#so maybe ben's one was projection

[fablexdreams]

Rip Ben Finn, you would have loved eating cereal at 3am.

Rip Page, you would have loved debate club.

Rip Walter Beck, you would have loved the found family trope.

Rip Jasper, you would have loved the Scrub Daddy.

Rip Reaver, you would have loved red carpets and glambots.

Rip Sparrow, you would have loved a fucking break.

Rip Theresa, you would have loved The Sims.

Rip Logan, you would have loved Lexapro.

Rip HoBW, you would have loved pop music.

[twojamie-o-clock]

I literally said I should delete all social media for a month because it’s ruining my art HOWEVER. consider polly and two, if you will, and how they are always there for each other even when they’re not.

almost immediately after two regenerates, polly accepts him. she’s confused and lost and probably more than a little upset and thrown into a Dalek story which he does little to be clear about, and she accepts him. she entertains his passing interests and urges throughout the story, and she constantly points out to Ben how this must be the Doctor, if only because he’s taken the place of the last one. this new doctor who is wild and intense and tactile and also even more mysterious and confusing than the past one. this doctor who doesn’t even seem to know who he himself is yet. Polly comforts and helps even when she doesn’t really know what has happened; she sees what’s in front of her and works with it.

It’s not seamless, but they get each other. not all the time. but they are there - polly is there, in the most vulnerable moment - when there were not many others to be there for one another. and of course it’s not perfect, but they do click, they do turn to each other, they do work together in ways that ben and jamie learn to (that the s4 team splits into pretty much every pair for various reasons is what makes it so interesting. like Polly and Ben and Jamie and the Doctor have their own relationships and being so so deeply intertwined to the point of like. love parallels if you want. and then ben and jamie serve as the male companions together who tend to get beat up, who don’t always agree but always have each other’s backs, who remind each other where they are, while two and polly are generally more ,,,,, well this is me gender projecting onto two because I want her gender, but they do click like that. and then Polly is Jamie’s reference for his first few adventures in the tardis. meanwhile Ben and the Doctor uh. I’ll think about them more later.) and while of course Jamie does end up being the doctor’s go-to for physical affection, you still see a greater deal of it with Polly and the Doctor that’s not quite present in non-granddaughter figures before. I feel like they care about each other in a “I’ve seen you at your lowest and I don’t really know much else about you but I’ll be here, if you need it,” way which never goes insanely deep because (as I’ve kind of already yapped about on the trans fic but) they also rely on words alongside their brief affection in a way that two and jamie don’t.

anyway. they grow with and on each other. and then you cut to the faceless ones………..while Polly and Ben obviously have been wanting to go home, they aren’t expecting/in control of it when it happens. so they’ll leave, yes, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t leave them with a bitter taste……a hasty goodbye, not enough thought, not enough words. [60s who departure voice] quick. two seconds before the doctor’s urge to adventure takes hold. you have two seconds to summarize what the past year(?) of your life has meant to you…..

….and afterwards, well, how does Polly sit with that? She wants to travel. She wants to keep moving, keep going, never stop. But she also cannot bear thinking of the doctor and everything she was, in a way, forced to leave behind when the choice was brought in front of her so abruptly. she wants to push away her own rejection of that life (and, by association, Ben, if you’re a “do you dream in color” fan……again why that story’s characterizations are golden. ben is everything the tardis was, of course she cannot stay with him. of course she cannot give him up.) but she couldn’t betray herself by ignoring all of it, so she travels. and that really does feel like her carrying two with her in the only ways she can. and the Doctor, well, he carries on living even more true to himself across s5-6, taking more and more bold, interfering steps as he actively chooses to intervene and rescue those in a way the first doctor did not. as he rebels even further from gallifrey and the time lords, as he accepts parts of him he might never understands just as Polly did.

they’re not always together, and they don’t always get it. but they hold onto each other, in their worst of times, or in the best, just that little bit, because they were there for each other, and they’ll always be.

[velolceraptor]

Me thinking about Ben: teehee he looks like such a silly goofy guy °v° He's kinda dumb but that's okay :) and hee hoo hee hoo silly silly little redheaded fellow tee hee!

Also me: Ben looks like he gets verbally beaten by his family for his low intellect and probably has a lot of pent up rage while dealing with it in unhealthy ways. He also seems like the type to fear falling behind and whenever he's showed up (embarrassed; put to shame) he takes it in the worst way possible since he's dealt with it so many times, quickly growing tired of it. But he's also probably insecure about himself and was probably shamed for it so for most of the time like school, family, and after school clubs, he probably puts on a face and lies about everything, trying to suppress his emotions and not make a scene. He probably and maybe constantly tries to prove his worth but ends up mucking things up and making things even worse than before. And another thing is-

*GETS SNIPED*

Me, now a ghost: hee hoo silly sad ginger boy

(sorry I listened to 'I bet on losing dogs by mistake while thinking about him')

[fieldsofbone]

one of my advisors emotionally eviscerated me in my dissertation meeting this morning and made me cry in front of him and my school dad (my other advisor). i know that some people have the “you doubted me and i’m going to prove you wrong so you can eat your words” instinct when they receive criticism but instead i was cursed with the the “internalize it until i feel worthless and the last five years of my life in which i’ve been studying toward this goal i deserve but have had many undeserved obstacles to feel pointless” reflex

[midwesternfields]

BOOK REVIEW 📖

Last year I kept track of the series & films I watched; this year I've decided to keep track of whatever books I read! So this one is for the month of January – I'll share these sometime after the month is over, or if I read more than one book during the month, I will do their reviews as soon as I finish the book :)

[luke-shywalker]

let me know if you need anything

“Hey, Solo!”

Ben looked up. The sudden motion triggered a dull ache in his right eye—he winced.

“Uh—sorry.” Amalia came to a halt in front of him in the grass. The tall, bulky Togruta girl always looked like she was going to barrel right into you, but always managed to stop a few inches short. Back when they’d hated each other, Ben had thought this was some kind of intimidation tactic. But now that they were something like friends, he realized that she was just…well…awkward as heck.

Amalia peered at him and at his covered eye, then tapped her own cheek. “You look like one of the deep space pirates.”

“Wow,” said Ben, deadpan. “I’ve only heard that about five hundred times since I came back to Jedi school.”

“What’d they do to you, huh?”

Ben juggled the air with his hands, trying to figure out how much detail to go into. “Uh…they cut my eyeball open, and sewed a synthetic band into it to hold it together and make it stop falling apart. Basically.”

“Whoa. Sounds gnarly, dude.” Amalia paused. “…Can I see?”

Ben laughed. “Bro. Do you want to see?”

“I mean? Kinda? Will you like, die if it’s exposed to air?”

“Listen, I’ll show you, if you want to freaking see so bad.” He lifted the patch. He had to manually pry his eyelids apart—they were still swollen. He closed his left eye, just to see how well he could see her—everything was sort of a bright, slanted blur.

Amalia made a face. “Ew. It’s all red. Is that blood? Nasty. I see a coagulated mass of—something. There is straight-up slime in your eye, dude.”

Ben put the patch back on. “Yeah—I’ve been trying to, like—cry it out, but I can’t think of anything sad enough to make me cry. I dunno. I’ve had a hard time feeling emotion lately, in general.”

He said it, and then realized he hadn’t wanted to say it. He backtracked as quickly as he could.

“But now that you’re here, Mal, all I gotta do is look at your ugly mug,” he quipped.

Amalia rolled her eyes so hard she pretty much just rolled her whole head. “Hardee har har. Have you looked in a mirror? Geez, Solo, you can’t say shit like that to girls.”

“Oh—you’re a girl? Oh my Force, I didn’t realize. Sorry, miss.”

She wound up and punched him in the arm. Hard.

“Ow! Bruh. I’m already injured.”

“Well, you weren’t injured enough,” Amalia huffed. “Fixed it for you.”

“I’m telling Uncle Luke.”

“Yeah, go run and tell your Uncle Luke. Pissbaby.”

Ben tried to think of something clever to retort, but then his eye started hurting again, and he felt kind of sick. He hissed and lowered himself down into the grass, which seemed to initiate a truce.

Amalia leaned down. “You okay, bro?”

“Yeah—fine.”

“Are you still allowed to train and stuff?”

“I’m not supposed to do any ‘strenuous activity’ for four weeks.”

“Well, you were never getting any, anyway,” Amalia snickered. “Now you just have an excuse.”

Ben wrinkled his nose. “Ew. No, I mean…”

“Does lifting rocks with the Force count as strenuous activity? You’re not technically lifting them physically.”

“Eh. I always give myself headaches when I do that normally, anyway, so…maybe just littler rocks.”

“When are you gonna be able to see again?”

“Out of this eye?”

“Yeah, well, which eye do you think I’m kriffin’ talking about, dumbass—“

“I don’t know.”

“…Damn.” Amalia sat down next to him. “Sucks.”

“Yeah, I mean…I know it’s gonna be months. Maybe a year. And I don’t even know if it’ll ever be the same. Probably not.”

Amalia twitched her lips to one side. “Does it bother you?”

“Like, what, the pain? Or…”

“No, like…losing your vision. Like, coping with the loss.”

Ben shrugged. “…I dunno. Sure ain’t the biggest thing I’ve lost. It’s hard, I guess, knowing you’ll never be the same, but…I was already never gonna be the same, so…” He trailed off.

Amalia nodded at the horizon, picking a blade of grass apart with her fingers. “Yeah…I get how that is.”

They sat there in silence for a few moments. A low breeze came and rustled the grass.

“…Maybe I’ll gain some kind of extra Force sensitivity,” Ben said hopefully. “To compensate. Or something.”

“Yeah,” said Amalia. “Or…maybe you won’t, and you’ll just be half-blind.”

Ben threw her a tired glance. “Thanks, Mal. You’re a real pal.”

“What can I say? I try to offer a realistic outlook on life.”

“Hm.”

“But, for real though…let me know if you need anything. Okay, Solo?”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “Like what? Another punch in the arm?”

“Well, yeah, if you need that, I’m your girl. But, uh, seriously. Like if you need to talk, or…” She gestured vaguely at nothing.

“No offense, Mal? But you are not great at talking.”

“Hey. Never said I was. Just said that I would. Or if you wanna, like, just go throw rocks in the pond together, or something. Go look for weird bugs. Climb that cliffside Luke said not to climb. You know?”

Ben smirked. “Ha. Okay. Yeah. Gotcha. And then I’ll bang my head real hard, and knock out my other eye.”

“Exactly. You get me.” Amalia stood up and dusted the grass off her tunic. “Well…I’m on kitchen prep with Fannie and Meliko tonight, so…guess I gotta go. Do an extra meditation for me, will ya? Fannie drives me nuts.”

“Really? She’s so nice.”

“Yeah,” Amalia scoffed. “That’s what drives me nuts.”

Ben snorted. “Well, okay, Mal. See ya at dinner, then, I guess.”

“Will you see me though?”

“Dude, shut up!”

[deareverlasting]

BEAR WITH ME.

warning: spoilers for ep 75

i was just scrolling through tiktok and then the thought occurred to me that everyone grew up together (minus ben and aiden) and basically never interacted until the group project. yeah, duh, that's the whole premise of their strange group at first, but it just strikes a cord to think that these kids who have become so inseparable were so close to each other this whole time without even knowing it, without even knowing that they needed each other.

because why now, after all these years, would they? after all, they were just strangers who occasionally saw each other in the hall or during class, strangers that they could never understand, right? they were just too different.

i mean, just think about how taylor says she's always noticed ashlyn since they were kids and how she was always on her own. she didnt understand how ash could be content with that, isn't it lonely?

tyler is most likely, lets face it, pretty popular. when we're introduced to him and taylor they're in this huge group of typical jocks due to tyler being on the baseball team. ashlyn and logan must've known him before due to that, seen them parading through the halls. and seeing as how neither logan nor ash like loud noises or crowds very much they probably wrote him off as a loud jock and went about their day. maybe saw how cold and angry he was with everyone but his sister and thought he must be unpleasant to be around.

as for logan, he, like ash, is pretty obviously very much a background character in everyone else's lives. most likely a loner just like ashlyn, very shy. if the rest of the gang ever noticed him it was probably nothing more than a glance. because logan at the time was nothing more than barrons stereotypical nerd that does his homework because he's scared of what will happen if he doesn't.

it just makes me ILL that these people who would grow to care so much about each other were all so close without knowing it, hell, they probably passed each other in their towns grocery store multiple times before. maybe seen tyler play in one of his games with taylor yelling above everyone else because that's her brother, saw ashlyn perform and dance, saw logan reading in the astronomy section in the library.

and yet they didn't know they'd ever learn to trust these strangers with their lives every night. that they would learn that tyler is more than just a loud, angry jock. he loves and cares about his sister, took up being basically a parent from a very young age, and doesn't truly have any friends because they are just a distraction.

that taylor is every bit as friendly as she let's others believe, but if you mess with her brother or her friends that sun can cloud over so quick.

that ashlyn likes to be alone but given the time and patience, she would love to be alone with you. that she doesn't want to, but if she's needed, she will step up and be the leader you need. sure, she isn't good at "friends" and she'll make mistakes, but she owns up to them because she tries and she cares.

and finally, logan, who at first is so shy and unsure, yet is quick-witted and brave enough to make hard choices and learn where he fits in with a group. to stand up against someone who bullied him and threatened him daily and help someone else from going down the same path he did.

AND PLEASE don't even get me started on ben and aiden.

those two have been practically alone their whole lives until they met each other. all aiden had was the dark room that reeked of molding food and people he hung around just to pass the time because he knew they weren't permanent, nothing ever was with his parents.

and ben's only friend before aiden being the music he could create before it was taken away from him, and all he had left was the broken melodies that he tried to find in every punch he threw.

they were both so, so alone and seeking something that would stay, something that would last because everything else that made them happy seemed to fall just out of reach now.

but just one move away, one final move to a small town in georgia held everything that could hurt and heal them all in one. they were all what everyone needed, even if they didn't know it and it drives me insane that if these kids hadn't been put through hell, they never would have found each other.

and they're more than willing to claw their way out together, not because they have to to survive, but because they want to so that they can live.

red what have you dooone 😭/pos

[jaikoyucky]

Hidden Desires

Oneshot

Summary: You come home late after hanging out with Lonnie and she's jealous.

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: angst? Idk, not proofread and unresolved feelings. Doesn't follow the descendants plot, let's all pretend they all still share dorms okay pookies?

A/N: made this in 3am when I randomly got a brain fart, 10 yr old me would be so proud of embracing my gayness for Evie, also so glad the fandom is alive again.

The cool night air nipped at your skin as you tiptoed towards yours, Evie's and Mal's dorm—though, considering Mal mostly slept at her boyfriend Ben's dorm, it might as well have been yours and Evie's. But Tonight, you prayed for her presence, a silent plea to the universe to spare you Evie's wrath for your tardiness. Holding your breath, you gently turned the door handle, feeling a cold shiver run down your spine. You nearly sighed in relief when you found it unlocked, but your efforts to sneak in quietly went to waste as the door suddenly swung open, blowing stray hairs out of your face. Your heart pounded as it revealed, Evie. Her striking blue hair seemed to amplify the icy coldness of her expression

"Where have you been?" The dark blue-haired woman spoke in a flat voice, her expression stony. You knew what this meant.

Or did you?

Your body went slack under her intense gaze like a deer caught in headlights.

