe 2-3 people hovering over him, trying to swoon him over and seduce him.

maybe about 2 meters away, 4 people are already eyeing him. Seeing how they'd win him over, how they would capture their prey.

Meanwhile at the manor, the Wayne kids are the ones who have to deal with the bombardment that these suitors are doing towards their father.

Dick: Okay so some weird mf just sent a whole ass bouquet in front of the manor's gates...

Jason: Yeah lemme guess is it carnations?

Dick: no, it's peonies.

Jason: Oh okay, so that's fron that one CEO from the outskirts of Gotham.

Dick: Wait you got them all memorized?

Tim: well I mean yeah, some of us here even got some bet going on from how long will it take for each and everyone of then to stop sending shit.

Duke: no kidding tho, some fucker decided to drove a whole ass drone with it carrying a package and before it could even reach the boundary of the manor, i exploded it to pieces.

Steph: one time I thought i was gonna be cornered while i was going home, but then turns out it wss one of them suitors, asking me to give Bruce his gifts. I just nodded, he went away then I threw the whole thing to the trash bin.

Cass: A car stopped in front of me on my way home and it even gave me a lift. Then before I could got off of the car, the guy beside me asked if I could give Bruce the perfume he has sent for him. I gave it to the homeless man.

Dick: Why would you, a trained assissin and a vigilante would just randomly accept an offer from a stranger????

Cass: my legs are tired from walking.

Dick: ??????EVEN CHILDREN KNEW BETTER THAN ACCEPTING A STRANGER'S OFFER?

_________________________

Meanwhile

Damian whispering while observing the surroundings: You got the thing?

Clark: Yeah got it here. (Hands over Krypto)

Damian, trying not to coo on the spot: okay. So, all I need to do is convince Father,right? Saturday night, at the daily planet tower, 10 pm sharp?

Clark: Yep! And could you hand him over this? (Hands over a little gift)

Damian: you need an added payment.

Clark: fine, 2 week visits to the farm, with free access to every animals.

Damian: deal. I'll make sure Father won't be able to resist this. Pleasure doing business with you.

[mssorceressupreme]

Safe With You | K.D.H

———

Pairing: Kang Dae-Ho x reader

Summary: Dae-Ho protects you from bullies <33

Warnings: shy!reader, bullying, protective!daeho, he's so fit ughhh #needthat

———

The tense atmosphere in the room was suffocating, the air thick with tension and unspoken threats. You kept to the edges of the group, hoping to remain invisible. It wasn’t a new feeling—you’d always been the quiet one, preferring to observe rather than engage. Here, in this cruel game, where alliances could mean survival, your shyness felt like a curse.

You pulled your knees to your chest, sitting on the cold floor as the other players talked, schemed, and argued. The sheer chaos of their energy intimidated you. The louder voices, the ones who barked orders or jeered at others, made you feel small. Invisible was safer, or so you thought.

Then came the mocking.

Thanos was the first to notice you sitting there, quiet and still, avoiding eye contact. He nudged Nam-gyu with his elbow, smirking. “Hey, look at her,” he said, his voice carrying across the room. “Little Miss Shy over there. What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

You glanced up, startled, but quickly looked away, hoping they’d lose interest. But Thanos was like a shark scenting blood.

“Aw, she’s cute,” Thanos chimed in, his tone dripping with mockery. “Too pretty to talk to us, huh? Or maybe she’s just too good for the likes of us.”

They both laughed, and you felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment. You tried to focus on the floor, to shrink into yourself, but Thanos crouched down in front of you, leaning in too close.

“Why so quiet?” he asked, his tone teasing but his eyes sharp. “Come on, say something.” He began stroking your cheek, brushing a strand of hair out your face.

“Please stop,” you whispered, your voice barely audible while you looked down.

Thanos chuckled, leaning closer. “Oh, she does talk. Maybe we should make her talk a little more.”

Namgyu reached out, poking your cheek playfully. You flinched, jerking back, and their laughter grew louder. “Don’t be like that,” Namgyu said, his grin widening. “We’re just having a little fun.”

You stood up quickly, your heart racing. “I said stop,” you said, louder this time, though your voice still wavered.

