#spiral static song

[cydonianart]

It’s almost Showbiz 25!

[breathingsong]

every song is about ellie from the last of us to me now

[pandapetals]

Faking It

During sex, you fake an orgasm causing Logan to spiral. Once he confronts you about it, he wants to prove he can make you feel good without faking it.

logan howlett x fem!reader - established relationship, no reader description, no y/n used, faking an orgasm, self-loathing logan, slight angst, imagined worst logan but this gives dofp!logan too, vibes, smut, feral logan, p in v sex, oral, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie 

a/n: idea from @yxtkiwiyxt - it ate away at my brain and being on my period really caused this to be born

divider credit: @enchanthings

Logan could feel everything. Every shift in your body, every flicker in your expression, every whispered contradiction between what you said and felt. He didn’t just sense when you lied—he absorbed it, like static in the air before a storm.

Now, with your body beneath his, every nerve in him was attuned to you. The heat of your skin pressed against his, the rhythmic creak of the mattress, the broken gasps you offered him—it was intoxicating. Yet it wasn’t enough. Something was off.

The faint furrow of your brow was his first clue. At first, he thought it was pleasure, that delicious kind of tension that came right before you unraveled. But then he felt the subtle stiffness in your thighs, the shallow way you breathed, and a flicker of doubt crackled through his chest. The feral part of him that craved, that demanded—urged him forward, driving him to thrust harder, deeper, desperate to coax something real out of you. He growled low in your ear, his voice rough with need.

“C’mon, pretty girl… make a mess for me,” he rasped, his teeth grazing the delicate line of your jaw.

You whimpered, but it wasn’t the sound he was chasing. And when the moan came—high-pitched, trembling, but hollow—it hit him like a cold slap to the face. It wasn’t real. He knew it wasn’t real.

His hands tightened on your hips as frustration swirled with something darker, something that felt too close to shame. His feral side snarled inside him, demanding he keep going, demanding release, and for one selfish, fleeting moment, he gave in. He pushed through, riding the edge until he spilled into you with a broken groan, collapsing onto the bed beside you as his chest heaved.

The room felt too quiet after, too still. Your fingers trailed idly over his chest, your touch soft and featherlight, but Logan’s body felt stiff beneath your hand. He turned his head, searching your face in the dim light, and when you offered a lazy smile, it was like glass shattering in his chest.

“I make you feel good, gorgeous?” he asked, his voice low and soft, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe he didn’t want to hear the answer.

“Uh-huh,” you murmured, snuggling closer to him like it was nothing. Like the lie wasn’t still hanging heavy in the air between you.

Logan wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t oblivious. That tiny, fake little moan echoed in his ears, replaying like a bad song on repeat. And it hurt. God, it hurt. He’d been in your bed, in your body, but not once had he felt like he was truly with you. Not tonight.

Still, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there as his thoughts churned. He held you close, feeling your breathing slow as sleep crept in, and though his arms tightened around you protectively, his mind refused to rest.

Why had you faked it? Was it him? Something he’d done—or something he hadn’t done? Did you not trust him enough to tell him? The questions coiled in his gut, twisting and knotting until frustration and hurt blurred together in a haze of anger. And yet, despite the heat crawling under his skin, he couldn’t bring himself to wake you. Not now. 

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. Logan didn’t let things go easily—especially not when it came to you.

But figuring out how to bring it up? That wasn’t his strong suit. For a whole day, he sat on it, the frustration gnawing at him like a splinter buried too deep to pull out. He replayed every moment in his head: the way your body tensed, the way your fake moan had grated against his ears, the way you had smiled afterward like nothing had happened. By the time the sun had begun to set again, the weight of it had him wound so tight it felt like a rubber band about to snap. And, unfortunately for Wade, Logan’s rubber band tended to snap loudly.

The bar was dimly lit, its usual haze of stale beer and cigarette smoke clinging to the air. Logan sat nursing a whiskey he’d barely touched, his mood written all over his face. Wade, of course, was oblivious—or maybe just ignoring it. He leaned on the counter beside Logan, rambling on about some escapade Logan hadn’t bothered to keep track of. His jaw clenched tighter with every passing second until Wade finally poked the wrong bear.

“You’ve been pissy all day,” Wade said, squinting at Logan like he was examining a strange animal. “Let me guess, you finally found someone who doesn’t think your claws are sexy? Or—oh, wait—” Wade’s face lit up with a spark of mischief. “You’re telling me you couldn’t make your girlfriend orgasm?”

Logan stiffened.

“Oh, peanut,” Wade gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like he was genuinely heartbroken. “Say it ain’t so! The big bad Wolverine, all growls and muscles, and—nothing? Nada? No fireworks?”