There was a strange contrast between her imposing figure and the ethereal glow cast upon her by the moonlight filtering through the window. She looked... Hot breathtakingly beautiful- You're doing it again! A wave of heat flushed your face as you shook your head to clear your thoughts and quickly averted your gaze to look over her shoulder, spotting one lit lamp and no sign of the purple-haired girl. You cursed under your breath and looked back at Evie. Your breath hitched as she tilted her head, eyes half-lidded, expecting an answer.

You sighed and finally gave in. "Me and Lonnie were hanging out at her dorm... and I didn't realize how late it got."

"Of course, you were at her place again." Evie rolled her eyes and scoffed.

"You were supposed to help me tonight. You promised." she reminded you, and you missed the slight quiver in her voice.

"I'm so, so sorry, Vie! I got really caught up in—" your mind raced, trying to find a plausible excuse. 'You got really caught up in ranting your growing feelings for Evie to Lonnie,' your inner voice taunted.

Crossing your arms against the chill of the hallway, you wondered if it was the cold seeping into your bones or Evie's icy glare that made you shiver, or maybe both.

As if sensing your discomfort, she grabbed your arm and dragged you into the room, slamming the door behind you. Your body gradually warmed, but Evie's cold stare remained fixed on you.

She turned away with a sigh, heading towards her bed. There, she grabbed a stylish blue jacket accented with black before returning to hand it to you. Hesitantly, you slipped it on, finding solace in its warmth and the lingering scent of her.

"I can still help," you offered, your gaze wandering over her surprisingly tidy desk. It was odd. Usually, it was a chaotic mess of patterned papers, colorful threads, and half-finished projects. She always cleaned up the next day.

Weird.

"It's fine. You should rest. You look exhausted from whatever you and Lonnie were up to," she said, her voice dripping with barely concealed disdain. You didn't notice it though, of course you didn't.

Had their fencing match really been that intense? You attempted to fix your hair, though you doubted it made a difference. A vivid memory surfaced of your earlier debacle with Lonnie, where you’d spent the entire session hitting her with the blade while rambling about Evie, all on the misguided advice that it would help.

Clearly, it hadn't.

"Vie, are you okay?" You ventured deeper into the room, her eyes holding an unreadable emotion.

"Yes,"

"Are you sure? You don't look it. If it's about not being able to help you like I promised, I'm really sorry, Vie. I'll make it up to you, I swear! I'll even make Lonnie—"

"Yes! I'm sure!" she interrupted, plopping down on her bed. "Sleep."

"Alright...if you say so," you muttered, letting the matter drop. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you flopped onto the bed beside hers. You rolled onto your back, facing Evie's turned form.

Five minutes later, sleep remained elusive. You tossed and turned, counting imaginary sheep to no avail. Frustration gnawed at you. Opening your eyes again, you found Evie still restless, her body shifting as she searched for a comfortable position. With a creak of the bed, you gave up and stood up.

You hesitated, biting your lip as you leaned towards her seemingly sleeping form. A gentle tap on her shoulder was your next move. This couldn't be weird, right? You two had done this countless times as kids. You're doing this platonically, Right?

"Can I-" Your words were cut short as a strong hand yanked you onto the bed beside her. She rolled over, facing away from you, a muffled "yes you may" escaping her lips. Relief washed over you as you slid under the covers. Her warmth was comforting, a familiar sensation that brought back memories of countless childhood nights spent huddled together against the cold. This was how it was supposed to be, you realized. You'd do anything to preserve this moment, even if it meant burying your growing feelings deep down. For now, this was enough.

Evie turned to face you, a soft smile playing on her lips as she watched you sleep. Your mouth was slightly open, and you were snoring lightly. A fleeting thought crossed her mind, a dangerous impulse to kiss you. But it was quickly dismissed as she reached out to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. a gentle gesture that belied the turmoil within her.

Her mind raced back to earlier. Why were you so insistent on spending time with Lonnie? What could she possibly have that Evie didn't? She was prettier, smarter—well, at least in her own mind. And yet, you'd broken your promise to help her with her shop, a lie she'd made just to keep you close. It was a desperate plea, a transparent attempt to cling to your presence. Was she jealous? The thought was absurd. She didn't like you...or did she? No, it was just protectiveness, pure and simple. If only you knew how she truly felt.

Her gaze drifted to your lips, and she found herself tracing their outline with her thumb. A wave of fear washed over her. What if you left her once you discovered her feelings? The thought of losing your friendship was unbearable. She would do anything to maintain this fragile balance, even if it meant burying her emotions deep within.

I might or might not make a part two idk

[janeyseymour]

Share Your Address

based on Ben Platt's "Share Your Address", and my rendition of the song is attached! Please enjoy!

Summary: Melissa is intoxicating. It might be too soon, but you want everything that has to do with her.

WC: 5k

You had never planned on meeting Melissa Schemmenti, much less falling for her. But just like that, she waltzed her way into your life just a month ago at the bar. As you’ve learned, she’s also someone who almost never lets her guard down. The same would go for you- always guarded and hesitant to let anybody into your life. It’s done you wrong before. For someone who always had your walls up around you, you fell hard for that redhead. You’re not quite sure you could pin any one thing that made you fall for her as hard as you did, and you’re only continuing to fall. There’s just something about her that’s so intoxicating. Maybe it’s her sweet and somehow simultaneously musty perfume, or the way that her shiny red hair always perfectly frames her face. It might be the way that she has that sparkling Hollywood smile without even trying, or the fact that she is quite literally everything that you’ve always dreamed of- hardheaded, not afraid to speak her mind- she’s always got that hint of sarcasm and fire to her. Or maybe it’s just that she’s Melissa, and she has an absolutely addictive personality. Whatever it is about the second grade teacher at Abbott Elementary, you can’t get her out of your head. 

Darling you might think it’s too soon, but I can’t get you out of my head now. Picturing myself in your room, and I wanna be with you ’til I’m dead now. 

It’s been a month, and in that month, you and Melissa have been practically inseparable. After work, you’re with her and cooking dinner or treating her to a nice night out on the town. You end up in her bed quite a few times. On Saturdays, the two of you will go out to the club and relieve what you truly believe might’ve been the highlight of your life- meeting her. On Sundays, you soak in the peace and quiet, taking every breath and mentally preparing yourselves for the next week.

And if you aren’t together, you’re texting. You tease Melissa about the fact that she should probably be teaching her students, but she dismisses your concern and promises you that they’re working on an independent project- they’ll get her attention if they need her.

The truth is, you just can’t get the redheaded second grade teacher out of your head- you’re falling for her, and you’re falling for her fast and hard. It might be too quick to judge, but there’s something special about her. Just like when you were younger and more naive, you picture yourself in her room. You daydream about the things you would do to her if you were with her at the moment. And when your imagination becomes a bit over the top, you have to leave your cubicle and take a few laps around the building to cool down those rather steamy thoughts you’re having. But then, of course, she texts you again- and once again, you feel like you’re on fire.

You want Melissa Schemmenti until you are no longer on this earth. If you spent your last few breathing moments with her, you’re fairly certain it would be worth it- a life well lived.

I want your friends to be my friends. I’ll make you breakfast in your bed. I want it all with you. And if I’m coming on too strong, it’s ‘cause I’ve waited far too long for someone just like you.

It’s only been a month, but here you are with Melissa, and you’re making breakfast that the two of you are planning to enjoy in bed. Now, usually she would never condone that- it took her long enough to begin eating on her plastic covered couch (and you’ve somehow managed to convince her to take it off… sex on a couch covered in plastic is not something you ever wish to experience again). But she’s willing to make an exception for you; you seem to be the exception to everything she ever thought she knew in life.

“You’re so sexy when you cook in my clothes,” Melissa wraps her arms around your waist and kisses the slope of your neck. Her right hand swiftly trails down your body to grab your ass. “God.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you chuckle quietly. “I’m sure you look way hotter in it.”

You feel her rather than hear her refute that claim as she shakes her head into your back.

The two of you settle on her bed with a wonderful spread of breakfast and coffee. Somehow, she’s managed to fix your cup of coffee to perfection. Of course she knows how you prefer your coffee- it’s one of the first things she learned about you.

It’s a warm, still somewhat sleepy haze that you’re in when her phone begins to ring. She glances at the caller ID and sighs before flipping her phone over on the nightstand. You had just so happened to catch a look at it, and you know her work wife won’t be too thrilled if she doesn’t answer.

“You can answer it,” you say through a mouthful of eggs. “It’s okay, hun.”

The redhead quirks her lips to the side but relents, although she makes it quite clear to you that she’s not appreciating the fact that your little bubble has been burst. She does pick up the phone though.

“What, Barb? It’s nine in the morning.”

“Well, good morning to you too, Melissa,” the kindergarten teacher quips. “I was just calling to see if we were still good for lunch today?”

Green eyes look over to you. You nod with a smile before mouthing, ‘Hang out with Barb. It’s okay.’

“We are,” the redhead grumbles. “Can I go back to bed now?”

“Oh, you were still asleep! I’m sorry; I just figured you would already be up,” Barbara apologizes.

“I’ll see you at noon,” the redhead next to you sighs out. “Bye.”

Melissa hangs up the phone before placing her phone back down. She turns to you. “I forgot about lunch with Barb,” she admits quietly, knowing that the two of you had made plans to walk around the city today.

“It’s fine, hun,” you promise her. “You deserve to go have fun with her. Although…” you trail off as you debate whether you want to voice your thoughts or not.

“What?”

“I would love to meet her, and the others in your group,” you tell her softly. “I- I know it’s soon, but I have a feeling this could be something, and I would love to be able to meet them.”

The redhead gives you a warm smile- not what you had expected from her. “I think that would be nice. How would you feel about joining me an’ Barb for lunch today?” 

“Really?” you ask softly. “You’re up for that? I was- I was nervous that I was coming on too strong.”

Melissa pulls you in for a soft, sweet kiss. “What you feel for me, I feel for you. An’ I don’t know why, but I’m absolutely crazy about you.”

“Good,” you sigh with relief. “I’m sorry if I come off as too strong, but I- I’ve waited far too long for someone like you to come into my life.”

“A hot mess?” the redhead teases.

You roll your eyes. “Someone who is as beautiful and as sexy as you while having a quick and brilliant mind.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

You do. Breakfast is forgotten until after you shut her up.

And so you join your… well, she does introduce you to her work wife as her girlfriend- you join your girlfriend for lunch. And Barbara is nothing but elegant and kind to you, just as Melissa said she would be- she ensures that you’re always a part of the conversation while Melissa fills in the missing pieces of their stories and conversation for you. 

And come a week later, on a Friday, you’re able to leave your own place of employment an hour early to meet your girlfriend at her coworkers’ favorite bar for happy hour.

The Abbott crew welcomes you with open arms, just as Melissa had told you they would.

I want a key to your house. I wanna pick up your clothes. I wanna clean up your mess. I wanna know where you hide things, wanna be in your photos, wanna share your address. I know, I know it’s too soon, too fast, but this could last. I wanna share your address. I know, I know it- it feels like love, so let’s shack up. I wanna share your address. 

It’s been two months now that you’ve been seeing Melissa. And you can only find yourself falling for her more and more. It’s not what you had expected in the slightest when you first met her at the bar. In all honesty, you were expecting a one night stand at best, not to still be here with this beautiful woman two months later and officially dating.

You spend more time in Melissa’s house than your own apartment at this point- the redhead’s house feels more like home to you than your apartment ever has. You have a drawer reserved for you, a toothbrush for the nights that you spend with her, and you’ve made a little space for yourself on the nightstand on what you think of as your side of the bed.

The second grade teacher is out and grocery shopping by the time you wake up on this lazy Saturday. You know she’s already out, because there’s an index card propped up on her pillow that tells you exactly where she is, when she expects to be back, and it’s signed with a heart.

You’re exhausted from this week. but you know that you should probably get out of bed for the day. By the time you make your way down the steps, the aroma of the coffee that your girlfriend had made has you practically running for the pot.

Once you’ve finished your coffee, you glance around the living room, and there are various articles of both of your clothes from last night’s escapades. Your cheeks flush at the mere thought of what had taken place last night, and a dopey smile washes over your face.

With a sigh, you begin to pick up both yours and Melissa’s clothes, following the trail of pants, shirts, and undergarments back into the bedroom. You can’t help but chuckle at how desperate the two of you were after you got back from the bar. You toss them into her laundry basket and bring it down the steps with you on your hip. As you’re emptying the things into the washing machine, you see a glimmer of something hiding behind the big piece of metal. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you look. It’s a club- of course it is. Leave it to your girlfriend to think about needing a weapon if she was ever doing her laundry. You roll your eyes in good nature before depositing detergent into the machine and turning it on. 

As you make your way back up into the living room, you can’t help but notice the abundance of pictures that the redhead has in her house, all in beautiful frames. There’s something about it that makes you want to be in her photographs. You’re sure you’ll get there someday, maybe when you share an address with her.

You’ve just settled onto the couch when you hear Melissa fiddling with the front door. In an instant, you’re back on your feet and letting her in before heading out and managing to juggle the last few bags from her shopping trip.

“Thank you,” your girlfriend smiles at you when you return. She’s already unpacking the various bags when something catches your eye. It’s a picture frame that she just bought.

“That’s pretty,” you comment quietly. “Whose picture is going in there?”

Melissa smiles and then pulls out an envelope. “Ours.” 

Your heart swells in your chest. “I- I know it’s a bit soon to be saying this, and I don’t expect you to say it back, but: I love you.”

You’re immediately pulled into a warm kiss. “I love you too,” she murmurs as she rests her forehead against yours.

I just wanna stare at your face, and spend quality time with your mother. We can over drink at your favorite place, and we can waste the whole next day to recover.

You meet the Schemmenti family about six weeks into dating. And Melissa’s mother is an absolute delight. It’s clear as day who your girlfriend takes after in both looks and personality. Mathilde, but she insists you call her Tillie, is a lively woman with a bright personality and a tendency to be sarcastic and fiery. And while she has that bite to her, much like your girlfriend, she has a softer and warmer side that she shows you once she sees how in love you are with her daughter- you rarely take your eyes off of that bright and happy face now that she’s in the comfort of her mother’s home. She’s- she’ stunning; there’s no other way to put it.

Melissa is in the bathroom when Tillie finally asks you, “Why my Melly?” 

“I should’ve known you would ask that,” you chuckle as you sip your wine. “She’s home. It’s as simple as that.”

“It’s funny,” the older woman breathes out. “Melly said the same about you.”

From that day on, you and Tillie spend a lot of time together. From Sunday dinners with the Schemmenti family, to a nice lunch if you have a day off, you find that you and your girlfriend’s mother get along quite well. It doesn’t take long for her to quietly confide in you that Melissa is head over heels in love with you- something that she’s never seen before, even with her ex-husband. 

The act of over drinking at her favorite place takes often more than you’d really care to admit. But there’s one night where the two of you end up absolutely obliterated, and you truly have to take all of Saturday to recover from your wicked hangovers.

It all started when Jacob suggested that the Abbott crew go out for a happy hour on a Friday. And for some reason, Barbara agrees and convinces your girlfriend to tag along. Because the two of you were supposed to go out tonight together, she begs you to join the school crew for a few drinks.

A few drinks turns into a crazy night. It starts out tame enough, a beer or two. But then Ava shows up, claims that the place that you’re at is far too boring, and she escorts all of you to a skanky dive bar- the one that the two of you met in actually.

“This is our bar,” your girlfriend nudges you. “Who woulda thought that Ava would like a place like this.”

“The stickier the bar, the better,” the principal tells her, having heard the redhead’s comment.

You don’t even remember how you got back to Melissa’s house. The last thing you can somewhat string together is dancing with your girlfriend and giggling as Barbara brought over another round of shots for your group. That one did you in.