Thanos grabbed your wrist, his grip firm. “Don’t be so uptight. We’re just getting to know each other." His grip grew harsher, "Form an alliance and much more..." He cooed.

“Let go of her.”

The voice that interrupted was calm but commanding. Dae-ho stepped between you and the two bullies, his expression cold and dangerous. “You heard me,” he said, his gaze locking onto Thanos. “Let her go.”

"Relax man, she'll probably want to be in bed with me by tomorrow." Thanos smirked.

Dae-ho, grabbed Thanos by the collar harshly, lifting him slightly-off the ground, though still holding on to your wrist, "Don't make me ask you again."

Thanos hesitated for a moment, then scoffed, releasing your wrist with a sneer. “Chill, bro. We were just messing around.”

Dae-ho responded by releasing Thanos, his focus shifting to you. “You okay?” he asked, his voice softening.

You nodded shakily, rubbing your wrist. “Thank you,” you murmured.

Thanos muttered something under his breath, but Dae-ho shot him a glare that silenced him immediately. “Leave her alone,” he said, his tone final.

The two bullies slinked off, muttering complaints, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. Dae-ho turned to you, his expression still serious. “Stick with me,” hi voice soft. “They won’t bother you again.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you. “Can I?” you asked hesitantly. “I mean… can I stay with you? I don’t… I don’t feel safe alone.”

His expression softened further, and he nodded. “Of course. I’ll look out for you.”

Something in his voice, a quiet sincerity, made you believe him. He wasn’t just saying it; he meant it. You felt a strange sense of safety settle over you, like a fragile bubble that only he could create.

Dae-ho introduced you to his group, a small but tightly-knit circle of players who welcomed you warmly. They were kind, in stark contrast to the harshness of the others, and you found yourself slowly relaxing in their presence. But it was Dae-ho you felt most drawn to.

He stayed close to you, checking in often, making sure you had enough to eat or drink. His protective nature made your heart ache in a way you hadn’t expected. You found yourself watching him, memorising the way his hair fell over his eyes when he leaned in to talk, or the way his lips curved into a soft smile when he reassured you.

And he seemed to feel the same pull. He caught your gaze often, holding it a moment longer than necessary, his eyes warm and gentle. When you laughed—rare as it was—his expression would brighten, as though you’d given him a gift.

One night, as the group settled down to rest, you found yourself sitting next to him on his bunk bed, the quiet stretching between you. “Thank you,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

He looked at you, his brows furrowing slightly. “For what?”

“For stepping in,” you said, meeting his warm chocolate eyes. “For… everything. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

He smiled, small but genuine. “You don’t have to thank me. I couldn’t just stand by and let them treat you like that.”

You hesitated, then added, “I feel… safe with you.”

His eyes glistened with a mix of pride and adoration, and for a moment, you thought he might say something more. But he only nodded, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your heart race, glancing from your eyes to your lips. “Good,” he said. “Because I’ll make sure you stay safe. Always.”

The quiet promise in his words made your cheeks flush, and you looked away, your heart fluttering in a way you couldn’t quite explain. You finally felt like you weren’t alone, and you hoped, that this, your newfound friendship with Dae-ho would blossom into something more.

[you-have-a-metal-arm]

JAMES?

pairing : Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count : 1.2k

Warnings : Just general fluff

Summary : When you call Bucky “James”—a name no one else dares to use—he reveals to a stunned Steve and Sam.

Authors Note : Hey y’all i’m back!!! Enjoy this fic 🙈

You stood quietly in the doorway, arms crossed as you watched him. His hair was damp with sweat, clinging to his temples, and his jaw was set in that stubborn way it always was when he refused to admit he was hurting. You let out a soft sigh. You hated seeing him like this—so hard on himself, so weighed down by things he didn’t deserve to carry.

He didn’t notice you at first, too lost in his own storm. But you stepped forward, not hesitating for a second.

“James.”

Your voice cut through the room like a blade, soft yet sharp enough to reach him. The sound made him freeze mid-punch, his metal fist stopping inches from the bag. His head turned slowly, his stormy blue eyes locking onto yours. And in an instant, the tension in his shoulders melted. His gaze softened in a way that made your heart ache, because you knew—you knew—no one else ever got to see him like this.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice rough from exertion but laced with something warmer. Something vulnerable.