Logan’s hand slammed down on the bar, the sound sharp enough to make a few heads turn. He rounded on Wade, eyes blazing, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about, so maybe shut your damn mouth before I shut it for you.”

Wade blinked, and there was a beat of silence—a rare occurrence for him. But it lasted all of two seconds before his lips quirked into a grin. “Ohhhh, I hit a nerve, didn’t I? Don’t worry, champ, it happens to the best of us. Well, not to me, obviously, but—”

“Wade.” Logan’s tone cut through the air like a blade. The room seemed to drop a few degrees as Logan pushed himself up from the barstool, his knuckles white against the edge of the counter. Wade threw up his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright! Geez, no need to go full Wolverine on me.” Wade stepped back, but not without muttering under his breath, “Touchy subject, huh?”

Logan ignored him. He grabbed his jacket and stormed out of the bar, his mind racing. Wade might be an idiot, but even idiots could land a hit when they weren’t aiming. The truth was, the jab had struck too close to home. He didn’t care about the idea of failure, not really—not when it came to anyone else. But with you? It felt like a crack in something he hadn’t even realized was fragile.

When Logan got back to your shared space, you were curled up on the couch, your feet tucked under you as you watched TV. The sight of you—so calm, so untouched by the storm that had been raging inside him all day—made something snap loose in his chest. He couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Can we talk?” His voice was gruff, but quieter than you expected, almost hesitant.

You glanced up, surprised. “Of course. What’s wrong?”

Logan ran a hand through his hair, pacing a little before settling on the edge of the coffee table in front of you. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Last night,” he started, his voice strained. “Somethin’ was off. I know it. You know it. And I can’t stop thinkin’ about it.”

Your stomach twisted, guilt pooling in your chest. “Logan, I—”

“You faked it,” he said bluntly, cutting to the heart of it. His eyes finally lifted to meet yours, and the vulnerability there nearly knocked the wind out of you. “Why?”

The word hung in the air between you.

You swallowed hard, turning the TV off and shifting in your seat. “It wasn’t you,” you said quickly, wanting to get that part out first. “I mean, it wasn’t because of you. It’s… me.”

His brow furrowed, and he leaned back slightly, his arms crossing over his chest as he studied you. “What does that mean?”

You took a deep breath, your hands twisting in your lap. “I’ve been in my head lately,” you admitted. “I’ve been… struggling. With work, with stress, with feeling like I’m enough. And I guess last night, I just—” You hesitated, looking away. “I didn’t want you to feel like you weren’t enough. So I faked it.”

Logan stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he exhaled a low sound that was more frustration with himself than anything else. “Darlin’,” he said, his voice softer now. “You don’t have to fake anything with me. Ever.”

“I know,” you whispered, your throat tight. “I just… I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me?” Logan’s voice sharpened, and he leaned forward again, his hands reaching out to take yours. “You think that’s what this is about? I don’t care about some… performance. I care about you. And if somethin’s wrong, I wanna know. I wanna fix it, not pretend it doesn’t exist.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you gave a small nod. “I’m sorry,” you murmured.

He shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. Just… tell me when something’s wrong, okay?” His thumbs brushed over your knuckles, his voice softening again.

You managed a small smile, squeezing his hands. “Okay.” 

Logan’s lips brushed your forehead before he pulled you into his arms. His touch was warm, and grounding, but there was something beneath it—something deliberate. His hands settled on your hips like he was afraid you might pull away.

“Now,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “let me make you feel good.”

You tilted your head back to look at him, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “Logan, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine—”

He cut you off with a shake of his head, his thumb brushing over the curve of your waist. “No, you’re not,” he said plainly, his tone gruff but tender. His eyes met yours, intense and unwavering, and his lips quirked into a faint smirk. “You’re stressed. I can see it. I can feel it.”

Your breath hitched as his hands slid down your arms, calloused fingertips trailing a path that sent shivers racing across your skin. “Let me take care of you,” he said, his voice softer now, more coaxing.

And honestly? There was no denying it. The idea of Logan worshipping your body—of losing yourself in the way he always seemed to know exactly what you needed—was too tempting to resist. You swallowed hard, your lips parting slightly as his gaze dropped to your mouth.

“I mean…” You tried to keep your voice steady, but it wavered as his hands slid lower, settling on the backs of your thighs. “If you insist…”

Logan let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Oh, I insist,” he drawled, his grip tightening just enough to make your stomach flip. Before you could process the thought, he was lifting you with ease, his strength as effortless as it was intoxicating.

The world tilted as he carried you to the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He laid you down with a kind of reverence that made your chest ache, his broad frame hovering over you. His lips found the delicate curve of your neck, and your breath hitched as he kissed his way down, the scrape of his stubble sending sparks skittering across your skin.