You wake with a groan. God, your head is pounding. And if you’re feeling this way, you don’t even want to guess how Melissa is feeling.

Your stomach turns, and you bolt for the bathroom. Before you know it, your girlfriend is right there with you, emptying the contents of her stomach into the trashcan beside you.

“Oh my god,” you groan out as you flush the toilet. 

“You’re tellin’ me,” Melissa whines as she closes up the bag and reaches for the mouthwash. “I’m never drinking again.”

“Neither am I,” you grumble as you reach for the bottle once she’s finished with it. 

With a few grunts, you manage to pick yourself up off the floor before assisting your girlfriend up too. The two of you just barely make it back to bed before your hand dives into the nightstand on your side and you pull out the Advil. You shake a few pills into your hand before offering Melissa the bottle. She follows suit, and then you’re swallowing them with the little bit of water that still remains in your water bottle.

You spend most of the day asleep, and it takes you until approximately four in the afternoon to even slightly feel like a human. Your girlfriend drags you to the couch before she sluggishly makes her way into the kitchen. She comes back with a plate full of food.

“Lis, if I eat now, I will hurl again.”

“Just eat, she grumbles as she takes a bite of a cracker. “Soak up the booze with carbs.”

“I’m never drinking again,” you grumble as you force yourself to eat a few pieces of toast.

“Neither am I,” Melissa promises herself.

Of course, the next weekend, you’re out at the bars again. 

I wanna watch you while you sleep. I know I might sound like a creep, but I can’t help myself. And it’s so easy to forget that we’ve barely even met, but I want no one else. 

It’s one of those rare days where you wake up before Melissa on a Saturday morning. Her soft snores fill the room, her hair is splayed out underneath of her, and there’s a hint of a smile dancing on her lips as she dreams. You only hope that she’s dreaming of you.

You know it might come off as a little creepy, maybe odd, but you find yourself just studying her face as you lay there with her. She’s like an angel- your redheaded, fiery, angel. Her eyes open slowly, and she blearily blinks away the sleep. Warm, green eyes find yours.

“Good morning,” you whisper as you kiss her nose.

She giggles just slightly before pulling herself closer to you. “It is a good morning when I wake up with you.”

You just continue to hold her close to you and drink in the wonderfully delicious haze of this sleepy morning.

In that moment, you realize that you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. In bed with your beautiful girlfriend- the one, you think quietly to yourself. You know that the two of you haven’t been together nearly long enough to fully know if she’s the one you want to be with for the rest of your life. They say that if a couple stays together for more than two years, they’ve hashed it all out, and that seems to be the threshold that a lot of couples seem to struggle to make it to, but there’s a gut feeling that you have about her. You have a feeling that you’ll make it to that two year mark, and then a long while after that if you’re lucky.

I want a key to your house. I wanna pick up your clothes. I wanna clean up your mess. I wanna know where you hide things, wanna be in your photos, wanna share your address. I know, I know it’s too soon, too fast, but this could last. I wanna share your address. I know, I know it- it feels like love, so let’s shack up. I wanna share your address. 

It’s a Thursday that you’re supposed to go to your girlfriend’s house for dinner when she calls you while you’re clocking out of work.

“Hey, babe,” you answer with a smile.

“Hey.” You can tell immediately that Melissa is not in a good mood. “So, I know we’re supposed to have dinner tonight at my house.”

“But?” you prompt quietly, and you can’t quite hide the sadness in your voice.

“One of my kiddos, Sharmia, her mom is gonna be late picking her up. By like… three hours- won’t get back into the city until six at the earliest, and that’s if she doesn’t hit any traffic.”

“Oh,” you sigh softly. “Hey, that’s okay. I know you want to be there for her, and she’s more important.”

“Thank you for understanding,” your girlfriend says quietly into the phone. “I knew you would.”

“Of course I do,” you tell her. “What if I stopped by the school and brought dinner for all of us? And then I can just come over with you once she’s picked up.”

“You don’t have to do that,” the redhead says, although she’s hoping you insist. Today has been rough enough as it is, and now she’s stuck in the school for longer than she’d like to be.

“I don’t have to, but I want to,” you promise. “I can’t say that Wawa's will be nearly as good as what we were going to cook up tonight, but… it’s something.”

“Thank you.”

You pull up to the school just a little while later with hoagies and drinks in hand and call to let her know you’re at Abbott.

Only about thirty seconds later is your girlfriend and her student pushing open the door for you to enter.

Sharmia’s mother ends up coming to the school at 6:30, apologizing profusely for keeping the two of you at the school and waiting for so long. Melissa just waves her off, telling her she would do it if it meant Sharmia was safe.

They leave, and then you and your girlfriend are walking out of the school hand in hand. You pull up to her house in record timing.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t just let yourself in,” Melissa tells you as she unlocks the front door and pushes it open.

“Hey,” you get her attention quietly with a squeeze to her hand. “It’s no big deal. I still got to spend time with you.”

“Yeah,” Melissa sighs. “But I’m sure you would’ve rather been able to come here and relax with a glass of wine instead of sitting in Abbott with me eating Wawa.”

“You know I’m a slut for a good Wawa hoagie,” you joke. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Still,” your girlfriend sighs as she drops to the couch. She kicks off her shoes. “Jesus, I’m exhausted.”

You hum your agreement. 

It’s an early night for the two of you, in bed and asleep by nine. Her chin is tucked into the crook of your neck, your arms keeping her against you to keep warm.

And come Saturday, the two of you are doing your rounds of shopping. She stops in front of the key making machine and inserts her key.

“What are you doing?” you furrow a brow.

Melissa smiles at you. “I’m making you a key… that way if I have another late night or you need something and I’m not there, you can just let yourself in.”

Slowly, your things make their way to Melissa’s house, and it’s fair to say that you practically live with her. You do still have your apartment though, in case something goes awry between the two of you and you need a place. 

But your clothes intermingle with hers, you picking up her clothes and tossing them into the laundry with your own. 

It warms your heart to know that there isn’t much your girlfriend hides form you at this point. You know where most of her weapons scattered around the house are- you always discover them with a chuckle. 

More pictures of the two of you begin to litter the flat surfaces in the house, and you’re included in a few family photos with the entire Schemmenti clan. There’s even a picture of the Abbott clan with you in it.

The longer that you stay with Melissa, the more you become fairly certain that you truly will end up with her in your life forever, and this house will become yours too.

I wanna be your emergency contact. You can put me down ‘cause you know I know you best (I know you best). It doesn’t matter where I go without you I’ll never be home. I wanna share your address.

“Do you really have to go?” you ask your girlfriend after she tells you about the upcoming PECSA conference.

“I do,” Melissa sighs softly. “But it’s only for a weekend, and I’ll be fine. Other than that one PECSA weekend, I’ve been fine.”

“What happened at this one weekend?” you ask with an amused smirk.

The redhead’s cheeks tint pink. “I may have broken my wrist after I took a tumble.”

“Melissa!”

“It was a couple years ago, and I’m fine.”

“Mel, if something like that happens again,” you take her hand gently in yours.

“You’ll be my first call,” she promises. “Well, after Barb if she ain’t with me.”

“Okay,” you sigh. “Just please… try not to break another bone, especially if I’m not already with you.”

“Trust me,” your girlfriend rolls her eyes. “I’m really going to try to not break another bone. That shit hurt like a bitch.”

She pulls out her phone, and after a few taps, you’re listed as her emergency contact on her phone. “See? You’ll be the first person to be called if I can’t call myself.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you fold your arms with a loving smile.

Melissa shrugs. “Yeah, and you love me.”

“You’re lucky I do.”

When PECSA weekend rolls around, you hate how alone you feel. You attempt to keep yourself busy, but it’s weird not being with your girlfriend. She’s constantly texting you about all of the fun things that she’s doing though, and it makes you happy to know she’s having a good time. Even though she told you that you were more than welcome to stay at her house over the weekend, and you do, it doesn’t feel like home the way it does when she’s with you. Home isn’t her house, you realize with a soft sigh. Home is wherever she. When she doesn’t end up calling you because she broke her wrist again, you sigh a breath of relief. And as soon as she walks through that front door and pulls you into a tight hug, you feel the energy in the room shift. You’re home again. 

I wanna be your emergency contact. You can put me down ‘cause you know I know you best (I know you best). It doesn’t matter where I go without you I’ll never be home. I wanna share your address.

You’re sitting at work when you get a phone call from your girlfriend. That’s odd- she should be standing outside at recess duty, not calling you.

“Hello?” you answer, voice laced with concern.

“Hun,” Melissa’s voice sounds a bit panicked. “I- I took a fall out on the recess yard.”

“Shit, are you okay?” you ask, although it’s clear from her tone alone that she isn’t.

“N-no,” she stutters out. “Barb’s gettin’ ready to take me to the ER now, but I- I wanted to let you know.”

“Shit,” you mutter as you close your laptop and begin to gather your things. “What hospital?”

“Jefferson,” she gasps out. “I- I definitely broke my ankle, hun.”

“Okay,” you sigh into the phone. “Okay, hold tight, babe. I’ll be there soon.”

“Thank you,” she whispers out.

“I love you,” you tell her before hanging up. You march yourself down to your boss’s office and let him know you’re heading out- family emergency. He just nods, and that’s all you need to sprint out of the office and out to your car.

When you get to the hospital, Barbara heads in your direction. “She broke it. They have her pretty drugged up right now, just a warning.”

You just give her a tight lipped nod before making your way into the room they have Melissa in.

“I told ya I’d call if I ever got hurt,” the redhead smirks, although her words are quite slurred.

You roll your eyes and make your way over to her, kissing her softly. “What the hell were you doing that you broke your ankle?”

“Janine challenged me to a monkey bar race,” your girlfriend tells you. “Hey, have I ever told you how beautiful you are, mi amore?”

“Idiot,” you grumble, but there’s a smile on your face. “You can be so stupid.”

“Yeah,” Melissa grins dopily. “Stupid in love with you.”

I want a key to your house. I wanna pick up your clothes. I wanna clean up your mess. I wanna know where you hide things, wanna be in your photos, wanna share your address. I know, I know it’s too soon, too fast, but this could last. I wanna share your address. I know, I know it- it feels like love, so let’s shack up. I wanna share your address. 

It’s only a year into dating that Melissa asks you to move in with her officially.

“Really?” you ask her.

Your girlfriend gives you a look that tells you she’s being serious, and you’re ridiculous for even questioning it. “Hun, you practically live here as it is. You have a key, you’re rarely ever at your apartment anymore, all of your stuff is here. I hav nothing to hide from you, your picture is all over this house. Why don’t we just…spare you the rent and share an address?”

“You don’t think it’s too soon? Too fast?” you ask her. You know that the two of you have thrown caution to the wind throughout most of this relationship, but still- moving in together officially is a big step.

She shakes her head. “If I thought we were moving too fast, do you think I would’ve asked you to move in?”

“If you’re serious, then yes. I’d love to actually move in with you.”

“Can I ask you one more question?” your girlfriend asks.

“Shoot.”

“So if we’re sharing an address, do you want to share a last name too?” Melissa drops to her knee. 

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Birds - A Raindro Drabble

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Rating: G. The fluffiest fluff that we need for today. Mentions of pregnancy. Word Count: 1385 a/n: I'm typing this 40 minutes before episode one of season two of TLOU drops but I'll post this immediately after. I'm lingering somewhere in the space between here and the planet Saturn. Up is down, down is up. I hope this fluff helps us all. This one is for Joel's wives. Written in conjunction for TLOU Sundays and Raindro 2025.

You remember the morning he finishes setting it up because you feel sick. Joel had done his best to convince you to stay in bed and had tried to get you to allow him to stay with you, but you'd protested until he left the room, insisting that you were fine and that the stomach bug you had would just go away on its own. He only half listened, finding someone else to take his patrol so he could stay home with you, always within earshot even as he stepped outside to hang the little birdhouse from the tree in the yard.

It was the first project he'd completed with your nephew, the two of them holed up in the studio as Joel taught Ben the basics of woodworking by building the simple structures. They matched, the two little houses, one hung proudly outside of your home and the other outside Tommy's.

"Looks nice," you comment when he finds you in bed later, your stomach still tied in knots even as he snuggles in behind you.

Joel kisses the back of your neck leisurely, "thought about pulling some of that old corn we have in the shed to feed them. Kinda lure them over, you know?" His grip around your waist tightens and you sigh, loathe to admit that you feel better simply having him next to you. Doing so would only prove him right when he'd insisted as much earlier.

Now, you simply agree with him.

"That would be nice," you whisper, just before your eyes fall shut.

"Saw some robins this morning," Joel notes the second he's through the door, pausing only to pull off his jacket and boots before crossing the kitchen to kiss your cheek. His stubble scratches your skin, but you lean into him anyway.

"Maybe that means this winter will be over soon," you laugh, suddenly turned in his arms so he can kiss you properly. It's slow and passionate and enough for you to wrap your arms tightly around his neck, holding him against you with fingers threaded through his hair.

He hums when he pulls back, his gaze immediately dropped between you, right where the slight curve of your stomach presses against his. "How's our little bean doing?"

You kiss him again. "We're good," you promise him, hoping that the reassurance will quell some of the anxiety you know he feels. It wasn't something either of you were trying for, much less ever expecting to happen, but now that you're here, with the newest Miller on the way, he's been more protective than normal.

"You sure? You don't need anything? Wait, maybe you should sit down and I'll finish..."

"Joel," you scold, although there's a hint of teasing evident in your voice. "I mean it. We're just fine. But if you do want to finish making dinner, I'm not about to complain," you laugh, already shifting away from him to move toward a chair.

He tugs on your hand before you make it too far, though, pulling you back into one last kiss before he lets you go.

He's out there again, feeding the birds when you come home with an oversized bag in your hand, gifts from the baby shower Maria had thrown you tucked inside. Joel had stayed home, insistent that you should enjoy some girl time, although you sensed that his absence was more of a result of the stress he so often felt at town gatherings.

"I saw a few blackbirds this morning before I left," you inform him, waddling over to kiss him hello as he lets the feed fall from his fingers.

Joel nods, "they flew off when I came out just now. Haven't seen them around before." His eyes fall to the bag. "What's in there?"

You smile. "Gifts."

He looks curious, scanning the contents of the bag before settling on the item thrown on top. "Is that..."

"A baby harness," you note, setting down the bag so you can pull out the item in question. "One of those things they used to have so you could strap your baby to your front while you work."

He narrows his eyes, "who the hell had one of those hanging around 25 years after the end of the world?"

You shrug, because you honestly can't answer that question. There had been so many people at the party that you couldn't even begin to try and remember you brought what. "Not gonna strap your kid to your chest?" you ask playfully.

Joel huffs, "did just fine without that the last time."

There's a beat of silence, the same one that always lingers whenever he brings up Sarah, and then you're kissing his jaw softly. "You'll do just fine this time, too."

It becomes a part of your routine as the months pass by. You find your way to the front porch to sit in the rocking chair, a cup of herbal tea in your hands. You're more or less stuck at home these days, Joel insistent that you follow the doctor's instructions to take it easy until the baby comes, which means that your morning escape to watch him feed the newest residents in your front yard truly is a breath of fresh air.

"We're gonna need to plant more corn at the rate you're feeding them," you shout, watching as he scatters the grain on the ground below the birdhouse. He was halfway through helping Ben make a bird feeder to go along with the house, preparation for the winter when it would be significantly harder to scatter feed on the ground with a thick layer of snow covering it instead.

"We'll have plenty," he insists, grabbing an extra handful to throw on the growing grass. "Plus, we have the sunflower seeds too, you know."