Steve, halfway through a set of sit-ups in the corner, dropped to the floor in disbelief. “Wait—what?”

Sam, leaning lazily against the wall with a water bottle in hand, nearly spit out his drink. “Hold the hell up,” he said, straightening. “Did she just call you James?”

Steve sat up fully now, wiping his forehead with his shirt and glaring at Bucky like he’d just witnessed a miracle. “She did. And—” his voice faltered as he pointed a finger at Bucky, “—you’re okay with it?”

Bucky glanced at Steve, then at Sam, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. But when he looked back at you, something in his expression shifted. He shrugged, completely unbothered. “Yeah. So?”

Sam’s jaw practically hit the floor. “So? You nearly ripped my arm off when I tried calling you that one time!”

Steve nodded furiously. “He’s not exaggerating. You said, and I quote, ‘Don’t ever call me that again unless you want to find out how fast I can break your jaw.’”

“Exactly!” Sam threw his hands up. “And now she just waltzes in here, says James like it’s nothing, and you’re—what? Cool with it?”

Bucky’s gaze hardened, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. “She’s not you.”

“Oh, no, we get that,” Sam said sarcastically. “But why the hell is she the exception?”

Bucky didn’t answer right away. His hand flexed at his side—flesh and metal both—but his focus stayed on you, his eyes tracing the curve of your face as if grounding himself. Finally, he said, quietly but with conviction, “Because she’s mine.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Steve and Sam exchanged a look—a mixture of shock, disbelief, and maybe even a little amusement—but neither of them dared to speak.

You, however, raised an eyebrow, lips twitching as you fought back a smile. “Yours, huh?”

Bucky’s ears turned a faint shade of pink, but he didn’t back down. His gaze was steady, unwavering. “Yeah. Mine.”

“God,” Sam muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “This is so disgustingly soft, I think I’m gonna puke.”

“Agreed,” Steve said, though there was a small, knowing smile on his face as he stood up. “You two can have your… moment. We’ll leave.”

As the door closed behind them, you turned back to Bucky, who was already watching you like you were the only thing that mattered. His expression had softened completely now, the rough edges smoothed out into something raw, something real.

“James,” you said again, stepping closer, and you saw the way his shoulders relaxed, the way his lips parted slightly like he needed to hear it just one more time.

“Yeah?” he murmured, his voice quieter now.

“You’ve been at this for hours,” you said softly, reaching up to brush a strand of damp hair away from his face. “Come take a break.”

He hesitated, his eyes scanning your face like he was searching for something. “I just… I didn’t want to bother you. I needed to work it out.”

“James,” you said, firmer this time, and his breath hitched like the sound of his name from your lips alone was enough to shake him. “You don’t have to do this alone. Not anymore.”

His chest rose and fell with a deep breath, and his hand—metal and warm and steady—reached up to wrap around yours. He held it there, against his cheek, like he was afraid you might pull away. “It’s not just the name,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible. “When you say it… it’s different. It feels… good.”

Your heart swelled, and you gave him a small, reassuring smile. “That’s because I love you, James. All of you. Even the parts you don’t think are worth loving.”

His eyes closed briefly, and when he opened them again, they were glassy, like he was fighting to keep the emotions at bay. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Stop it,” you said gently, stepping closer until your foreheads touched. “You deserve everything. And I’m not going anywhere.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. He just held you there, close, his arms wrapping around your waist like you were the only thing anchoring him to the world. And maybe, in some ways, you were.

“Say it again,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly.

“James,” you murmured, brushing your nose against his. “You’re safe with me. Always.”

A soft, broken laugh escaped him, and he pulled you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “You’re all I’ve got,” he whispered, his voice muffled but full of emotion. “And you’re all I need.”

You held him there, running your fingers through his hair, and for the first time in a long time, he let himself just be. Vulnerable. Loved. Yours.

Thanks for reading 😁

[witherby]

Continuation of the biting baby, y/n as a toddler somehow developed the habit of headbutting people in the gut but not bruce. He still gets bit but aye, he's not alone anymore lmao

(Baby has to be put in air jail almost everyday buy the moment they're out they headbutt the person who placed them in air jail as hard as possible)

(Also just in case people doesn't know what air jail is,u just hold the baby/animal In the air with ur hand)

A pattern is forming. I think you all want Mouse to be a violent baby.