By the time his hands found the waistband of your underwear, you were already melting under his touch. He peeled them off slowly, his eyes darkening as they roamed your bare skin. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice thick with desire.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words dissolved into a soft gasp as his lips trailed lower, his mouth hot and insistent against your collarbone. His hands gripped your hips, grounding you as he shifted lower, and the anticipation coiled in your stomach like a live wire.

“Logan,” you whispered, his name slipping from your lips like a plea.

He glanced up at you, his smirk returning as he settled between your thighs. “Relax, darlin’,” he murmured, his hands spreading your legs with deliberate care. “Let me take my time with you.”

The first press of his mouth was soft and exploratory, but it didn’t stay that way for long. Logan was nothing if not thorough, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes that left you breathless. He watched your every reaction, the flicker of his eyes on you making it clear he was entirely in control—but completely devoted to you.

Your hands tangled in his hair as the tension inside you built, his name falling from your lips in broken whispers. He hummed against you, the vibrations making you arch into him, and he responded by gripping your hips tighter, holding you in place as he worked you closer and closer to the edge.

And when you finally came undone, shuddering and gasping beneath him, Logan didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow.

“Logan,” you gasped, your voice trembling as your body shook with aftershocks.

“Not done with you yet, pretty girl,” he rasped, his voice low and gravelly. His lips curved into a wicked grin, and before you could catch your breath, he dipped his head again, his mouth finding you with renewed purpose.

Time blurred after that, the world narrowing to the feel of him, the sound of him, the way he seemed utterly consumed by the act of worshipping every inch of you. By the time he finally let you catch your breath, your body was boneless, your mind a haze of blissful exhaustion.

Logan crawled up the bed, his lips brushing over your temple as he pulled you into his arms. His hands, still warm and steady, skimmed over your back, grounding you in the aftermath of it all.

“Better?” he asked, his voice soft now, full of quiet satisfaction.

You let out a shaky laugh, burying your face in his chest. “You could say that,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin.

Logan chuckled softly as he kissed the top of your head. His hand rested against the small of your back, fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin. “Good,” he murmured, his tone laced with smug satisfaction but dripping with affection. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

You nodded weakly, still catching your breath, your body feeling boneless in the aftermath of his touch. Every nerve was still humming, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady yourself. But then you felt it—a shift in the air, a change in the weight of the bed as Logan leaned forward.

Your eyes fluttered open just in time to see the smirk tugging at his lips, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief. He hovered above you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off his body.

His lips brushed over yours in a soft kiss making your heart stutter. “Logan,” you whispered, your voice barely above a whimper.

“I know,” he replied, his breath warm against your lips. “But I’m not done with you yet.” His voice was a low growl, rough edges softened by something tender and utterly consuming. “I just want to make you feel so good.”

You let out a breathless laugh, your head sinking back into the pillows. “You did, Logan. I promise—”

He cut you off with a smirk, the curve of his lips playful and dangerous. “Okay, then,” he drawled, his tone dropping to something darker, something that sent a shiver down your spine. “If you’re good, I want to hear you whimper my name.”

Before you could protest—or agree—his hand slid down your body, his touch slow and deliberate. His calloused fingertips brushed over your stomach, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, before they dipped lower, tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Your breath hitched, your body instinctively arching toward him as his hand moved closer, teasing and torturously slow. Logan’s gaze never left yours, and the intensity in his eyes made your pulse race.

“Logan…” you moaned softly, his name slipping from your lips like a reflex as his fingers finally slid between your thighs.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble of satisfaction. His touch was firm but unhurried, exploring you with a focus that made your head spin. His thumb moved in a way that had your legs trembling, and when his fingers pressed exactly where you needed them, your back arched off the mattress, a gasp spilling from your lips.

“God, you’re perfect,” he muttered, almost to himself, as if he couldn’t quite believe the way you were unraveling beneath him. His free hand gripped your hip, holding you steady as he worked you closer and closer to the edge, the tension coiling tighter with every stroke.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak—all you could do was feel. Logan was relentless, his lips brushing against your neck, your collarbone, and your shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses that made your skin tingle. He alternated between soft and demanding, his touch a perfect balance of control and devotion.

“Logan,” you whimpered again, your voice breaking on the syllable as the pressure built impossibly high, teetering on the edge of something devastatingly good.

“There it is,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire, his lips ghosting over your ear. “That’s my girl.”

The words sent a jolt of heat straight through you, and with one more perfectly placed movement of his hand, you shattered. Your body arched into him as pleasure crashed over you, wave after wave, his name tumbling from your lips like a prayer.

Logan didn’t stop right away—he worked you through it, his hands steady, his lips murmuring quiet praises against your skin as you rode out the high. By the time the tremors subsided, you were trembling, your body utterly spent.