You consider this, head tilting to one side as you watch him work. He did insist on planting the entire packet of sunflowers, and while you'd assumed it was because they were your favorite flower and he was just doing his best to make his wife happy, you hadn't considered that he could have ulterior motives.

"Your birds are more important than me enjoying my flowers now?" you tease, and you smile when he smirks back at you.

"Never."

It's the sound of birdsong that awakens you, some of the first of spring. The robins have returned in the last few weeks, a sign as sure as the melting snow that warmer days were ahead. The house is quiet, though. There's a slight breeze that causes the old structure to creak, but that's about it.

The sun is barely up, soft pastel light filtering into your bedroom as you notice the empty space beside you and the equally empty crib at the foot of your bed. You stand, pulling a blanket around you as you find your way downstairs to where you know you'll find them. It's chilly when you step outside into the morning air and the porch is cool even through the thick socks on your feet, but you barely notice, too distracted by the sight before you.

Joel sits on the front steps, still in his sweatpants that are haphazardly tucked into his heavy boots. His hair sticks up at odd angles and his thick coat is draped over his shoulders, unzipped so he can cradle your daughter against his chest. She's bundled up, too, and while she's more than secure in the harness he's wearing, his hand still holds her close against him.

They're watching the birds, the ones eagerly snacking on the fresh seed the two of them have likely just added to the feeder. Your little girl watches with equally eager eyes as her father explains each of the tiny animals fluttering before you, and you listen as he describes each.

"The robins are a sign of good luck," he explains, and she coos softly as though she understands every word that falls from his lips. "And that one with the red wing over there symbolizes protection."

You shift to sit next to them, leaning against his shoulder without a word. He pauses for a moment to press a kiss to the side of your head, but then continues, pointing out each new set of wings that arrive on the branches.

[louisupdates]

By Ed Power | Sat Nov 30 2024 - 05:15

During the pandemic the songwriter and producer James Vincent McMorrow would rise early, go for a run and write songs for Louis Tomlinson, of One Direction.

“I actually made half of a record for him,” he says. Tomlinson’s team “had a lot of songs but maybe not a lot that he was as into as he wanted to be. I think they were maybe looking for a weirdo. So they reached out to me. I love him. He’s a fascinating human being. I absolutely loved making that album,” adds McMorrow, who is about to start a tour of Ireland.

When it comes to potential collaborators with a boy band megastar, McMorrow’s name is not the first that springs to mind. He’s an indie songwriter whose open-veined, falsetto-driven pop has been compared to that of folkies such as Bon Iver and Sufjan Stevens. But Tomlinson was a fan of the Dubliner’s beautifully wrought music. He wasn’t alone: Drake famously sampled McMorrow on his 2016 track Hype.

One of the tracks they wrote together, The Greatest, would serve as the opener to Tomlinson’s second LP, Faith in the Future. As is often the way with the music industry, the rest are in a vault somewhere. Still, for McMorrow the opportunity to work with a pop star was about more than simply putting his craft in front of a wider audience. The call from Tomlinson’s team had come at a low point for the Irishman, who had become mired in confusion and doubt after signing to a major label for the first time in his career.

Executives at Columbia Records had recognised potential in McMorrow as an artist who bridged the divide between folk and pop. The fruits of that get-together would see daylight in September 2021 as the excellent Grapefruit Season LP, on which McMorrow teamed up with Paul Epworth, who has also produced Adele and Florence Welch.

The album was a beautifully gauzy rumination on the birth of his daughter and the muggy roller coaster of first-time parenthood. It went top 10 in Ireland and breached the top 100 in the UK. Yet the experience of working within the major-label system was strange for McMorrow, who at that point had been performing and recording for more than a decade. He didn’t hate it. But he knew he didn’t ever want to do it again.

“It was a weird time. I stopped touring in 2017. My daughter was born in 2018. I signed with Columbia Records at the same time and made a record that ... There were moments within it I was proud of. But fundamentally, I think if I was being very honest, I would say that I definitely got lost in the weeds of what the music industry wanted for me rather than what I wanted for myself.”

[…]

McMorrow grew up in Malahide, the well-to-do town in north Co Dublin; as a secondary-school student he suffered debilitating shyness. In 2021 he revealed that he had struggled with an eating disorder at school, ending up in hospital (“Anorexia that progressed into bulimia”). He was naturally retiring, not the sort to crave the spotlight. But he was drawn to music. “It was definitely a difficult journey,” he says. He wasn’t alone in that. “The musicians that tend to cut through and make it ... A lot of my friends, musicians that are successful, they’re not desperate for the stage.”

The Tomlinson collaboration was part of his strange relationship with the mainstream music industry. It went back to McMorrow’s third LP, Rising Water, from 2016. A move away from his earlier folk-pop, the project had featured engineering from Ben Ash, aka Two Inch Punch, a producer who had worked with chart artists such as Jessie Ware, Sia and Wiz Khalifa.

That was followed by the Drake sample in 2016 and by McMorrow writing the song Gone, which was at one point set to be recorded by a huge pop star whom he’d rather not identify.

“Gone is the red herring of red herrings in my entire career. I wrote that song for other people. I didn’t write it for myself. The whole reason I signed to Columbia Records and I had all these deals was because of Gone. I was very happy tipping away in my weird little world. And then I wrote that song, and a lot of bigger artists came in to try to take it,” he says.

“I won’t name names. There were recordings of it done. It got very close to being a single for someone else. I would go in these meetings with all these labels, and I would play it for them – just to play. Not with any sense of ‘This is my song.’ And they were, like, ‘You’re out of your mind if you don’t take this song. This is the song that will make you the thing that is the thing.’ And I was, like, ‘You’re wrong.’ For a year I basically was, like, ‘I disagree.’ And if you go in a room with enough people enough times and they tell you that you’re crazy ... I loved the song, but I did not love it for me. I never felt I fit. There was a little part of me that wanted to believe.”

As he had predicted, Gone wasn’t a hit. He received a lot of other strange advice, including that he cash in on the mercifully short-lived craze for NFTs by putting out an LP as a watermarked internet file. All of that was swirling in his brain when Tomlinson got in touch. To be able to step outside his own career was exactly what McMorrow needed.

“With Louis it was like boot camp. I had a very limited time with him. I had to wake up every morning, go for a run, write a song in my head, go to the studio. We made songs all day long. It lit a fire in my head again. I loved the process. I like sitting and talking to someone like Louis, who’s had this unbelievably fascinating lifestyle – so much tragedy in his life,” he says. Tomlinson’s mother and sister died within three years of each other, and his 1D bandmate Liam Payne died in October. “So many things have happened to him. I chatted to him and then write constantly. That was a lovely process.”

Because life is strange and full of contrasts McMorrow ended up working with Tomlinson around the same time that he was producing the Dublin postpunk “folk-metal” band The Scratch, on their LP Mind Yourself. “Totally different animals,” he says. “The Scratch album was an intense period in the studio of that real old-school nature of making music. A lot of fights. A lot of pushing back against ideas. A lot of different opinions. And you have to respect everybody’s opinions and find the route through.”

During his brief time on a major label, McMorrow was reminded of the music industry’s weakness for short-term thinking. In 2019, the business was obsessed with streaming numbers and hot-wiring the Spotify algorithm so that your music posted the highest possible number of plays.

“Everyone was driven by stats. ‘This song has 200 million streams.’ ‘That song has 400 million streams.’ I went into my meetings with Columbia Records ... the day I had my first big marketing meeting was the day my catalogue passed a billion streams, which, for someone like me, who started where I started, was a day where I should be popping champagne corks. Instead they immediately started talking about how they have artists that have one song that has two billion streams. So by their rule of thumb I was half as successful as one song by one artist on their label.”

Five years later he believes things have changed. He points to Lankum, a group who will never set Spotify alight yet who have carved a career by doing their own thing and not chasing the short-term goal of a place on the playlist. They are an example to other musicians, McMorrow says.

“I was in Brooklyn, doing two nights, a week and a half ago. In the venue across the road from where we were, pretty much, Lankum were doing two nights and had [the Dublin folk artist] John Francis Flynn opening for them. Those are two artists that, if you were to look at their stats, you wouldn’t be, like, ‘These are world-beating musicians.’ You start aggregating to this stat-based norm and you miss bands like Lankum, bands like The Mary Wallopers, people like John Francis Flynn.”

McMorrow is looking forward to his forthcoming Irish tour, which he sees as another leg of his journey to be his best possible self.

“The last two, three years have been a process of building it back to a version of me that actually made me happy rather than making me cry at night-time – a version that was making music because I liked it. Within this industry there’s so much outside noise. It’s quite overwhelming. I was overwhelmed. It’s been nice to reset the clock.”

In November 2022, McMorrow posted this now deleted Instagram post:

Text: late 2021 I got a phone call asking me if I wanted to come to London to meet @louist91 and possibly write some songs. A few years ago he released a statement talking about changing his path musically, instead of the immediate search for hits, he’d start with music he genuinely loved and see where it got him. Seems like a simple and obvious thing to say, but considering the amount of people just chasing hits with little regard for vision or artistry, a statement like that struck me when I read it. So I was excited to meet him and see what he was about. First day we met we all wrote Common People, second day we wrote Lucky Again. In December of last year we went back in again, finished those ones, wrote and produced 3 others that are also on this album. It was the studio line-up of dreams, @mrfredball @jmoon1066, @riley_mac. Shouts to Louis for letting us do our thing, letting a dork like me come write some weird lyrics and weird melodies, trust us to shape the vision that he had. These last few years were dark at times, but it was moments like that where I remembered why I’m obsessed w music and why it’s all I’ve ever understood. incredibly proud of the work, Holding on to Heartache is genuinely one of my most favourite songs I’ve ever been a part of.

Also I was reading something about the album and it mentioned something about the gospel choir on the bridge of that song… nah man thats’s just 200 stacked of me singing super super high in the studio out back of Fred’s house😂]

[em-ontv]

What you wanted.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x supe!fem!reader

Summary: you were the newest member of Payback, and despite everything, you stayed, wanting to prove yourself to them, to Soldier Boy. And in the end, you did get what you wanted.

Warnings: angst, violence/death, cursing/language (x2), emotional distress, toxic dynamics with a change of heart, not proofread, english is not my first language

Word count: 1.5k

…

Payback was like a hierarchy, everyone tearing each apart constantly, and you were at the bottom.

As the newest member of the team, you were hopeful, bright-eyed, and eager to prove yourself. Help people, it's what you always wanted, and when given a chance to Payback, of course you took it.

Yet, it didn't take long for reality to strike you.

In the beginning, it was small things. A jab at your ability, mocking your power set. While others on the team could incinerate enemies, bend steel, or slice a man in half with the flick of a wrist, your gift seemed... underwhelming.

You had the ability to project shields, barriers that could defend, you were meant to protect. No one cared about defense in Payback. You weren't flashy, weren't vicious, and most of all, you didn't fit into their mold of what the "perfect supe" in this world should be.

At first, you tried to laugh along with their teasing, play it off like it didn't bother you. But it did. Desperately. You wanted to fit in. You thought joining Payback meant you'd finally have a family, that maybe your powers would be seen as useful. Heroic, even. But they viewed you as weak. Pathetic. Worthless. A "nothing" supe, as Swatto called you during one of their endless group training sessions.

But it wasn't just words.

They'd shove you around, put you in dangerous situations during missions just to watch you squirm. When you tried to prove yourself—tried to show them what you could do—they'd turn their backs or laugh harder. They didn't care how hard you worked, how many times you had thrown yourself into the line of fire, hoping for even a shred of respect.

And Ben?

Ben was different. He barely looked at you in those early days, unless it was to sneer at your constant smiles, your relentless optimism. It grated him. You were too... happy. Too soft for this world. Trying too hard. He couldn't stomach it.

The first time it happened, you didn't even see it coming. A punch, swift and hard, sent you sprawling to the ground. You remembered the words he said to you. How could you forget? "You don't belong here."

You tasted blood in your mouth, your brain disassociated with the world after that. You couldn't hear what he said afterwards.

You felt your vision starting to blur, your eyes starting to sting, but you refused to let him see you cry.

The tears came later, in the dark corners of the compound, when you were alone. You wiped them away, but more took their place. You told yourself tomorrow would be better. Tomorrow, you'd do it. You'd earn his respect.

That tomorrow never came.

Day after day, you were waiting for that tomorrow—when that look on his face would be replaced with something else. But it never happened. And in the worst moments, when his anger flared and he got violent, you didn't scream, didn't fight back—and didn't know how to. You just looked at him. He didn't understand it, but it just seemed to enrage him more. How could someone be so stubborn? So stupid?

But after a while, something changed. Ben started getting used to you. You were like an annoying fly buzzing around—always there, always smiling, even when he put you down, when the team put you down. Those injuries you soothed yourself. He couldn't understand it. Couldn't understand why you stayed.

But you stayed, no matter how many times he tried to break you.

And that did something to him. Slowly. Painfully.

He started to notice things about you. How you could take a punch, but never once raised your fist in return. How you didn't flinch anymore when he shouted orders, your eyes not wide with fear but some kind of... trust. When he lashed out, you didn't look at him like he was a monster. You just looked like you saw something more. Maybe you found something, maybe you found nothing. But you tried. And for the first time in a long time, Ben felt something crack in that cold heart of his.

Maybe he wasn't as invincible as he thought.

But as much as his feelings shifted, his behavior didn't. Not at first. He still pushed you away, still spat insults. And yet, you remained. The team still treated you like a joke. But Ben? He started seeing you differently. There were moments, brief as they were, where he'd find himself watching you, wondering why you still showed up every day. How you hadn't given up yet. It would be so easy to just walk out the door. But no, you didn’t.

What was it about you?

One night, after a mission, you were sitting in the dark, nursing bruises and scratches, trying to stitch up a nasty cut. Ben had found you, watched from the shadows as you silently worked the needle, slow inhales and exhales of your breath in the air.

"Why are you still here?" He muttered, and for the first time, he didn't seem angry.

You looked up, slightly startled by his presence, but you smiled—of course you did. "Same reason as everyone else, I guess. To prove I belong somewhere in the world."

He scoffed softly, shaking his head. "You don't belong here. Not with us."

Those words again. You should've been hurt by that, should've let the words cut deep like they always did, but instead, you just chuckled under your breath, sounding a bit tired. "Maybe not. But I'm not leaving."

Ben didn't say anything for a few seconds, and it seemed like he might just turn and walk away. But instead, he sat down nearby, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. You didn't ask why he stayed, didn't bother to question it. You just continued stitching yourself up.

The turning point happened during a mission. It was supposed to be a simple operation, nothing Payback hadn't dealt with before. But as with most things, nothing went according to plan. Not this time.

The enemies had been waiting. They were ready—prepared with weapons designed to hurt supes, and they were gunning for Soldier Boy. The leader, the face of the operation.

The moment you saw the explosives, something inside you snapped. This was your moment. Your chance to finally show Ben—and the whole team—that you could be more than the punchline they saw you as.

The explosion was coming, fast and unforgiving, and Ben was in the line of fire. He was distracted, too busy ripping apart enemies to see it. But you saw it.

You acted without thinking. Your powers flared to life in an instant, the energy surrounding him like a shield just as the explosives detonated.

The impact was unlike anything you'd ever felt. The force of it knocked the wind from your lungs, and you could feel the burn tearing through your skin, shredding your body. But you held on. You had to.

Your shield absorbed the brunt of the blast, protecting Ben, keeping him safe while it tore you apart. The pain was blinding, sharp, every nerve in your body screamed, but you didn't let go. Not until the danger had passed. Not until he was safe.