Including me, so —

The Littlest Wayne: Air Jail

"AHH! SHI-AHhhghh sugarhoneyicetea..."

Bruce lifts his eyes from his newspaper and looks at the couch, waiting for the inevitable. Like clockwork a pair of hands shoot into the air, with you as prisoner, and you start complaining and windmilling your limbs. The hands holding you are encased in leather; Jason must have been the victim then.

"Mousey, I'm workin' with two broken ribs and a concussion," the man complains, jostling you for emphasis. You squeal, giggling. "You cannot keep running into me with that thick little noggin at full speed. I felt a third rib crack upon impact. You're killing me. You're killing your brother. I'm gonna die again."

"Wanna!" You insist, back to windmilling. "Down! Jay-Jay, down!"

"No down. You get Air Jail 'till you say sorry and promise not to headbutt me again."

"I sowwy..." You whine, jutting your bottom lip out for emphasis. "Down, p'ease."

"Jesus Christ, the puppy dog eyes are lethal. I — ugh. You gotta say you won't headbutt me anymore. No more headbutt, okay?"

Your eyes start to water. Bruce watches you sink back down, vanishing behind the back of the couch, and snorts into his paper. He lets out a full laugh when Jason cries out a minute later. You've struck again.

"WE HAD A DEAL. Get over here, you're going back to Air Jail."

You shriek with delight, toddling away as fast as your chubby legs will allow. Jason, as injured as he is, actually can't catch up to you before you spot your dad and make the motion for Uppies.

"Daddy!" You cry. Bruce sets the paper aside and scoops you up.

"Are you being naughty?" He asks. You grin and hide your face in his shoulder. "Uh oh. Maybe I'll let Jay put you back in Air Jail — OW?"

He winces and your peals of laughter ring right next to his head. You open your mouth to bite him again, but he's the one to lift you into the air this time. "Daddy! Down!"

"I'm calling the police," Bruce deadpans, dropping into the Batman Voice. "Your rampant string of crime has gone unchecked for too long. Victims are piling up left and right. You've headbutt all your brothers this week, and Uncle Hal, and Titus. How Grandpa is escaping your tyranny is a mystery, but it's time to turn you over to the law."

"No powice, daddy!"

"Yes powice, child."

Bruce stands up and carries you into the day room, lowering you down into an extra tall play pen.

"Time out for five minutes."

You pout and cross your tiny arms, glaring at the ground.

"Don't wike, daddy. Want out."

"Yeah, well Daddy doesn't like getting bitten like a cookie, and your brothers don't like taking your skull to their bodies at high speeds. We want our skin free from bruises and teeth marks."

"Ha-ha," Jason teases from the doorway, pointing at you. "Get got, criminal!"

Your pouting intensifies. You reach out to Jason and make small whining noises.

"Want out. Want Jay-Jay, p'ease! Jay-Jay!"

The smug little smirk fades from Jason quick, turning into something fond and pitying.

"....I mean...c'mon, B, they're three. Five whole minutes?"

Bruce rolls his eyes. "This is why we haven't been able to curb this behavior yet. You can't fall for big eyes and a please every time —"

You hitch a little sob, and like a wet paper bag, Bruce folds.

"Maybe I'm being a tad harsh. They're three years old..."

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Hello! Can I plz request Alastor x Doe! Reader where he meets Charlie's best friend who's the reader and becomes possessive over her, maybe his instincts tell him to mark the reader as his mate. The reader is a white doe. :)

Yessss i love this idea teehee i maybe got carried away and also i unintentionally made this sort gender neutral and a teeny tiny speck of smut, i hope that’s okay if not it’s at the very end so it’s skipable, hopefully i did your idea justice and hope you enjoy!! thank you so much for this xx

At first sight

PART TWO PART THREE

Word count: 3.5K

Warnings: SMUT 18+, doe reader only describes white ears tail and pink nose rest is ambiguous, possibly corny ahh dialogue, love at first sight kinda trope, angel/hellborn reader, slightly OOC Al y’know smut love, reader cooks, biting & briefly blood, penetrative sex, reader makes deal with al to give themselves to him, swearing, NOT PROOFREAD I think that’s it lmk if i missed anything!!