He finally pulled his hand away, his touch leaving a trail of warmth in its absence. Logan leaned down, brushing his lips over yours in a kiss. 

“Still with me, darlin’?” he asked, his voice soft, his smirk replaced with something gentler as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

You managed a weak nod, your body still buzzing, and Logan chuckled, the sound warm and rumbling.

“Good,” he murmured, pulling you into his arms. His hand slid up your back, holding you close as your head rested against his chest. “Because I think you’ve got one more in you.”

You let out a breathless laugh, your cheeks flushing. 

“What?” Logan murmured, his smirk teasing and wicked as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. His breath was warm against your skin, and the way his lips lingered made your stomach twist with anticipation. “Told you, I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you could reply, his hands began their slow descent, tracing the curves of your body with deliberate care. His palms were warm and rough, gliding over your hips and your thighs. Every touch felt like a promise he had no intention of breaking.

“Logan…” you started, but your words dissolved into a shaky exhale as his fingers found the sensitive spot just above your knee, kneading gently before sliding higher.

He shifted above you, his movements unhurried, his gaze dark and hungry as he took in the sight of you sprawled beneath him. “You can take it,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

You watched as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants, the fabric slipping down his hips in one fluid motion. The sight of him, the sheer confidence in how he moved, made your breath catch. He tossed the pants aside without a second thought, his smirk deepening as he leaned back over you, his body heat radiating against your skin.

“Give me one more,” he murmured, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear. His tone was soft but commanding, his words rolling over you like a wave, pulling you under.

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up, though it was breathless, tinged with disbelief at his sheer audacity. “I thought this was supposed to be about me feeling good,” you teased, your voice light, though your heart was pounding.

Logan’s lips quirked into a lopsided grin, but his eyes burned with intent. “Oh, it is,” he drawled, his hand sliding down to grip your thigh, pulling you flush against him. “But I’m pretty damn sure you’ll feel real good giving me what I want.”

The heat in his gaze sent a fresh rush of anticipation coursing through you, and you felt your teasing resolve falter. His fingers trailed over your skin, mapping every inch of you as if he were committing it to memory. When he shifted lower, pressing his lips to your collarbone, then to the soft curve of your breast, his mouth was hot and insistent, each kiss drawing soft gasps from your lips.

You barely had time to process the way his teeth grazed over your skin, sending sparks skittering down your spine, before his hips pressed against yours, his body slotting against yours perfectly. His movements were slow at first like he was savoring every reaction he pulled from you.

Then Logan whispered, husky and dripping with that dark, primal edge, “I want you to feel it everywhere, darlin’—every inch, every second. No faking this time.”

Your breath hitched, the intensity in his voice making your head spin, your body arching into him in a silent plea. Logan’s lips curved into a knowing smirk against your skin. His hands were everywhere—gripping, teasing, worshiping—making it impossible to think, let alone resist the pull of him.

As his mouth found yours, the kiss was all-consuming with the addictive mix of dominance and tenderness only Logan could manage. You clung to him, your hands sliding over the planes of his back, your nails digging in just enough to make him groan against your lips.

“You feelin’ good yet?” he teased, his voice low and rough, thick with need. His lips hovered over yours, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath, but not quite touching, a maddening taunt that sent a fresh wave of anticipation rolling through you.

Your fingers curled against his shoulders, desperate to ground yourself as his pace shifted. He moved deeper, his hips rolling in a way that made your back arch off the bed, a gasp tumbling from your lips before you could stop it. The deliberate rhythm he’d kept moments ago began to unravel, his movements growing more intense, more insistent.

“Logan,” you whimpered, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer, shaky and breathless.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he growled, his voice rumbling in his chest like a distant storm. His lips brushed over your jawline, leaving a trail of heat as they trailed down to the sensitive spot just below your ear. When his teeth grazed your skin, a soft cry escaped you, your body tightening beneath him.

He groaned low, the sound vibrating against your neck, as your nails dug deeper into the muscles of his back. “So good for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with praise.

Your response came in broken gasps and soft whimpers, your head falling back as the sensations overwhelmed you. Each thrust was deliberate, calculated, but they grew harder, deeper, until your body melted into the mattress, pliant and trembling under him.

The tension in your stomach coiled tighter, white-hot, and electric until it felt like you might come undone. You couldn’t think, speak—could barely even hold on—your body responding to him instinctively, as though it were made just for this.

“Look at me,” Logan rasped, his voice pulling you back to him. Your eyes fluttered open, dazed, to find his gaze locked on yours, burning and unrelenting. “That’s it, pretty girl. I want to see you.”

His hips pressed into you again, hitting the spot so devastating that your eyes rolled back and a broken cry escaped your lips. You clung to him, your body trembling as pleasure surged through you, raw and overwhelming. His name spilled from your mouth in a whisper, soft and reverent, and it only seemed to spur him on.