And then... the world went quiet.

When he turned around, it was too late. You were on the ground, body broken, barely even recognizable anymore. But even then, your hand was still outstretched, fingers curled as if still trying to shield him. His eyes widened, a strange panic rising in his chest. He dropped to his knees beside you, hands hovering over your form, unsure of what to do.

You weren't breathing.

His chest tightened, his throat dry. He could barely speak.

"Hey... come on, get up," he growled, but his voice faltered. "Get the fuck up right now."

You didn't move. You didn't answer.

Ben's heart pounded in his chest, he felt something close to fear. His voice wavered. "Don't you fucking do this to me… I didn't ask for this.”

He grabbed the front of your suit, shaking you, but it was no use. Your head lolled back, your face bloodied, eyes that were once bright now dull and lifeless.

He stared at you, the weight of it crashing down on him, crushing him, and he felt like he was suffocating.

You had saved him. You—a supe with the power of protection, a supe who Payback thought was nothing. You, who had stood by him even when he'd treated you like nothing. You, who had looked at him with those stupid, trusting eyes. You had proven yourself today, hadn't you?

But you were gone.

The world around him faded into the background. The shouts of his team, the chaos of the mission—everything disappeared. There was only you, lying there, your light extinguished. And as Ben stared at you, he couldn't shake the thought that maybe death wasn't the one that took your light.

Maybe it was him.

And he would have to carry that weight with him for the rest of his life.

In the end, you got what you wanted. You had proven yourself. You had shown Ben—shown everyone—what you were capable of. You saved him, protected him like you always did. But the cost had been your life... and you weren't here to finally see the acceptance that you were a part of the team, a part of Payback. And a part of Ben's heart.

[niyoriix]

Hiii it’s me again! :,) but I was wondering if I can request reed Richard’s and sue storm with a teenage daughter? Headcanons please and thank you! ( ˘ ³˘)

Hi Nice seeing you again! Hopefully this is what you wanted🫡 feel free to req again if I missed it!

Reed & Susan with teen!Daughter

(SideNote: I got carried away..it's pretty long.)

Warnings: Characters probably act OOC and Ig just fluff

⋆.˚ ★—Sue and Reed have always wanted children of their own, they always saw how their long time friends had children and a beautiful family. Now they have one, and they couldn't be happier. Ever since you were born you've been the star of the family.

⋆.˚ ★—Johnny absolutely loves you! Instead of chasing girls and going on those awful interviews, he's with you. Always spending his precious time with you, Spoiling you with gifts(Much to sues dismay since she already spoils you too much..) Ben adores you, the moment he saw you he was in tears, it reminded him of the day his own child was born. He treasured you, always a good person to depend on. Reed, he couldn't help but cry. You were his blood, his child whom he'll love and care for no matter what. He held you with care and love. Sue was full of joy. she had always Wondered what a mix of her and reed would look like, and now she's got her answer. The team loves you more than anything.

⋆.˚ ★—And now you're a teen. Your family was quite sad to see their babygirl slowly growing. It was a mourning moment for them, But they soon got over it and accepted it(Fairly quick lol)

⋆.˚ ★—Reed and sue still sometimes baby you, not often but still a little annoying since you're a teen and don't want to be babied. They've definitely tried to stop those habits though.

⋆.˚ ★—Since you're a teen and probably very extroverted since y'know, your parents are Susan storm and Reed Richards. You're probably very popular and go to A LOT of parties. Johnny supports it but the others don't, they know you can protect yourself but they can't help it, they Don't want you getting hurt.

⋆.˚ ★—In a rare case you DO get hurt. Reed gave you a specially made gadget to diffuse the situation. Once the person tries to threaten you or touch you with ill intent, the gadget will instantly alert nearby officers and alert the fantastic 4 tower. They take your safety very seriously as any other parent would for their child. If you have powers(you probably do) and you have full control or somewhat, their a little more lenient but still somewhat cousious.

⋆.˚ ★—moving on to the more cute stuff! You and sue have very often mommy-daughter dates, going to spas,going to the beach, pottery dates and all sorts of girly things. If you're not very girly then that's fine too! Doesn't matter as she'll accept every part of you.

⋆.˚ ★—You and Reed have a lot of science related daddy-daughter dates. He mostly works with you on your school projects and such, not all of it is science related though. You go on movies dates and building Legos(mostly coming up with your own designs/buildings instead of following instructions.) dates too.

⋆.˚ ★—Since Reed and sue are often busy. So they like to send you little holographic messages through the telecom watch, reed gifted you.

Mom: Hi honey, hope everything's going alright. I'm almost done with work, hopefully In time for Dinner! Lots of love💕

Dad: Hope you're doing good squirt. me and your mom have been thinking about a family vacation this month. Just so we can have some more time together as a family.

⋆.˚ ★—If you were ever interested in anyone, I think although reed is pretty chill I still think he'd be pretty protective. Sue would be delighted though. The person you're seeing needs to prove themselves first, by showing him your safe and being taken care of, also by telling him shitty dad jokes.

⋆.˚ ★—moving on to power related things! If you have sue's power to be invisible, make shields and heal then she'll definitely be the one training you(obviously) or maybe reeds power, OR maybe you have your own separate power. then they'd probably both teach you things, probably doing research on your powers and testing it. They hope your powers are not TOO destructive or will harm you in any way.

⋆.˚ ★—Most likely if you become really good with your powers and able to fight better, then you'd probably be added into the team. unless that's not what you want! They are perfectly fine with you not wanting to join the team and just being a normal human.

Hope you enjoyed¡★have an amazing day or night! Reqs are always open!

[oikarma]

revolving door

pairing: carlos sainz x reader

summary: you don't know why he keeps crawling back to you. love, he explains. he loves you more than anything on the planet. love. maybe that's why you keep choosing to believe him, again and again, even when everything tells you otherwise.

a/n: toxic af don't read if it'll trigger you <3 carlos is, unfortunately, not the best person in this.

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liked by jenniferaniston and others

yourinstagram covey at heart! tbosas is now out in theatres near you, thank you to all the people who have made baby!yn's dream of being in a hunger games adaptation come true <3

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user1 you wanted to be in the hunger games 💀 thats sickening...ew...

user2 fr? user3 be honest with me you probably wanted to as well. that doesn't mean she likes mass slaughter, raising of children to be killers, poverty, etc. she just means the hunger games series was BIG and it would have been cool to be part of it. she is now.

user4 you and tom are so cuteee

user5 dating announcement when?

carlossainz55 Unforgettable. You put on an amazing performance, darling.

yourinstagram i love you beyond words ❤️ user6 what's a racecar driver doing in y/n's likes?? user7 that's her man user6 she has a man 😭 how did i not know this

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yourinstagram winter dump ❄️

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user1 QUEEN I SAW YOU AT DISNEY liked by yourinstagram

user2 was she with carlos? user1 no she was with lewis user3 what user4 y/n's known him for a while too because of nicole. they go WAY back user5 lore drop

user6 stunning. heavenly. ethereal.

user7 what's puppo's name?

yourinstagram wrio! isn't he a cutie ☺️

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f1 BREAKING: Lewis Hamilton to join Ferrari in 2025!

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user1 no.

user2 the world ended when it happened to me

user3 lewis mercedes era over? wtf?

user4 actually in shock rn

user5 wait. so is charles leaving or carlos

user6 prob carlos charles has been raised by ferrari user7 NOOO MY CHILI

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yourinstagram red for dior (and red for my baby)

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user1 ferrari you don't get to be in y/n's likes after dropping her man

scuderiaferrari 🤨 user2 what does that even mean user3 wait.

user4 QUEEN

user5 Once chance please I promise I'll make it worth it

user6 hear me out she's dating lewis

user7 swapping drivers the minute ferrari does? yikes.. user8 told you she was there for clout user9 and literally the DAY it's announced like how much more obvious can you get

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yourinstagram has added to their close friends story

replies

alexandrasaintmleux oh honey, i'm so sorry. i just heard from charles. i'm here if you need a shoulder to cry on 🤍

yourinstagram thanks alex, lysm

lewishamilton Let me know if you want to talk

yourinstagram i just want ben and jerrys but they hired the good ceo or whatever lewishamilton Doesn't Charles have an ice cream brand yourinstagram it's not dairy free lewishamilton It's okay, we don't have to share yourinstagram can we watch a really stupid movie lewishamilton Like a chick flick? yourinstagram yeah but not a romantic one cause i'll cry lewishamilton Got it yourinstagram we've never been on a break before... lewishamilton I know, Y/N. I know.

carlossainz55 I miss you already carlossainz55 has deleted this message

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carlossainz55 🏆P3!! Good start to the season. We have a very good baseline and we'll keep pushing for more! 💪🏻

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user1 bravo, what a good start!

user2 first podium of the year and first of many more to come

user3 😍

user4 guys was y/n in the paddock? i didn't see her

user5 no iirc, but she's been filming Y2K & she has a broadway project soon so i think she's just busy

user6 Tifosi you’re gonna miss this legend. I’m sure.

user7 how is lewis even going to compete with this man...ur loss ferrari...we will follow you everywhere carlitos!

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f1gossipofficial Lewis Hamilton and Y/N L/N spotted out shopping. Just friends?

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user1 y/n girl go back to your man

user2 what a gold digger

user3 no louis vuitton, no lewis hamilton

user4 can't believe she's a cheater i really thought she loved carlos

user5 good for him! he'll be free of ferrari and this bitch

user6 am i the only one that kind of supports this...

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yourinstagram feeling ... Y2K (out in december)

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jaedenwesley Boss ass co-star!! ❤️

yourinstagram hell yeah user wait, are they dating?

user1 that outfit in p2 is EATING

user2 cheater.

user3 can't wait for it to come out

user4 Did you and carlos break up? Yru not liking his posts anymore??

lewishamilton Movie of the year, perhaps?

yourinstagram movie of the decade (hah get it) user5 and they say they're "just friends" user6 the man my gf tells me not to worry about user7 @/user6 well carlos doesn't have to worry anymore pretty sure y/n and lewis are going to make it official soon

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yourinstagram first preview tomorrow! a collective thank you nytimes for these beautiful photos

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user1 KIT CONNOR TOO? WHYS SHE PULLING EVERYONE

user2 she really living her best life

user3 does this mean she won't come to any gps cause she'll be busy on broadway? ☹️

user4 well there's miami so we might see her visiting lewis user5 are we sure they're dating? user6 probably. she hasn't interacted publicly w carlos in AGES, they've unfollowed each other, and she and lewis have been spotted together a lot (which means she's been flying from NY to see him, crazy work)

user7 she looks so sad.

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f1gossipofficial Carlos Sainz spotted with a woman. Have he and Y/N L/N broken up?

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user1 no, no this can't be real

user2 y/n's in new york there's no way that's her user3 so this is why they've been so distant... user4 well she's probably been sleeping around with lewis for months. got a taste of her own medicine

user5 caryn, you were great while it lasted

user6 what a bop

user7 no wonder it's over

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f1gossipofficial F1 it-couple Y/N L/N and Carlos Sainz's first public spotting since 2024. Have the lovebirds made up?

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user1 i'm literally getting whiplash from all the drama surrounding them

user2 i'm so glad they're back together

user3 wasn't he literally with a different girl LAST WEEK

user4 she's glowing oml

user5 and the way he came all the way to ny to attend the premiere with her? it's not even her film...dedication

user6 well miami is next week user7 does this mean we'll see her in the paddock?

user8 what is this relationship 😭 he wasn't even subtle with the cheating tf y/n stop going back to him

user9 is she dating lewis? is carlos cheating? are they back together? PLEASE STOP IM SO CONFUSED.

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liked by charles_leclerc and others

carlossainz55 Today wasn't my day. At the start I went from P2 into T1 to P4 after having to avoid Pérez. Then the Safety-Car came out one lap after I pitted and we lost a chance to lead the race. It is what it is! However, the pace was very strong! On to the next one. 🤍🩵

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user1 2 hearts? on a 5th place? i wonder if his happiness has to do with perchance his girl

user2 looking gooood carlos

user3 a thirst trap? lucky me

user4 y/n's other acc LMAO

user4 oh he looks so good in blue baby

yourinstagram 5 for 55 💙

carlossainz55 55 for you and you alone, mi amor user5 we are so back caryn stans user6 the war is over 🥺

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yourinstagram birds of a feather

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billieeilish will you love me til the day that i die?

yourinstagram my heart's taken, i'm afraid user1 carlos sainz you are. one lucky bastard. user2 oh she's whipped fr

user3 happiness looks good on you

user4 do we realize that he probably took the 3rd picture

user5 blue for ... williams move?

user6 no you're crazy user5 well we thought hamferrari was crazy but whatever.

carlossainz55 ❤️

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yourinstagram snow white in 6 continents + lots of jet lag, but it's all worth it 🍎

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user1 they did you so dirty in the movie 😭

user2 fr the bob...they should've kept her natural hair

user3 lewis's private jet? hm.

user4 carlos not commenting? hm. user5 lots of jet lag? hm. wonder if she's going to silverstone user6 and will it be for lewis or for her Carlos? user7 y'all need to grow up y/n and carlos are DATING and her and lewis have never confirmed being anything beyond friends

alexandrasaintmleux my gorgeous girl <3

yourinstagram see you soon 😉

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f1gossipofficial Y/N L/N spotted at Silverstone.

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user1 the mercedes headpiece?

user2 what happened to carlos? user3 tbf she's known lewis longer user2 but carlos is her BOYFRIEND

user4 people are wild. she said no to a picture and they still decided to post her. smh

user5 well she's a celebrity clearly she wants the attention

user6 what's crazy to me is that even when they unfollowed each other they kept all the lovey comments and posts up

user7 digital footprint who

user8 haven't seen her much in the media. is she just keeping a low profile?

user9 op responded to a similar comment on the twitter thread and said y/n looked like she'd been crying

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lewishamilton YES 🍾🍾🍾 945 days since the last win and it’s finally come home. SILVERSTONE I LOVE YOU. There’s no crowd that deserves this more. This is love, this is family. Thank you all for the love and support. Massive shout to the team as well. Everyone in the garage and back at the factory have given long hard hours for this result. It’s not been easy but it’s brought us back to back wins for the team. Most importantly we didn’t lose hope. We didn’t give up. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU KEEP GOING. STILL WE RISE 🇬🇧🏆❤️ !!!

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yourinstagram words don't convey how proud i am of you ❤️ you come back everytime. world champion in my heart forever. i'll be cheering for you until the end! *liked by lewishamilton

user1 the heart? user2 leave her ALONE how long do i have to defend them being FRIENDS user3 no wonder she was crying oml

user4 it's been a long time coming

user5 EIGHT TIME WDC LEWIS HAMILTON, LADIES AND GENTLEMAN

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f1gossipofficial Carlos Sainz out for dinner with model Rebecca Donaldson.

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user1 i'm sick don't even touch me

user2 he's moving on so fast??

user3 i refuse to believe he does this on his own accord. like y/n must've cheated or something

user4 stop babying a grown man

user5 is this why y/n wasn't in the ferrari paddock at silverstone

user6 Such an upgrade from that cheater

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carlossainz55 P1 in Mexico! 🇲🇽🏆 Winning here in front of this incredible crowd is amazing, thank you all for the support! I enjoyed the race from start to finish, definitely a weekend to remember 🙌🏻 Thank you for the love you have shown me.