Charlie ran manically around the hotel, fixing various things and studying the entire building under a microscope to ensure it looked its best. Zipping her way to the lobby, she caught the gaze of Angel Dust, who was in the middle of sucking down a frozen popsicle.

“Be nice today! Look your best, oh oh! No porn on the TV!” Charlie shouted rushed and frazzled as she came up beside Angel to fluff out the couch cushions. Husk watched silently ears zeroed in on the conversation unwillingly, focusing mainly on Angel. “Geez toots, what’s got your feathers in a bunch?”

Angel smiled amused by Charlies odd demeanour. “My best friend since, like, forever is coming here today! To see the hotel!” Charlie exclaimed lurching forward to grip Angels shoulders. Smirking at her Angel continued to suck on the popsicle. “So what, is this broad special or something?”

Charlie leaned back pulling her hands down her face, an exasperated groan crawling out from her throat. “Yes! Her mother was friends with my mom when they first came to hell, her mom ended up falling for a hell spawn and we born around the same time,” Charlie explained ringing her hands while pacing.

“She’s my best friend we grew up together, i’m worried she won’t like what i’m doing here.” Charlie finally confessed with a sigh, her body deflating as she herself came to terms with the fact she was afraid. Vaggie lingering in the background finally approached Charlie sticking her hand out to message her arm comfortingly. “I’m sure it’ll be fine toots! Plus she’s a born sinner! Ain’t no way anything here’s gonna be shocking her.”

Despite her worry she could admit Angel Dust was right, AND you’re her best friend there’s no way you’d be unnecessarily cruel to her dreams, you were always supportive and imaginative along with her. Smiling down at Angel, Charlie then plopped down beside him, resting her hooves after hours of hecticily running around. “You’re right Angel, thank you.” Angel hummed out an arrogant ‘you’re welcome’ while Vaggie circled the couch leaning over the back of it.

“So how long has it been since you’ve seen them?” Vaggie asked poking Charlie’s cheek. Looking away she counted on her fingers before turning to look at Vaggie. “Four years, they stayed with me while I tried getting over the absence of my mom; they live in wrath though and eventually went back.” Clapping her hands Charlie stood from the couch her brief moment of hoof rest over, the three sinners watching as she muttered to herself about everyone being on their best behaviour while walking off, clearly the talk only did a little to hush her nerves.

~

Standing outside the hotel doors your ears twitched at the sounds coming from beyond it, it’s clear as day that Charlie was instructing people to behave, be nice, and- not show you porn? Suddenly the door opened startling you slightly but that quickly wore off when you were greeted by the joyous face of your best friend Charlie. Tugging you into a bear hug, Charlie squealed about how excited she was, you naturally fell into her giving her a warm tight hug right back.

“I am so glad you’re here! I’m so happy to see you!” Charlie exclaimed pulling back and examining you. You hadnt seemed to change much to Charlie, the white tail you had wagged behind you happily, your equally platinum ears relaxed occasionally twitching at the sounds around you, your pink deer like nose that was perfectly contrasted with your skin colour.

It was clear you were half an angel, and Charlie lemented, when you two were younger, that she was jealous you had a more animalisitc appearance in comparison to her, but you reminded her that it didn’t matter because she was still as gorgeous as ever. “I’m so glad to be here! I was starting to think you’d never end up inviting me.” You laugh warmly.

Charlie beckoned you inside linking your arms together, the two of you walked inside. Vaggie was punctuated and ready to great you as you came further into the room. “Hi, I’m Vaggie-“ Vaggie was cut off promptly by Charlie who excitedly pulled her into a bear hug, cheek to cheek. “My girlfriend!” Charlie finished with a shout.

Your ivory tail flicked behind you happily as you grinned. “Holy shit! You’ve got a girlfriend? Damn we really need to catch up! Its so nice to meet you Vaggie.” You smile shaking her hand as she stuck it out, Vaggie only nodded smiling seemingly quite reserved.