“Good girl,” he muttered, his voice rough and frayed, his movements driving you higher and higher. “Just like that.”

When you finally broke, the world seemed to splinter apart, the sensation crashing over you in waves so intense you could hardly breathe. Your body arched into his, your thighs shaking as your release consumed you, dragging you under.

Logan slowed, his touch gentler now as you trembled in his arms. He pressed soft kisses to your neck, shoulder, and temple, breathing heavily and unevenly against your skin.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice softer now, warm and teasing as his lips ghosted over yours.

You managed a weak nod, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks, and he chuckled, his breath tickling your cheek.

“That’s my girl,” he said, his tone low and full of quiet pride. He tucked you closer against him, his arms wrapping around you protectively, and you let yourself melt into his warmth, utterly spent but completely safe in his embrace.

[mistresscitrusslice]

The Season 2 Opening. We Must Discuss.

First of all, small beans. Instead of static, lifeless statues, this time we get moving humans. Mel features significantly more than I expected, so she'll probably be a much more major character than I expected for a non-champion character and I'm so happy for her. I believe the use of moving people instead of statues signifies that immense change will be happening. What we thought was literally set in stone in Season 1 will be turned on its head in Season 2.

Okay, on to the really concerning matters.

Yuhuh. Jinx moves too fast for me to get a good screenshot, but she gestures like this around her face a lot. I think we all already know about the Caitlyn-Jinx parallels, but my sister suggests it could be a red herring for the actual resemblances she has to Silco.

Sis gets credit for the following observation, but Caitlyn's daydream sequences about shooting Jinx are controlled and clearly separated from reality unlike Jinx's.

However, sis has not seen ep 2 yet, where Caitlyn does have that moment in the arcade where she shoots her vision of Jinx among the wooden dummies. Not only does this more closely resemble Jinx's hallucinations, it also parallels Jinx shooting the harmless crow in s1 e5. By the time the strike squad are about to leave, she can clearly tell that what she thought might be Jinx was really just a harmless wooden standee. Startling, but harmless. She shoots it anyway.

Caitlyn is totally gonna spiral more, and maybe she'll start losing her grip on reality too, but for now, she has more in common with Silco than she does with Jinx. Did anyone else get reminded of Silco's coat when Ambessa put the supervillain cape on Caitlyn? The collars don't look similar but they still eerily resemble each other, you get me?

Ok back to intro stuff

Vi wipes off her name from her face. That's two tattoos that are rendered impermanent in this opening theme. In the Fenty x Arcane video, they mention that Mel's golden freckles are tattoos. Later in the intro song, we also see her golden freckles gone. Change, impermanence. That seems to be a theme here.

Vi is literally erasing her name from her face. In any normal circumstance, I'd say that means she wants a change of identity, a desire to start over. However, I know that Vi's League lore involves amnesia. Does she really drink herself into that bad of a stupor? Jkjk. I assumed that her amnesia was replaced by the Stillwater imprisonment to explain how she got topside and with the enforcers, but perhaps I was wrong. Maybe they do still intend to go the amnesia or partial amnesia route with her.

The teasers implied that Vi shares the genetic trait that has Jinx predisposed to hallucinations. It's possible that this eventually contributes to her loss of memory, but I wouldn't call it quite yet. However, if this happens during her emo era when I'm assuming she has no support system, she'll be very vulnerable, unlike if it were to happen while she was still partnered with Caitlyn, in which case they could easily fill in most blanks in her memory.

I have no idea what to make of this. It's clear as day what they're paralleling, but why? Why the flashlight scene? My best guess is that they're trying to draw on déjà vu, implying a repetition of history, but why this particular moment? They could've easily chosen anything else in Jayce's s1 arc. He has many more memorable moments than this. Let's see, I'm literally making this up as I go.

This meeting was a pivotal moment for Jayce. Both his meeting with Viktor and his meeting with Mel changed his fate. The Viktor one is pretty self-explanatory, but without meeting Mel, they would've both just gotten exiled or locked up again. With Mel, they had someone in power who could vouch for them.

That begs the question, is Jayce meeting someone new? Or is this a reintroduction to someone he's already known before, a new meeting after a long time apart or after a significant change, maybe a change in them both. I believe it must be someone who was involved in the original hallway scene.

Jayce is either looking at Mel again or at Viktor. Given the amount of Viktor/Mel parallels in Season 1, I believe Jayce is looking at Viktor after he's undergone his likely final evolution. That'll obviously be another pivotal moment for him... but will it be a good one like it was with Mel? Viktor has power now. He's performing miracles. He's, like, two steps away from parting the Pilt River like it's the Red Sea. He seems to hold a grudge against Jayce, though, for *checks notes* saving his life? Jk I know he feels like he's losing autonomy and like Jayce didn't respect his wishes with the Hexcore and Jayce obviously couldn't let Viktor die when he'd fought so hard to stay alive before.