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user1 aaaaaaand they're back.

user2 to be fair i would fold for carlos sainz too user3 the way he ran straight toward her even though she showed up mid race like HE KNEW. user4 soulmates.

user5 I don't know whether to be happy or start preparing for the inevitable breakup

user6 smooth operation complete!! congrats 🌶️

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Engines were loud but louder was the pounding in your heart as you stood in a sea of red. The last place you should have been was here, at the Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez, celebrating a man who had broken your heart more times than you could count. But love was never rational and here you were.

You knew the exact moment Carlos spotted you. His celebration faltered for just a second, his breath hitching, before the cameras and his team swarmed him.

He shouldn't have been surprised.

You had always been there, even when you shouldn't have been. Even when he had given you every reason to leave. And God, there had been so many reasons.

The late-night arguments that left you in tears, the hollow apologies that followed, the women whose names you never wanted to know. You had left-more than once. Everyone knew. But Carlos had always found a way to drag you back into his orbit, whether it was a drunken voicemail at 3 a.m. or a quiet confession that he couldn't sleep without you beside him.

By the time he was free from the podium and the press, you were by the barriers, heart in your throat. He didn't hesitate-couldn't. One second, he was weaving through the bodies of Ferrari crew members and the next he's pulling you close the way he always did, positively magnetic, body latching onto yours like it had never left. On his lips, you tasted the kind of desperation that only came with knowing you've been given one last chance.

His fingers curled at your waist. He kissed you like he was trying to prove something: to you, to himself, to everyone who had ever said you were doomed from the start. When you broke apart, your breaths mingling, his forehead pressed against yours, he murmured, "Dios mío. You always come back."

You exhaled shakily, hands fisting against his racing suit. "And you always ruin it."

His jaw clenched, a flicker of something-guilt? longing? love-crossing his face. "Not this time."

You wanted to believe him. You always did.

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a/n: started cute and turned into a trainwreck of a relationship. poor lewis having to put up with all this shennanigans

[cheynovak]

Her soldier - part 2/3

Ben (Soldier boy) x Y/N F/Reader

Summary: 1940s setting, Teenage Ben is head over heels with the 5 year older Y/N. His dad didn't like women like Y/N hard working without a ring on her finger and a free spirit. In his free time he starts helping her out, but will she keep seeing him as a cute kid or will time bring other feelings in the mix?

Warnings: 18+ MDNI!, Slowburn, Implied Spice, talk of virginity, Losing virginity, age gab, Violence, Smoking, Dead, Memoryloss ...

Absolutely. Here’s the next chapter in Ben and Y/N’s slowburn story, set against the backdrop of wartime 1940s:

Winter, 1945 – Philadelphia

The snow had begun to fall just days before Christmas, laying a quiet hush over the city. The streets outside her bar were lined with wreaths and lanterns, glowing soft and golden against the icy wind. Inside, Y/N had set out pine branches along the shelves, hung a single string of tinsel along the mirror behind the bar. It wasn’t much—but it was enough to make it feel like home.

And she waited.

Ben had written, saying he’d be home for a few days—just before shipping off again. His letters were always scribbled in messy ink, filled with half-crossed words and smudges like his hand couldn’t keep up with his thoughts. In the last one, he mentioned a man named Dr. Voughtbaum—though she thought he might’ve misspelled it—and something about "a program." “Special training,” he called it. “Selective, intense. Just for a few of us.”

She could almost hear his voice in the letter. Joking that he was going to come back “strong enough to carry the whole damn bar.” She’d laughed, brushing her fingers over the dried paper, kissing the bottom where he’d signed his name.

Your Soldier.

They had agreed not to marry yet. Ben wanted to do things right—save a little more, come back for good with something to give her. “You deserve a real wedding,” he told her the night before he left the first time, fingers brushing hers over a shared blanket. “Not one squeezed between goodbyes.”

And now, Christmas Eve, she was behind the bar—empty but for a few late drinkers and John, her loyal customer who happened to be a soldier once upon a time. The radio played old carols, soft and low. Snow tapped at the windows.

Then the door creaked open.

Y/N looked up automatically, expecting another regular, maybe one of the neighborhood boys on leave.

But the man who stepped in made her go still.

He was tall. Taller than she remembered. Broad in the shoulders, filled out like a man carved out of marble, wrapped in a thick military-issue coat that clung to his form. Hair darker, slicked back now, and his jaw sharper. Eyes the same—green, and unmistakable.

But it wasn’t the body that stunned her. It was the presence. Like the air changed when he entered the room. Like every eye in the bar turned without knowing why.

“Ben?” she whispered.

He smiled, a little lopsided, like he wasn’t used to how it felt on his new face. “Hey, sweetheart.”

Y/N stepped out from behind the bar without realizing it, staring. “What… what happened to you?”

He laughed under his breath, crossing the room in long, confident strides. “Guess I forgot to mention a few details.”

“You forgot to mention that you look like… a different man.”

He stopped in front of her, glancing down at himself. “The doc said the project would ‘enhance natural potential.’ Said I had the right genetics, whatever that means. Stronger, faster. Better reflexes. Hell, I barely need to sleep now.”

She touched his coat, her hand trailing up his chest slowly, as if to confirm he was real. “You weren’t kidding about carrying the bar, huh?”

He grinned. “Told you.”

Y/N looked up at him, her heart twisting somewhere between awe and confusion. “Ben… you’re still you, right?”

He hesitated, and for just a second, she saw the same boy she used to know—the one who used to carry boxes and ask for a raise he didn’t really want.

“I think so,” he said. “Still yours, if you’ll have me.”

She smiled softly, her hand now cupping the side of his face. “Always.”

Ben leaned forward, kissing her gently—no hunger this time, no storm. Just warmth. Home. A promise exchanged beneath the Christmas lights.

“I’ve only got three days,” he murmured against her lips.

“Then you better come help setting the tree,” she said, tugging his hand. “You look like a superhero now, but you still don’t get to skip chores. Besides it's too heavy for me. And John was no help.” She winked at her very old but very loyal customer.

John nodded to Ben. "Good to see you kid, or should I salute now?"

He laughed "You? Never John." , letting her lead him. And in the quiet that followed, as snow fell gently outside and laughter echoed inside the bar, neither of them spoke the fear buried beneath the surface.

That in this war—this world—three days might be all they get.

The few days they had slipped by in a blur—like snowflakes against warm skin. Ben hadn’t let go of her once, not really. If they weren’t tangled together in bed, they were in the kitchen, Y/N fussing over food while he stole touches at her waist, kisses to her neck. Every moment was precious. Every second felt like it had to last a lifetime.

On the third night, it had begun to snow again. Y/N had taken a late shower, hoping the steam would wash away the quiet ache of knowing what tomorrow would bring. She towel-dried her hair, wrapped herself in one of the old cotton towels, and stepped into the dim hallway, barefoot and warm-skinned from the heat of the water.

She didn’t get far.

Ben was waiting for her just outside the bedroom, shirtless, a towel slung around his own hips. His hair was damp, and his eyes—those same deep green eyes—moved over her like he was trying to memorize the shape of her. Like if he stared hard enough, he could take her with him.

“Ben…” she started, but he didn’t let her finish.

He crossed the short distance between them in one stride, lifted her effortlessly into his arms. She gave a startled gasp, arms going around his shoulders, towel clutched between them. Then her back hit the cool wall, and his mouth was on her throat—warm, open kisses against skin still dewy from the shower.

“You’re not real,” he murmured against her jaw. “You can’t be.”

She laughed softly, her fingers threading through his still-damp hair. “Tell that to my sore legs.”

He grinned at that, tilting his head back to look at her, eyes gleaming. “I just want to make the most of every second.”

“You already are,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him, slow and deep, her body relaxing against his as the kiss deepened.

His hands roamed gently, reverent more than greedy. Her towel was soft beneath his fingers, but he wasn’t in a rush. The way he touched her, held her—it was worship. It was want and wonder wrapped in silk. She felt herself melt into him, the wall at her back, the weight of his body grounding her as the world outside faded.

Rain. Snow. War. It all faded.

Tomorrow he would leave again.

But tonight, he was hers.

“Tell me what you want,” Ben murmured between kisses, his voice a low breath against her lips, hands still steady on her hips.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open. Her fingers traced along his jawline, still damp from the shower, still warm from the closeness between them. “Honestly?” she asked.

He pulled back just enough to look her in the eye. “Yes.”

She inhaled deeply, brushing hair from her face. “I want to talk to you. Before you go.”

Ben froze. The breath in his chest caught like it didn’t know how to move. It was like something tightened inside him—not from rejection, but from fear.

“Y-you still want to marry me… don’t you?” he asked, eyes searching hers in the low light. Y/N blinked, surprised by the crack in his voice. “Of course I do.”

He stared at her like he wasn’t sure if he should believe it.

“I meant,” she continued, pulling him gently down so their foreheads met, “I want to hear your stories. All of them. Not the ones you put in letters. The real ones.”

Ben’s body tensed, jaw tightening. “The real ones aren’t pretty.”

“I don’t need pretty, Ben. I need you. All of you. No matter what they turn you into, or how strong you get, I want to hear it."

He exhaled like it was the first real breath he’d taken since arriving.

Ben pulled her back into bed with him that night, not for passion, but for closeness—for comfort. The room was dark save for the dull glow of the streetlight filtering through the blinds. Their bare skin still held the warmth of shared love, but now they clung to each other for a different reason.

He held her like the world might steal her away, and finally, he spoke.

“The program wasn’t what I thought,” he whispered against her hair. “It wasn’t just training. They… they changed me. Gave me something. Doc called it a ‘serum.’ Said it would make me the ideal soldier. Stronger, faster, harder to kill.”

Y/N’s head lifted slightly from his chest, concern drawing a line between her brows. “Is that why they call you—”

“Soldier Boy,” he finished for her, almost bitterly. “Yeah. I didn’t ask for the name. They’re making posters already, radio ads. They want a hero, not a man. I feel like a freaking kind again... boy. ”

She swallowed, stroking his chest where his heart beat steady beneath her fingers.

“I didn’t want to tell you tonight,” he said quietly. “But I couldn’t lie to you.”

“I don’t want you to go,” she admitted, voice small. “But I’d never ask you not to.”

He held her tighter.

They didn’t sleep much that night. They lay together in the hush between heartbeats and goodbyes, her hand in his hair, his breath warm on her shoulder. Sometimes he’d speak softly about what the scientists did, about how different his body felt, about the things he saw in training. Other times, he was just quiet. And she let him be.

By morning, the sky had gone grey with soft snow. They had left to open het bar.

Ben was dressed in his uniform, fingers brushing down the buttons like he wasn’t quite used to them yet. Y/N stood behind the bar, watching him, already missing him.

“You promised to help with the heavy lifting, you better get back soon.” she teased gently, folding her arms. He grinned, pulling on his coat. “I don’t break promises.”

She walked around the bar and straight into his arms. He kissed her long and deep—memorizing her, tasting every second. Just as they were breaking apart, the door opened.

John stood there—older, weary-eyed, wearing his old army uniform like it was stitched into his skin. He looked between them, nodded slowly.

“Got word you were shippin’ out, Sir.” John said.

John stood tall, spine stiff despite the years. He raised his hand in salute. “Bring our boys home, Sir.”

Ben returned the salute with clean precision. “I will.”

John stepped aside, letting the door fall open to the snowy street. Ben turned back to Y/N one last time. His hand brushed her cheek, lingering there, thumb tracing the edge of her lip.

“I’ll come back,” he said. “And when I do… we’re getting married. No waiting this time.”

Y/N blinked fast, her lips parting in a breathless smile. “You better.”

Then he kissed her—quick and firm—and walked out into the snow.

--

8 months later

The train pulled into Philadelphia, the snow melting into slush on the tracks. Ben barely felt the weight of his bag slung over one shoulder—he was practically vibrating with the thought of her. Y/N. Her voice. Her laugh. Her hands in his hair. Ten long months. Ten long months of dirt, blood, and silence, and all that kept him going were the folded letters in his chest pocket. She’d said she’d wait. And she always kept her word.

He didn’t go home. He went straight to the bar.

The bell above the door chimed like a ghost of the past. But instead of warmth, laughter, and the familiar voice that haunted his dreams, the place was cold. Dim. Still.

Ben stopped in the doorway, eyes scanning the space like it couldn’t possibly be right.

There was a man behind the bar. Older, heavyset, and unfamiliar. Cleaning glasses in the low light.

At the far table, John sat hunched in his usual spot, his weathered hands wrapped around a chipped coffee mug.

Ben approached the bar with measured steps, his voice hoarse from the train and the sudden dryness in his throat.

“Where’s Y/N?”

The man behind the counter looked up. Confused. “Y/N?”

“Yes,” Ben said, sharper now. “The woman who owns this bar.”

The man shook his head slowly. “Sorry, kid. I’ve been running this place a little over two months now. Didn’t get no name like that passed down to me.”

Ben’s stomach dropped. His breath caught like a punch in the chest.

He turned toward John, whose head had slowly lifted. The old man stood, stiff, and brought his hand to his temple in a shaky salute.

“I’m sorry, sir,” John whispered, voice lined with years. His eyes, always sharp and dry, shimmered. Ben stared at him, the room tilting slightly.

“She…” John began, clearing his throat. “She was happy, last time I saw her. Glowing. She was expecting, you know.”

Ben’s lips parted, blood draining from his face. “Expecting… as in…”

“Yes.” John didn’t let him finish. “Six months along, I reckon. Strong, too. Kept carrying those crates like she always did. But one day... She was hauling a barrel—too much for one person. I heard her cry out. Pain."

"She collapsed.”

Ben felt the ground go out from under him.

“I ran, carried her to the hospital. I swear to you, sir, I ran like I was twenty again. But…” John's voice cracked. “There was nothing they could do. Internal bleeding, they said. Something about the child being to strong for her. I don't know what it means... She didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

Ben couldn’t breathe. His hands clenched at his sides. The room spun, spinning, until all he could see was her smile, her hair sticking to her face in the rain, her whisper against his chest: “I promise I’ll be here.”

“No,” Ben growled, stepping back. “No, you’re wrong. She promised. She—she promised me.”

John didn’t say a word. Just watched as Ben stumbled back from the bar, hand against the doorframe.

It felt like the world cracked in half.

His heart thundering in his ears. “No,” he muttered, shaking his head like he could reverse the words. “No, you’re wrong. She promised me. She promised she’d wait.”

John’s voice cracked. “She did.”

Ben’s jaw clenched. The veins in his neck stood out as his breathing grew shallow. “She was pregnant. You’re telling me she was carrying my child and she didn’t say a goddamn word?!”

“She wanted to tell you, son,” John said gently, his eyes brimming. “Had a letter written out." John handed Ben the crumpled letter. "Said she didn’t want to burden you while you were fightin’ overseas. She was gonna wait until you came back. Wanted to see the look on your face.”

Ben took two shaking steps backward, then suddenly slammed his fist into the wall beside the doorway. Wood cracked and splintered under the force. The whole bar went silent.

“She should’ve told me!” he shouted, eyes blazing, voice hoarse with the kind of hurt that goes down to the bone. “I would’ve come back. I would’ve dropped everything, John! I would’ve been there!”

John didn’t flinch. Just looked at him with heavy sorrow. “I know. She knew too.”

Ben’s breathing grew heavier. His knuckles dripped blood from where they’d torn against the plaster and wood, but he didn’t care. He leaned forward, bracing his arms against the cracked wall, chest heaving.

“I left her,” he whispered. “I left her to die… alone.”

“You didn’t know—”

“I should’ve known!” he roared. “I felt it! Every goddamn night I was over there I felt like something was off, and I—I told myself it was just the war. Just the distance. But she needed me and I wasn’t here.”

John moved slowly toward him, laying a weathered hand on his shoulder.