After some rushed introduction of those around the room including Husk, Angel, Nifty, and Sir Pentious, Charlie took you to your room to settle in. Closing the door behind the two of you Charlie watched as you laid your suit cases down by the bed, unzipping them and pulling out your clothing. “Sooo,” Charlie trailed hands tucked behind her back as she wandered around the vacant room.

“You remember Alastor right? The radio demon?” Charlie questioned, sounding suspicious. Looking up from your folded laundry you quirked a brow fearing where this might be heading. “Yes… i do.” You say slowly, fixing your posture waiting for her to turn to you, but she seemed rather interested in the wallpaper. “Well… y’know… this hotel takes a lot…. and when i first started…” Charlie trailed off gazing out the open window, stepping towards her you carefully placed a hand on her shoulder.

Looking at you she knew there was no sense in keeping such a prominent part of the reason this hotel was possible secret. “Alastors here, he helped since the start. He hasn’t asked for anything in return and he’s already fought for us!” Charlie spat the words out so fast you barely had time to comprehend. You and her were raised around each other meaning you had the same interactions with many of the princes’, sins, and hellborn, but human overlords were always were more…. well they weren’t used to power and immortality so they often over did it, Alastor was no different from what you were aware of.

“Are you sure having him is a good idea? Does your dad know?” Charlie nodded confirming her dad did know. “Yeah he doesn’t know who Al is, and to be fair none of us did! I promise he’s not that bad. Give him a chance?” You hummed looking away as she looked to you, you didn’t want to upset her by the discomfort that would be evident in your eyes. You didn’t enjoy brawls and fights, and you fear the demon would initiate that.

“Well i suppose i could trust him if you do, but i am skeptical; you’re always seeing the light in demons, even when it’s not there.” You laughed out recalling some things of the past that ended poorly because of a Charlie’s trust in certain sinners. And though at times foolish it was still an admirable trait and you aspired to be as kind hearted as she could be. “Where’s the guy anyways?” You asked after a short moment of pondering.

Charlie shrugged looking as if she was trying to recount the day. “Well he did say he had a meeting with Rosie,” She muttered quietly, although you didn’t know who Rosie was, you didn’t bother questioning it instead you pat Charlie on the shoulder, telling her that you’d like to get some rest, and you’d worry about Alastor later.

And so you spent a bit of time unpacking your things and settling down, you always preferred to be more in touch with the animalistic parts of yourself so your belongings held a lot of earthy aesthetics to them. Sitting on your bed, stripped of the hotels sheets and remade with your own, you opened your laptop and began typing.

You had forgotten about Alastor for the most part but you remember Charlie brining it up as he began his tyranny after his death. Charlie had always been pretty involved with her people, mainly focusing her energy on human sinner so you weren’t surprised that she knew of him, you were however surprised she was so willing to let him in when he massacred her people.

After a few minutes of light research about the demon, you established with how long he was gone perhaps he would be willing to change however you’d keep up your guards just to be sure.

~

Humming to himself Alastor got ready for the day, though he rarely slept he did occasionally get into evening outfits if he was staying in. He fixed his hair, ensuring not a hair was out of place and with a finally dust of his sleeves, he materialized his microphone and trotted his way out of his room.

A new scent hit him the minute he got to the staircase, the reaction was instantaneous, his ears perked, his tail stiffened thank the hellions no one was around to witness his discomfort, because it was evident. Fixing his posture, and his smile, he pretended nothing was up and continued his way downstairs. He greeted Husk as usual, and like usual Husk only grunted at the demon.

Making his way into the kitchen Alastor was stunted in place by the sight in front of him. There you stood deer tail wagging, singing along to music as you mixed a bowl of who knows what together. Alastor observed you quietly as ever, and definitely not checking you out because that would be rude- however your tail was very much distracting.

Clearing his throat the static spitting out behind his voice, you jumped slightly at the sound of him, looking over your shoulder to where he stood at the kitchen entry. The two of you simply stared at each other for a moment, the song in the background seemingly quieter than before, as if the two of you were in your own little zone.

Alastor couldn’t describe the gravitational pull he had toward you, he would’ve been a fool to deny your beauty, but he’d never had issue admitting when a demon or person was beautiful, it didn’t matter to him, so he couldn’t grasp why you seemed to have an immediate effect on him.