Anyway, I feel like this could easily be both a good omen and a bad omen for Jayce. More than anything, I feel like it'll be an epiphany. He is quite literally seeing the light. The light at the end of the dark tunnel? The light of the heavens at the end of his life? The light of a revelation sent by a god he once knew as a man?

Seeing Mel screaming bloody murder during the opening, this was the first place my mind went to. The pose doesn't match up exactly, and Jinx/Powder's screams are definitely wilder, but I feel like there's definitely something here. Is there anyone else who screams like this, thrusting their head forward and keeping their arms back?

We also see the shadow hands from this earlier shot:

I'm thinking of the Black Rose (is that their name?) kidnapping her in thin air, incorporeal hands reaching at her and snatching my joy the love of my life Mel away. It could also represent people grasping at the power Mel wields, both as the wealthiest Council member and as a Noxian princess, one of the closest people to Ambessa, the one wielding the most power right now.

Mel is really out of her depth right now. Her power and influence is up for grabs if she dares to blink and let her guard down. I'm also surprised that we don't see her fight back at all when there's danger around. I thought she might have more battle experience as she was raised by Ambessa. For those people wondering about her magical powers, I think she would've used them by now if she had them. Council attack aside, which could've been Viktor's magic, she wasn't able to do anything about the memorial attack or her own kidnapping. I think they're trying to show us that Mel is not as untouchable as she presents herself. Under the right circumstances, she's just as vulnerable as any civilian.

The sliver of light? My sister pointed out that it looks just like the crack of light between two double doors. Almost closed... or barely open? It appears in pretty much everyone's shot in the opening, but it's right down the center of Mel's face here. Is she torn between two sides? Is this about an impossible choice she has to make?

The spotlight is also on her. That's two sources of light. It looks like a red sun. All eyes on her as the surviving voice of the Council?

And her expression... shock, fear, horror. The heavy breathing, the look on her face... I feel eerily like I've seen it on someone else before. I can't place who, but I'm getting déjà vu from this. Does anyone else recognize this expression and these mannerisms?

[onesidedradiostatic]

Imagine the Hotel crew breaks into the V Tower to foil the Vees' plans and they grab a contract they think is Angel's but it's actually some random VoxTek employee that they free and this dude's now at the hotel with them like "it was awful. he made me clean his Alastor shrine every day and I mean that thing is HUGE. And he made me sing an Alastor version of My Heart Will Go On every morning before work. I had to dress up as the radio demon when I cleaned the shrine." Immediate silence. Entire hotel room stares at Alastor. Alastor's eye is twitching, the radio static is getting louder and he looks like he just malfunctioned.

LMAOOOOOO THIS IS SO FUNNY. this guy joins the main cast

and he has a song number about his mistreatment from vox and how much he had to deal with his WEIRD alastor fixation. the deep cleaning of his body pillow. the radio demon cosplay he had to put on on some days. he's so traumatised by all of vox's weird alastor shit the very sight of alastor in the flesh causes him to spiral. it was a very emotional song number. it ends with alastor blank staring at him and then saying "what" with charlie sobbing in the background.

[minnowheart]

You die and you meet God.

She looks at you with her Aspen eyes. Her thousand-edged cutting eyes.

She says HELLO. HELLO AGAIN.

She says THAT WAS QUITE A RIDE THIS TIME, HUH?

She says YOUR EYES ARE SO BEAUTIFUL. THEY ARE ALWAYS SO BEAUTIFUL.

She says WELL? DID YOU DO IT? DID YOU FIGURE IT OUT?

You don’t reply. You are trying to figure out why you are falling and falling and staying still. You are trying to remember how long you have been falling here. You are trying to remember where here even is.

You say who are you?

You say what happened, where am I?

You say my eyes are beautiful? But your eyes… they are so lovely too.

You say figure what out?

She looks again at you with her chimera mountain Aspen eyes.

She sighs.

She turns ThunderBird. Wings a trillion volts of lightning.

You are turned without from within, cells shattering with the pulse of storms.

You choke soundless.

ThunderBird says electric YOU WANT TO KNOW HOW YOU GOT HERE?

ThunderBird says galvanic YOUR DEATH WAS BLESSED, AS THEY ALL ARE.

ThunderBird says voltaic NOW YOU ARE HERE. AT THE END OF YOUR LIFE.

You spin and spin apart. There is only this static in your mouth. You think this is what terror truly tastes like. This thought is soothing to you somehow. You are completely still in this empty void. You are surrounded, thrashing in this cramped filled-to-the-brim space.

You scream but I was so young.