“I buried her myself,” he said quietly. “Didn’t trust no strangers to do it right. She’s in the old cemetery. Took me days to find a stone I thought she’d like.”

Ben stared forward, eyes burning. “And the baby?”

John swallowed hard. “Buried them together.”

Silence fell, heavy and thick. The only sound was the wind brushing past the front windows and Ben’s broken breathing.

Then Ben pulled away, bloodied hand dragging down his face.

“I’m not a soldier,” he muttered. “I’m a coward. That serum didn’t make me strong. Just made it easier to run.” He turned toward the door, barely able to see through the tears blurring his vision.

“Where are you going?” John asked.

“To see her,” Ben whispered. “To tell her I’m sorry.”

--

1975 – Vought Museum of American Heroism

The crowd buzzed with excitement, flashes snapping from every angle. Soldier Boy stood tall in front of his own likeness, thirty years of curated greatness on display, but his mind wasn’t there. It never really was, not anymore.

He had his arm slung lazily around Crimson Countess, half-smirking, half-dead behind the eyes. The serum high throbbed dully in his veins, taking the edge off just enough to keep him upright. She leaned in to whisper, sugar-sweet and sharp: "Try to look like you're enjoying this, babe."

But he barely heard her. Something… someone had caught his eye.

Across the room, framed by one of the high arching windows, stood a woman.

Not just any woman.

She hadn’t aged. Or barely had. A decade maybe, not four. The world around her looked older, harsher, faded by time. But she didn’t.

His chest squeezed like a vice.

It couldn’t be.

But it was.

The angle of her shoulders. The curve of her mouth. The way her hand reached to gently touch the edge of a photo on the wall.

“Y/N,” he whispered.

Before he could move, Crimson Countess tugged on his arm, pulling his attention toward the cameras. "Come on, they're waiting for the speech."

When he turned back, she was gone.

After the speeches and more forced smiles, Ben pushed past handlers and fans, searching the museum like a man possessed. Room by room, exhibit by exhibit, until—

A door. Slightly ajar. Marked PRIVATE – STAFF ONLY.

He didn’t hesitate.

He stepped inside.

The room was quiet. Dim. A private stock, it seemed—less glitz. On the far wall, a large oil painting hung: A powerful man seated on a throne-like chair. A woman at his side, her hand on his. A baby held gently in her lap.

And there—standing in front of it, motionless—was her.

Ben swallowed hard. “Y/N?” His voice cracked in the silence.

She turned slowly.

Her eyes filled with tears the moment she saw him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, breathless. “I know I shouldn’t be here…” He took a step closer, every instinct screaming to grab her, to hold her, to not let go again. "Y/N, It's really you."

But when she looked up at him—truly looked—her expression shifted. Blank. Unfamiliar.

She didn’t know him.

“I… D-Do I know you, sir?” she asked gently, her voice trembling, eyes confused.

Ben froze, the world tilting beneath him. “It’s me,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Ben.”

She flinched at the name like it meant nothing. “I’m sorry, Soldier Boy… sir,” she added quickly. “I think you have the wrong person.”

Then she turned and walked away, her dress brushing past him like a memory he couldn’t hold on to.

Ben stood there, alone in the quiet room, staring at the portrait.

A king. His queen. And their child.

--

Ben didn’t think—he reacted.

His boots echoed across the polished marble floor as he chased after her. "Y/N—wait!"

She moved faster, head ducked, avoiding stares as she tried to slip through the side hallway, but he caught her just before she reached the exit. His hand gripped her arm—not hard, but enough to make her freeze.

She yelped, spinning around. “Let go of me!”

“Please,” Ben breathed, staring into her face. “Just… just look at me.”

“I have!” she snapped, cheeks flushing with frustration and something deeper. “And I told you—I don’t know who you are.”

Ben’s chest heaved. His voice cracked under the weight of the years, the pain, the confusion. “Think, Y/N. Just try. Do you remember anything? Anything at all?”

Her mouth opened, ready to retort, but no words came.

Something flickered in her eyes. She staggered a half step back. “I…” she began, voice suddenly small. “I don’t… I don’t know anything.”

Ben softened, letting her go, but didn’t step back.

“I woke up,” she said slowly, swallowing hard, “in a room. Cold as death. Fluorescent lights. Metal walls. Like a hospital, but not one I’ve ever seen.” Her hands shook now. “I was alone. No windows. No calendar. Nothing. Just voices behind glass asking me questions. For weeks.”

Ben’s fists clenched.

“They said I was sick. That they were helping me.” She shook her head, ashamed. “But I don’t remember getting sick. I don’t remember anything. I don’t even know how old I am.”

Ben was silent, staring, heart pounding against his ribs like it wanted out.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, time-worn photo. Faded, edges curled. Her. Behind the bar, a glass in her hand, laughing at something just out of frame.

He handed it to her, hands trembling.

Y/N looked down at it. Blinked. Then again. Her fingers touched the surface.

“…This is me,” she whispered.

“Yes,” Ben said softly. “That’s you. You were everything. My home. My future.”

She looked back up, tears in her eyes, voice shaking. “What happened to me?”

Ben’s jaw clenched.

Crimson Countess' heels clicked sharply against the floor, echoing like a warning shot.

Ben turned just as she came into view, arms crossed tight over her chest, her face unreadable but eyes narrowed with suspicion. “There you are,” she said coolly. “Everyone’s looking for you.”

She spotted Y/N behind him, her eyes flicking between the two.

He looked stricken, unsure, caught between two lives that had never been meant to intersect again.

Then she gently took his hand—the one holding the old photo—and flipped it over. With careful handwriting, she wrote an address on the back.

“Come find me. When you’re alone,” she said softly. “Please.”

Ben nodded, silent, eyes never leaving hers as Crimson rolled her eyes behind him. “This some old girlfriend you forgot to tell me about, hero?”

Ben didn’t answer. He watched Y/N slip through a staff door and vanish into the quiet.

Days Later

Ben stood outside a modest brownstone in a quiet part of the city, nerves buzzing under his skin like static. The photo was folded in his pocket, now softened by years and something new—hope.

He visited the next day.

Then the next.

And again.

They started with coffee. Then tea. Then shared silence, soft smiles. She always had something playing on the radio, something slow and old—like the music never changed for her.

Over time, they fell into a rhythm.

She made lunch.

He helped fix the loose tiles on her kitchen floor.

She asked about the war.

He told her everything—almost.

He told her about the program. About the injections. About Dr. Vought, and the way his bones felt like they were made of steel now. How strong he became. How fast. How empty.

But not the baby.

He couldn’t tell her that. She wasn’t ready to hear that story. He wasn’t ready to tell her.

Instead, he told her about her old bar. About the jukebox she used to kick when it jammed. About how she used to call him “her soldier.” How she’d laugh, always with that same soft crease by her right eye.

Sometimes, she'd blink slowly like she could almost remember. Almost feel it.

She never asked why he looked at her the way he did. Maybe she already knew. Maybe she felt it too.

But Ben waited. Like he had before. She will fall for him again he just knew it.

He stood on her stoop just as the sun sank behind the city skyline, casting everything in gold and rose.

A bundle of flowers in his hand—lilies and wild roses, the kind she used to keep behind the bar in an old mason jar. She never remembered it, but he did.

She opened the door in her robe, her hair pinned loosely and her cheeks pink from the warm bath.

“It’s your birthday,” he said simply.

Her brows knit. “I… I didn’t know.”

“You never celebrated it. Even back then,” he said softly, smiling like it hurt. “So we’re changing that tonight. Put on something fancy.”

Her eyes narrowed with a smile. “Like what?”

“Something red,” he said. “You used to look real good in red.”

She came down twenty minutes later in a deep crimson dress that hugged her just right. Her hair curled and pinned like she’d stepped out of a dream—his dream.

He forgot how to speak for a second. She tilted her head at him.

“What?” she asked, playful but uncertain.

Ben offered her his arm. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

He had requested a quiet table in the back of one of the few places left that didn’t have blaring TVs or flashing lights. Just candlelight and soft music. A little old-world charm.

They sat close.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled under the low light.

But the peace didn’t last.

People recognized him. Whispered. One brave fan walked up, and Ben smiled politely, signed the damn napkin, but his jaw was tight. The second time it happened, he flagged the waiter and growled something low—“Keep 'em away tonight.”

Y/N just smiled gently. “I don’t mind.”

But he did.

He wanted this night for her. For them. Not for Soldier Boy. Not for the world. And then he heard it. Two men at a nearby table, voices hushed but not nearly enough.

“…Crimson Countess waiting at home and he’s out with her?”

“Scandalous. Look at her—dressed so cheap.”

Ben’s fist curled under the table, white-knuckled. Y/N heard them too.

She didn’t flinch. But her hand slid gently over his. He looked at her. Softly, like she was something breakable. Sacred. “I don’t care what they think,” she said. “Only what you think.”

That calmed him. Barely.

But the look in his eyes when he watched her across the candlelit table, the way his thumb traced the inside of her wrist when the waiter brought dessert—that told her something.

Ben’s hand drifted from the stem of his wine glass to hers, brushing her fingers with the callused pads of his thumb. He hadn’t meant to look, not really. But he saw it.

That small, simple golden ring on her right hand.

It wasn’t flashy. Not the kind people noticed. But he did.

He always did.

His smile was slow and sad. Bittersweet.

“You still wear it,” he murmured, voice barely more than breath.

Y/N blinked, confused for a second, until he gently lifted her hand closer to the candlelight. The gold caught the flame’s glow. He turned the ring slowly between his fingers like it was something sacred.

“This,” he said, voice a little tighter now. She looked at him then, something flickering in her expression—like a shadow in a mirror, a glimpse of a half-remembered dream.

“I gave you this,” Ben said, soft, not as a question.

And her breath caught.

For a moment—just one flicker—her memory slipped. A vision like lightning behind her eyes. A man on one knee. Her hands trembling. That very same ring, small and warm, nestled in a palm rough from labor, held out with more love than she ever thought she’d deserve.

She gasped and pulled her hand back suddenly, like the ring had burned her.

“Y/N?” Ben asked, straightening in his seat.

Her face had drained of color. She stared at the ring, heart racing, lips parted as if she were still caught in that memory. It had felt so real. Ben leaned forward, concern painted in every line of his face. “Hey… what's wrong?”

She shook her head slowly, but her voice cracked. “I saw something. Just now.”

“What did you see?”

“I—” She looked at him, truly looked at him. Her eyes glossy, pupils wide. “You were younger. You… knelt. You were asking me to… to marry you.”

Ben froze.

His chair scraped as he stood slowly, walking around to kneel next to her. “You remember,” he whispered, trying not to let too much hope bleed into it.

“I don’t know,” she said, tears on the edge. “It came and went so fast.” He took her hand again, this time not for the ring—but to steady her. And maybe steady himself.

“I meant it back then,” he said. “I still do.”

Y/N’s voice trembled as she spoke, the ring still cold between her fingers. “This is all… too fast.” Ben stilled beside her, shoulders tensing.

“I believe you,” she said, quieter now. “I believe we knew each other. That we meant something to each other. But—”

She turned to him, eyes brimming with emotion and something she didn’t have a name for yet. “I don’t know what I felt for you back then, Ben. I don’t even know who I was.”

He wanted to speak. Say something to anchor her. But she kept going.

“You are kind. You’ve helped me a lot these past few weeks. And I—I care about you. I do. But all this?” She held up her hand with the ring. “You’re telling me we were engaged. That we were in love.” Her voice cracked on that last word, and she swallowed it back. “You’ve had years to hold onto that. I haven’t.”

Ben sat back slowly in his chair. He didn’t look away. He couldn’t. “You’re right,” he said finally, quietly. “You’re right, and I’m sorry.” She looked startled—maybe expecting a protest. A plea.

“I didn’t mean to throw it at you like that,” Ben said, running a hand through his hair, his voice hoarse. “You deserve the time to feel it. To remember. Not just because I tell you it happened.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered.

He gave a bitter laugh and rubbed the heel of his palm against his chest like something there ached. “A little too late for that, sweetheart.”

Silence fell between them again.

Then, gently, he reached out and touched her hand to make her stand, "Let me take you home." She could hear the pain in his voice.

Ben stood with her outside her house, the quiet hum of the city dim behind them, the night pressing close around the two of them. He kept his distance, hands in his coat pockets, jaw tight from holding in too much.

She turned toward him at the door, hesitating. Her heart was tugging in too many directions—confusion, guilt, curiosity—but one thing was clear: seeing the look in his eyes earlier tonight, the hurt he tried so hard to hide, that broke something in her.

Without thinking, her hand lifted to cup his cheek.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Before he could respond, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the other side of his face. Her lips lingered for just a second longer than polite. That was when she remembered the scent, a blend of musk with oranges and a sweet touch of lavender and grapefruit.

Their faces hovered close. Breath mingled. His green eyes searched hers, hesitating—waiting. He didn’t move, but she saw his glance flicker down to her mouth.

It was like the very first time they stood at her front door. On instinct she leaned in. A barely brush of lips. Gentle. Tentative. Her eyes closed, like she was afraid to see what she’d done—but then—

Flash.

A memory. Sharp and sudden. Her fingers in his hair. The scent of rain. A hand pressed to her cheek. The heat of a kiss that had stolen her breath in another lifetime.

She gasped softly, her lips still brushing his. Eyes flew open, meeting his again. Ben's breath hitched, sensing something shift.

“Y/N?” he asked, voice low, urgent.

She stared at him, dazed. “I remember,” she whispered. “The rain… you kissed me in the rain. I—” Her hand found the center of his chest. “You kissed my fingers. And my palm. I—God, I felt that.”

Ben’s heart thundered. “You ran after me, in the rain." she said, like reciting a dream aloud. “And I... I kissed you.” A smile broke across Ben’s face, disbelieving.

“I remember... us.” she said, voice cracking. “Pieces of it. I don’t understand all of it, but... I think I loved you.” Ben closed the space between them again, pressing his forehead to hers.

She didn’t pull away.

She stayed close, hand still on his chest, like it might keep the pieces from falling apart again.

And this time, when he kissed her, it wasn’t about the past or what might come next. It was about now.

Ben paused at the threshold of her apartment, glancing back one last time at the quiet street behind him. The cold of the night still clung to his coat, but her touch—her kiss—lingered warmer than any fire.

“Let’s not rush,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

She nodded, her expression soft, unreadable. But just as he turned to leave, her hand reached out, wrapping around his wrist.

“Stay,” she pleaded, barely louder than breath.

He froze. Turned to look at her.

There wasn’t hunger in her eyes, not the kind he was used to. Not lust. This was something deeper—curiosity, comfort... maybe even trust. He said nothing, just gave a small nod and followed her inside.

She didn’t reach for him again. She didn’t need to.

The room was dim, shadows stretched long across the wooden floor. She moved wordlessly, kneeling near the old fireplace across from the bed. Ben watched her from where he stood near the door, his fingers twitching slightly, unsure what to do with himself.

Flames sparked to life, golden and soft, casting her in amber light. She looked up at him over her shoulder.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she said gently.

Still hesitant, Ben walked to the bed and sat back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him, arms folded loosely. He didn’t take off his coat, not yet—like he wasn’t quite convinced this was real.

She disappeared into the small bathroom. The sound of running water echoed faintly, the creak of pipes familiar and oddly calming.

Ben looked around the room. It was so her. Simple, worn in, with little things that made it home: a half-burned candle on the nightstand, a book turned over to mark the page, a blanket folded at the foot of the bed.

He rubbed his palms together, the heat from the fire slowly thawing the chill in his bones.