You too felt similarly gawking at the sight of him, i mean you’d never seen pictures of him, only art or depictions, which really didn’t do him any good. You were honestly a little embarrassed, you thought he was incredibly handsome, contrary to your beliefs prior to this moment, and you felt a little silly to suddenly feel like going back on your apprehension about him simply because of how attractive he was.

Deciding to finally break the intense yearning gaze the two of you held, Alastor perked up stepping close to you swinging his hand out to shake. “Alastor darling, pleasure to meet you, quite the pleasure.” Going unnoticed by you, Alastor’s voice involuntarily dropped lower, making it come out more sultry than he’d ever done during an introduction. Of course Alastor was aware it wasn’t his normal voice and wondered why the hell he decided to modify his tone to come out as seductive as it did; was it just by nature?

“I’m YN, Charlie’s best friend. I don’t know if you knew i was staying but i am, surprise! Heh,” You say a little nervously sticking out your hand but quickly retracting it, as it was covered in dough. “I’m making bread and breakfast, do you like french toast?” You finish finally gaining the courage to meet his gaze properly.

His eyes were lidded, and he looked down at you only with his eyes keeping his head forward, which made you feel some type of way. He had such a big presence, height aside, that would make anybody on the receiving end of his heated gaze, shrink. “I suppose i wouldn’t mind a little bite to eat, tell me little doe, how do you make such a meal?”

Of course Alastor knew what french toast was, but he’d much prefer to play stupid so he could listen to you speak, and have you look up at him so deliciously. “Well, i’m making some homemade no yeast bread, and then i’m gonna do the egg and frying, normally i mix some cinnamon and honey in, but i might not since i don’t know what you guys like. A lot of people put syrup, but i can’t stand it; too sticky.” You explained mixing all of your ingredients, turning to him you smiled.

“Would you mind greasing the pan for me, please?” Alastor nearly purred at you with how you requested his help he would’ve bent himself backwards if it meant you’d ask him like that again. The way these emotions hit him in the gut; the undeniable feeling of desire he was trying to fight against was incredibly intense and oddly, he liked it. “Of course my dear, whatever you wish, i shall see to.” With the snap of his fingers his hair had been pulled back, suit jacket gone, leaving him in only his white button up, and a pink apron.

Shamessly your eyes roamed his figure watching as he began to grease the pan with his hand. His eyes still lidded and smile relaxed. You enjoyed how he stood tall and relaxed, and it was only now when you caught a peek of his red tail that you realized; “You’re a deer?”

Alastor paused momentarily, eyes lazily difting toward you. He didn’t mind that you saw his tail, and he was a little surprised you lacked to notice he was a deer. “What did you think i was sweetheart?” Alastor exclaimed his entertainment persona peeking through as he did. You peeled your eyes away feeling a little bad for staring at him, instead you focused on placing the bread into the bow greased pan before responding. “Maybe a fox, but to be honest i didn’t think too much about it.”

Alastor hummed in agreement, watching as you placed the bread in to the oven. There weren’t many does Alastor has seen, many bucks but does were more of a rarity. The two of you made breakfast, bantering about things here and there and getting to know one another.

“What’s earth like?” You asked watching him prepare dough for beignets which he insisted you tried as it was a lousiana breakfast staple- but also because he wanted to have you to himself just a bit longer, and show off his cooking skills. “What do you mean dear?” Alastor questioned brows furrowed slightly, but his inquiry came soft with no judgement. “I’m not human, moms an angel, dad was one of the few hell borns that kinda just popped up, we don’t know where he went to though, anyways i’ve never seen the earth.”

Now that, was news to him. He suspected you were something special based off the tugging feeling he had toward you, but being a literal angel wasn’t something he would’ve bet on, but should’ve guessed on. Without a worry in his mind, Alastor happily told you about his home in new orleans, what it was like being a radio host, how in got into voodoo, how he new some cajun french, as well as his mother.

Leaning on the counter head rested on his hand, looking at you dreamily while the beignets fried. “My mother was an angel, she was my biggest supporter at the time, the reason i kept pushing. I have the upmost respect for mothers like mine.” You, as equally lost in the dream like bliss Alastors presence brought you, smiled at his story’s ogling at the man who spoke so highly of his mom. “That’s the sweetest Alastor, I wish i could’ve met the woman who made you into such a gentlemen.” You flirt subtly gently patting his arm.