You scream how could I have known to enjoy it more?

You scream but I lived a full life.

You scream oh… I lived.

ThunderBird cradles you in their voltage feathers.

Your breathing leaves you. You wonder if you were breathing this whole time, in this space.

You wonder if you miss it. You cannot remember.

ThunderBird shifts Coyote, yellowed grin all flashing teeth and writhing tongue.

Coyote says laughing IT'S ALL JUST CHAOS ANYWAY.

Coyote says cackling IT'S ALL JUST LIGHT AND DARK AND THE IN BETWEEN.

Coyote says shrieking IT'S WHAT HAPPENS TO EVERYONE. WE LIVE. WE DIE. POOF. NO MORE.

You say yes, well, of course, but how am I -

HERE TALKING TO ME? WELL, ISN'T THAT SOMETHING THEN.

Coyote winks into stars, surrounding, spiraling into a thousand heads of The Divine.

You screech and groan and roar and crawl and writhe and slither and claw and gnash and lash a thousand tails.

Shamash says with the voice of the sun YOU'RE ALMOST DUE. ANY MORE QUESTIONS?

You struggle to remember anything besides this endless aching everywhere.

You gasp my life! What was the point of my life?

You say almost due? Due where?

You say when does this stop?

Bastet says with silken sleek drawl IS THAT ALL YOU HAVE TO ASK? IS IT ALL ABOUT YOU?

You don't remember your name.

Rudra says with obsidian teeth WHAT WAS THE POINT. WELL, I SUPPOSE YOU'LL HAVE TO FIGURE THAT OUT.

You scream a silent scream I don't understand anything!

Prometheus says with flaming song REGARDLESS, THIS IS YOUR STOP.

The Stars that are not quite Stars incandescently chorus SEE YOU SOON.

You blink one last time. Your vision Kaleidoscopes, bends into a thousand ways.

You become Mountain, Fertile Plain, Forest of Evergreen, Desert, The Sea.

You speak to yourself now. There is only yourself.

There has only ever been you in all this soft darkness, all this blinding light.

Here in the Beginning. Here at the end.

The wheat chants GO

The water cries GO

The ice and snow wail, melting. GO

The birds call THE POINT OF IT ALL IS TO CARE

The wilderness whispers CARE ABOUT ANYTHING OTHER THAN YOURSELF.

The Wolves howl I WILL ASK YOU NEXT TIME

The playful Dolphin and innocent Dodo and gentle Elephant and loyal Passenger Pigeon and Ivory-billed Woodpecker and the graceful, forgiving Thylacine moans IF YOU WERE ABLE TO DO IT. IF YOU WERE ABLE TO FIGURE IT OUT.

You understand. There are uncountable tears. This is all you are. Water salted from the source. You close your eyes.

You awake, in a body small and gasping for breath, screaming a wordless sound.

[mingtinys]

[11:45 p.m.]

pairing : song mingi x gn!reader

fluff , humor , comfort fic

warnings : thunderstorms

word count : 0.7 k

requested ? no

a/n : i am not the least bit ashamed to admit this was slightly inspired by that one ouran host club episode. it is my comfort episode. sue me.

Typically, you're one to enjoy a good Summer storm. You're rather fond of the cozy peace they bring. Especially late at night, when the heavy rain starts to sound like static and lulls you into a deep sleep. Interrupted only by soft rolls of thunder and the occasional blue flickers of lightning.

But the one tonight is far too aggressive for your taste.

The rain is deafening as it continues its onslaught against your poor window. And each startling crash of lightning precedes an even louder boom that shakes the room. Rattling picture frames that hang delicately on the walls.

You won't be sleeping tonight. That's for sure.

Anxiety wraps its nimble fingers around your heart and squeezes with each subsequent lighting strike. Digging its claws deeper and deeper until you can't take it anymore.

Your comforter is quickly tossed to the side, skin exposed to the chilly night air in your desperate escape. You tiptoe your way to the living room, searching for the giant scaredy-cat you know is likely up calming his own nerves.

And sure enough, there he is.

Cuddled up on the couch with the fuzziest blanket he owns draped over his shoulders. He's mindlessly acrolling through his phone with his headphones on at full volume. You can just barely make out the faint song playing through them.

You creep up slowly so as not to spook him, though it doesn't do much good. Mingi still flinches as soon as your shadow casts across the room with yet another flash from outside. Whipping his head around so fast you're surprised he doesn't get whiplash. But he quickly recovers, laughing at himself once he realizes it's just you.

He slips off his headphones and lets them hang from around his neck. "Storm keeping you up?"

"Yeah."

"I thought you liked storms," he frowns.

"I do, this one's just a little..."

Mingi hums. "I get it. Come, sit." He pats the open spot beside him and you sit. His arm wraps around your shoulder, enveloping you into his blanket cocoon and pulling you in until you're smooshed against his side.