Then, the bathroom door opened. She stepped out, wrapped in a long knit sweater, the sleeves covering her hands. No makeup. No glamour. Just her.

And she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He didn’t move. He didn’t want to spook the moment.

A breath of a laugh slipped from her lips, light and teasing. “You planning on wearing that coat the entire evening, soldier?”

Her voice carried warmth, but that word—evening—landed differently. Ben caught it. Evening. Not night.

Not stay.

He blinked once, lips parting like he was going to say something, but didn't. Just nodded a little, letting the weight of the coat finally fall from his shoulders as he shrugged it off and draped it over the foot of the bed.

She didn’t say anything more. Instead, she moved to the opposite side and slowly climbed into bed, pulling the blanket around her like she’d done it a hundred times. Like it wasn’t something strange or new. She turned her back to him, her face toward the fire, quiet again.

After a few moments, she looked over her shoulder. “You don’t have to stay on the edge.”

He swallowed, then shifted closer. Sat beside her. She reached back and took his hand, guiding it around her waist. He followed. Carefully. Reverently.

No rush. No assumptions.

Just warmth.

Ben’s breath evened out behind her, warm against the nape of her neck. His hand, resting gently on her waist, moved without thought—an instinct older than memory. His thumb brushed lazy circles into her side, a soft comfort.

It felt like home.

And maybe he hadn’t realized how much he missed that feeling—until now.

His hand shifted slightly, drifting upward with the slow rhythm of his breath. When his thumb skimmed the edge of her breast, it wasn’t on purpose. Just a part of being too close. But she stilled for a moment. Not in protest—more like surprise.

Then, she exhaled. A soft, deep sound—like something inside her let go.

She didn’t move away.

Instead, she leaned back into him, her body seeking more of his warmth. His presence. The strength of him surrounding her like a shield against the cold of everything else. Against the ache she didn’t realize had been lingering, hidden just beneath the surface.

Ben didn’t push. Didn’t speak.

He just held her.

His thumb stayed still now, resting lightly, not venturing further. His lips brushed the back of her shoulder, not a kiss, just the weight of him grounding her in the present. She closed her eyes, letting the rhythm of the fire and his breathing lull her into stillness.

She didn't say anything, but the way her hand found his and held it tighter—fingers threading like a silent thank you—said enough.

--

Ben lay still, hardly breathing, as if moving too much might shatter the fragile stillness of the morning. The fire had dimmed to a faint amber glow, soft shadows flickering across the walls. The room smelled of smoke, and her—sweet and warm, like something you only find once and never again.

Her fingers still curled around his, cradled against her cheek as she slept. In the quiet, he let his eyes wander—her lips barely parted, her lashes casting delicate shadows. She looked so peaceful, so small curled up against him, tucked under the covers like a secret kept safe.

His arm, pinned across her chest, rose and fell with her breath. She was pressed close enough that he could feel her heartbeat thrum soft and steady beneath his skin. And without thinking, without needing to, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to the curve of her neck.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, barely audible, a thought spoken into the hush between them.

She shifted slightly, a small sigh escaping her as she stirred. Then she turned, slow and instinctive, nestling into him. Her face found his chest, cheek resting over his heart like it belonged there. Her hand slid lower, still holding his.

Ben stared at the ceiling for a moment, overwhelmed by the quiet intimacy of it all. No fire. No war. No fans. No past between them.

Just her. Just now.

He closed his eyes, pulling her just a little closer, careful not to wake her.

Ben had drifted back to sleep, his breath deep and steady, lips slightly parted. Y/N lay beside him, eyes wide open, tracing the rise and fall of his chest under the thin cotton of his shirt. Something about the early light filtering through the curtains made everything feel surreal—like waking in a memory that hadn’t quite ended.

Her fingers moved on their own. Tentative. Curious. They slipped under the fabric, brushing against the warmth of his skin. The boy in her dreams had been smaller, less solid. But this? This was new to her, or was it?

She let her hand trail lower, resting briefly at the band of his pants before—

"I'm not responsible for what happens if you keep going," Ben murmured, voice thick with sleep and something else. A sly smile tugged at his lips, eyes still closed.

Y/N nearly jumped, pulling her hand back, her cheeks burning—but he rolled over, gently grabbing her wrist to keep her from going too far.

"But please," he whispered against her ear, breath warm. "Do continue."

She let out a laugh—half nerves, half flustered delight—but when she glanced down and caught sight of him fully awake now in more ways than one, her face went crimson.

"Ben!" she scolded, pulling the covers around herself as she quickly sat up, trying to hide her smile. He laughed, stretching, arms behind his head like he hadn’t just turned her insides into fluttering chaos. "What? Just being honest."

She shook her head, getting out of bed to find her robe. "You are trouble," she mumbled, still blushing.

"And you," he said, sitting up and watching her with that smirk that had gotten him out of more trouble than she'd ever admit, "are still the only one I ever wanted to be trouble for."

Her heart ached a little at that. But in the best way.

--

The scent of coffee filled the small apartment, warm and grounding. Y/N had made toast, scrambled eggs, and sliced up some fruit, setting everything between them as they sat close at the small kitchen table, legs brushing occasionally under the wood.

Ben looked… content. Messy-haired and bare-footed, his shirt a little wrinkled, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He was about to say something—some joke, probably—when she reached for the remote and turned on the TV.

Her smile faded almost instantly.

The screen showed grainy, stylized footage: “The Legend of Soldier Boy: America’s First Superhero.” Then came a segment on his “epic romance” with Crimson Countess. The narrator's voice, smooth and dramatic, spoke of a "passionate, high-profile love that captivated the nation."

Ben winced the moment her name was mentioned, chewing slower.

Y/N didn’t look at him at first. She just stared at the TV, spooning yogurt without really tasting it.

Then quietly, "Do you love her?"

He didn’t answer right away. That silence was louder than the documentary.

She finally met his eyes.

He exhaled, long and low. "Not the way I love you."

Her breath caught. Her chest rose and fell too fast. But then—

"But you did?"

His gaze dropped to his plate. "Yeah," he admitted, voice flat. "I did. Or... I thought I did. It was complicated. I needed someone—anyone—to fill a space that shouldn't have been empty."

Y/N looked down, her fingers tightening around her coffee mug.

"But it wasn’t you," he said quietly, almost desperate. "It was never really about her. It was me trying to forget you. She didn’t even come close."

She stayed silent, not sure what hurt more—the fact that he loved someone else or the idea that she had unknowingly been haunting his every step. A ghost in a heart that never got the chance to say goodbye.

Ben reached across the table, his hand gently covering hers.

"Please," he whispered, "don’t look at me like that. Like I don’t know the difference now."

Y/N blinked hard. The documentary still played behind them, but it felt like another lifetime.

She slowly pulled her hand back—not rejecting, just needing space—and stood up, walking over to the window.

"You weren’t the only one who had to fill an empty space, Ben," she said without looking back. "I just didn’t have the luxury of needing someone, I was trying to remember who I was "

Ben watched her back as she stood by the window, arms folded, spine stiff. The sunlight touched her like it knew her better than he did. And maybe now, it did.

He stepped closer. “So… what you're telling me is… there was no one else?” he asked, voice rough.

Y/N didn’t answer. Her silence said more than words.

Ben blinked. “You must’ve had someone,” he said, less certain this time. “Some relationships… in all those years?”

Still nothing. Just the hum of the TV in the background and the quiet tick of the clock on the wall.

“Come on,” he pressed, eyes narrowing as confusion laced his voice, “I was gone, you didn’t remember me, and you were you—someone must’ve—”

She turned slightly, enough that he could see her profile.

“No one,” she said finally. Calm. Too calm.

Ben swallowed hard. His stomach dropped like a stone.

She turned her eyes toward him now. There was no anger. Just the weight of time, and something like quiet sadness. “What happens next?” she asked. “Are you staying?”

He shifted, caught off guard. “It’s not that easy,” he admitted. “There’s Vought. The PR. They’ve built a whole thing around me and… Countess. Having mistresses was easier to sell than a breakup. I was told to play along.”

Y/N’s jaw tensed. She nodded once, backing up. “Okay,” she said quietly, brushing past him.

Ben turned, following her. “Wait—what? That’s it?” She walked toward the hallway. He quickened his steps, the frustration bubbling up. “Why are you so upset?”

She didn’t answer. She kept moving.

“Y/N,” he said, desperate now. “You never told me you wanted me back. You said you needed time.”

She reached the bathroom door, turning halfway to face him, eyes unreadable.

“I do,” she said, voice cracking just slightly. “I did. But you… still belong to her, and what I feel has no impact what so ever on your life so just... leave me alone for a moment, please.”

Then she stepped inside and closed the door between them.

The soft click of the latch made his heart ache more than any battlefield ever had.

Ben waited. An hour. Maybe longer.

He stood outside the bathroom door, head bowed, listening to the quiet except for the soft, stifled sounds of her crying on the other side. Every second stretched like it was trying to pull him apart.

He touched the wood with his knuckles gently. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” he said low, the pain thick in his throat.

No answer.

No sound.

Just the quiet hum of heartbreak.

He left.

The mission with Crimson Countess was brutal. Not the fight—Ben handled that with the same brutal efficiency he always did—but the cameras, the lights, the performance. After they were declared victorious, the crowd roared. A flashbulb went off as Countess pulled him in and kissed him for the press.

The image hit the news cycle before the blood even dried.

What they didn’t show was Ben shoving her off, jaw clenched like steel. The camera shattered under the weight of his fist, the photographer scrambling away, clutching his ruined equipment.

Countess hissed, “What the hell is wrong with you?” Ben barely looked at her. “It’s over.”

“You can’t just say that,” she snapped, eyes wide with fury. “We’re a brand, Soldier Boy.”

“I’m not your prop,” he growled. “Screw your brand.” She screamed after him, threats laced in every word—but Ben was already walking away.

The next morning, Ben showed up at Y/N’s place early. A bouquet of flowers in one hand, hope clinging to the other. But something was wrong.

The door was slightly ajar. He stepped inside slowly. “Y/N?” No answer. The apartment was cold. Silent.

His heart dropped as he noticed the overturned chair, a shattered glass on the kitchen floor. A lamp broken near the couch. It looked like there had been a struggle.

“Y/N?” he said louder now, the panic rising.

Nothing.

Ben moved through the space like a soldier clearing a building. Every room empty. Her things gone or scattered.

He found the small golden ring she used to wear on the floor.

No note.

Just the terrible feeling that he’d been too late.

Again.

--

Taglist Jensen:

@jackles010378 @libby99hb @winchesterwild78 @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @deans-baby-momma @ancles @tulipsvanilla @thesilmarillionblog @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @kr804573 @kamisobsessed @hobby27 @globetrotter28 @kindollss @muhahaha303 @shadysoulangel @lyarr24 @spxideyver @impala67rollingthroughtown @panickedbitch @deansimpalababy @livya99 @yvonneeeee @ladykitana90 @stoneyggirl2 @imsiriuslyreal @panickedbitch @roseblue373 @n-o-p-e-never @ariasong11 @lmpala1967 @sherlockstrangewolf @spnaquakindgdom @writtenbyhollywood @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @healojane @star-yawnznn @cevansbaby-dove

[rockrosethistle]

A list of Nightmare Time episode ideas that I thought of and I think would be cool:

1.) Mr. Chasity has been trying to sell the old Waylon Place for far too long. After trying and failing over and over, he decides to take matters into his own hands by going in himself to see what all the fuss is about. But nothing could have prepared him to meet the real ghosts of Waylon Hall. And boy oh boy do they have shenanigans in store. (The episode would be called 'Unholy Ghost') .

2.) It's been a few months since Hatchetfield was destroyed in that awful 'accident'. Emma and Paul have been living under the aliases Kelly and Ben Bridges. (there can be a joke where Emma doesn't even pretend to care about her alias and Paul cares too much.) They live in Colorado now. Emma's finally started her pot farm, and Paul is working in marketing. For the most part, they have a good life. Only Paul's acting a bit different lately. Emma caught him humming company jingles, tapping his foot to a beat she can't hear. Maybe those spores he inhaled had some effect on him. It's probably nothing, but he's never sung in the shower before...(I don't have a name for this one yet.) .

3.) Max Jägerman is failing remedial algebra. In fact, he's doing so poorly that his dad shells out and hires him a tutor, PJ. (Bryce's nerd from 'Literal Monster.) He reluctantly lets her help him. At first it seems to work and his grades are rising steadily, but as PJ lets her guard down, Max starts to notice some things. Strange symbols scribbled in the margins of her notebook, almost like...jagged smiles? Weird stains on her hands, when she gets too close she smells like roadkill. And there's this white spider that keeps showing up in his room. Sometimes he feels like it's trying to tell him something. Or warn him. Without knowing what he's gotten himself into, Max has to evade getting his soul swallowed by a hungry god of darkness. (The episode is called 'Dirty Dude Soup') .

4.) Charlotte Sweetly is jealous. Her church friend, Carol Davidson, has exactly the kind of life she wants. Charlotte's seen the way her boss talks about his wife, and would give anything for Sam to feel that way about her. One day, Charlotte finally gathers her courage and asks her how she does it. Carol takes pity on her, and decides to reveal an important secret: it's all the product of a ritual, an ancient spell she stumbled upon on a trip to an amusement park. She claims that ever since she did it, her husband can't get enough of her. "I am all he sees. He calls me the apple of his eye." Charlotte doesn't believe her at first, but Carol gave her the instructions, and why the hell not? She tries it. Unfortunately, Charlotte messes up the wording. The spell still works, but not quite as intended. And an all-seeing police officer could be a good thing, but Sam is not a good police officer. (maybe let's call this one 'Omnipocop'. But that's awful to spell so suggestions are welcome) .

5.) While trying to be an assistant, Steph accidentally botches one of Pete's science projects. He forgives her, but she still feels bad even as he assures her it's no big deal, throwing the mix of chemicals out his window just to prove it. What he doesn't know is that the last family that lived in the Spankoffski house buried their dog in the backyard, and Pete's chemical slurry just brought it back to life. On a probably unrelated note, Paul has been trying to ignore the damage he's finding in his apartment. He's been chalking most of the tipped over garbage cans and torn apart cushion up to rats--giant rats?--or maybe a squirrel. But when a decades-old "missing dog" poster shows up on his doorstep, he can't ignore the truth for any longer. (the episode would be called "Patches' Revenge" and I thing it would work because it's just the right amount of weird. It would end with Paul teaming up with the nerds to defeat undead Patches with science.) .

6.) To his utter delight, Miss Holloway finally agreed to go out with Duke on a proper date. Nothing huge, just some ice cream and a walk on the beach. They're both enjoying themselves when Miss Holloway hears something. Duke can't hear it, but he still follows her down the shore to some kind of cave grotto, where she claims the noise is coming from. She tosses a pebble into the water, testing how it might react. A few moments later, the pebble come flying out again. Duke is stunned, but Miss Holloway tosses her ice cream cone. Sure enough, a few moments later is comes flying back, perfectly dry. They've clearly discovered something, and over the next few days, Duke and Miss Holloway experiment and try to learn about the grotto and the water in it. It's too deep to see the bottom, so their tests mostly involve tossing different things to see how they'll react. Little do they know, there was a reason Miss Holloway could hear a noise coming from the cave. There's a reason it drew her in, too. There's something singing to her, something that lives at the bottom of the grotto. And with each thing they feed it, it becomes a little bit stronger...(and then it's called something unassuming like "Wavecrest Cave")

So that's Nightmare Time season four all lined up. Please tell me if you have a good name idea for episodes 2 and 4. Also if anyone wants to use these as writing prompts, be my guest (just tag me so I can read them)