Alastor hummed a lovesick smile on his face his tail wagging happily behind him as the two of you continued to yap. Tails syncing with the way they swayed unnoticed by you two as you lost yourselves in eachother, also going unnoticed was Charlie giddy as could be, in the background jumping up and down. Slipping away to Vaggie, Charlie gripped her like she was her life line. “YN and Alastor are totally going to get together! Ahh!” Charlie squealed shaking a limp Vaggie back and forth.

~

“Mhm Alastor please please please,” You chant wrapped tightly around the demons waist, as he pressed you up against your dresser. After a full day of being alongside Alastor the tension snapped between you two, although it took a few things to get there. First Angel hitting on you right after breakfast, it made Alastor seethe the symbols and static materializing as he watched Angel hit on you. It made Alastor realize such a sweet doe like you must be marked, can’t have other buck or demon filth thinking they can just put there hands on you.

The second thing that egged him on was when the two of you went for a stroll together, and while in a store witnessed a demon repeatedly harass you while you simply tried to pick out a dress! Alastor apologized for the blood shed, but he professed he needed to obliterate that demon to protect you and that would be the only time he would ever put you in a position to see such things. Which made your heart flutter, you felt the desire to have him protect you, it’s not like you couldn’t do it yourself but it made you weak in the knees to have a demon like Alastor jumped to protect you.

Thrusting into you needily, Alastor growled like a mad man his hand climbing up your body to grab your cheeks gently fixing your gaze up to him. “You’re mine,” Static laced his tone as he hissed out at you, pushing his body flush to yours. Moaning like a whiny porn star, you nodded in your head in a daze. “My mate,” He muttered again breathing deeply as he clenched his teeth.

Reaching your hands up to grab his antlers that sprout, you couldn’t help the way your body shook and the way you lewdly moaned. You felt so electrified and couldn’t contain the pleasure Alastor was making you feel. “Please Al, I love it so good,” You whined against his lips, his smile closed and strained as his lips brushed against yours, your breath tickling him as you whined.

Smashing your lips together Alastor picked up the pace feeling like a wild animal. He wanted you, forever, he wanted you to be his one and only, his only doe. Making himself hornier with the thought of having you all to himself his static crackled loudly as he thought up something mischievous. Pulling back from your heated kiss, you whined begging him to kiss you, touch you and fuck you, smiling at you in your disheveled state, a green huge suddenly engulfed the room.

The two of you lit up like neon as symbolize shined in the background. “Give yourself to me little doe, be my mate for entirety and the world is yours, anything you or your friends want i will give you. I can’t let such a thing like you go, i need you.” Alastor statically said, it sounded quite ominous but you were too horny to pick up on that, you could only pay attention to the need you had between your legs and in your heart. Alastor wanted you to be his forever, linked to you for eternity. Perhaps it was the fact that you were both deer that you two had this simultaneous connection, but regardless you couldn’t care you just wanted him back as much as he wanted you.

Thrusting yourself upward into him, you gripped his hand, while clenching down on him at the same time. “Yes, always i’m yours only; it’s a deal.” You moaned. Growling demonically Alastors green disputes like electricity, escaping this room and flowing through the hotel like wave. Feeling his heart bloom Alastors ears clipped back as he jackhammered into you, the dresser slamming against the wall while you squealed a little giggle bubbling out from how needy he became. That giddiness left as a violent hot mass washed over you, screaming out a moan you clutched Alastor, singing out his name through moans of appreciation as he coaxed you with praises through your orgasm.

It shook your body, and soon after Alastor came to a halt inside you, biting down hard on your neck. You moaned his name, not even feeling pain as he sunk his teeth into you down to the gum. After a few moments of licking up your blood he pulled away gazing into your fucked out eyes. As you were about to tell Alastor that you needed to figure out why you were both so suddenly connected, Charlie bolted in.

“YOU MADE A DEA- FUCK IM SORRY!” Within the span of two seconds Charlie had two separate panic attacks, one because she saw the green deal making light shoot through the hotel while you were alone with Al, and the second right after she closed to door from seeing the two of you intertwined at the hips.