"Did the storm spook you too?" You ask, resting your head on the junction of his neck.

"Pfft, no, I like being awake–"

A giant crack of lightning strikes the pavement outside a little too close for comfort and startles the both of you. Mingi even lets loose a sharp string of curses. It makes you giggle, which unwinds the knot in your stomach just enough to tease your boyfriend.

"You were saying?"

But then the power flickers as the wind picks up and you're eating your words. Tensing at the near-instant karma for teasing Mingi. The wind is the worst part, in your opinion.  You hate how it howls and bellows as it whips around the corners of your home. It echoes through your head, sending you into a spiral of anxiety. Heart racing so fast you can feel its pulse in every limb.

Until suddenly, it all stops. Muted by calming tunes blasting through the headphones placed over your ears.

You glance up at Mingi, pulling one side back. "Are you sure you don't need them?"

"No, I'll be okay. Besides, I'm your big strong boyfriend, it's my job to take care of you." Mingi puffs his chest, looking rather proud of his heroic act.

"You're such a dork."

He just smiles and shakes his head at your comment. Then taps through his playlist to find music he knows you like. "Just try to get some sleep," he says as he readjusts the headphones and presses a long kiss to your temple.

To his credit, the headphones do a wonderful job of blocking out the storm. You wouldn't even know it was still ongoing if it weren't for the way Mingi jumps up every so often. Completely defenseless against the rampage outside now that you've taken his only protection. And even though each time you look at him, he reassures you with a tight smile, you know he's dying a little on the inside with each boom of thunder.

So, eventually, you coax him to lie down and tuck his head to your chest, holding him with your arm pressed over his ear. He hums when your fingers slowly toy with his hair, the vibration of it tickling your skin. Within seconds, he's fully melted into you. The both of you slipping into a slumber with the storm now nothing but background noise.

taglist: @dontwannaexsist

[zerobaselove]

ever seen | zhang hao

pairing: zhang hao x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 711

warnings: nothing that i can think of?? lowercase intended, not proofread

notes: this is so rough and thrown together i just rlly wanted to write smth kinda inspired by a song on beabadoobees new album and im on the verge of biasing hao so here we are

"y/n, shouldn't you be asleep?"

you sighed in relief as you heard your best friend's voice over the phone, although more gravelly than you're used to, but you suppose that's because its almost two in the morning.

"i didn't think you'd be awake still," you mumbled, your eyes scanning your dark room, faintly lit by the moonlight through your window. his voice sounded back over your phone, "everything okay?"

you shook your head, though he didn't know that. "can't sleep, and i miss you." your voice trailed off, hoping the last part of your confession and your shaking voice had fallen victim to the static, but it hadn't.

you could hear the smile on his face as he responded, "do you need me to come over?" you only hummed in response before he said a quick farewell and headed out.

this had become a sort of routine as of late. much to your heart's dismay, you both knew you slept better when you weren't alone, and your best friend, and crush zhang hao, had no problem helping you get a few more hours of rest on nights like this.

despite his ability to make your heart skip a beat, he also was the only one who was able to calm you down enough to fall asleep. and that's how you ended up here, waiting in your bedroom as you quietly hummed a song to yourself.

you heard the front door unlock, having given him his own keys months ago, soon followed by a faint knock at your bedroom door and the door silently opening, revealing your safe haven and ticket to dreamland, hao.

he slid himself in your bed next to you, wrapping an arm around you tightly, "i'm here now," he said reassuringly, rubbing circles on your arm with his thumb. "do you want to talk about it or do you want a distraction until you get tired?"

"just wanna lay here with you for a bit," your voice had finally stopped shaking as you took in a deep breath, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne.

the two of you settled into a comfortable position; both laying facing one another, letting the moonlight illuminate a part of hao's face. his eyes seemed to sparkle in this lighting, like shining stars.

you were mesmerized.

your eyes trailed over his features; his slightly messy hair, clearly he hadn't had time to brush it between your phone call and him leaving his house. your gaze stopped for a moment on his lips, slightly parted as he focused in on your hands that had found their way to his own. and then there were his eyes. his eyes that seemed to hold all the love in the world, at least that's what it felt like when he looked at you; especially now.

"hao, you have the prettiest eyes i've ever seen." you blurted out, too tired to consider the weight of your words or the effect it would have on the boy who now flushed pink in front of you.

he stuttered out a denial that you couldn't quite understand, and before you could give it a second thought you broke your hands free of his grasp, bringing your hands to cup his cheeks. the warmth radiating from his face left you with your own warm and fuzzy feeling as you watched the emotions flash on his face. confusion and anticipation.

even you weren't anticipating your next move as you brought your face closer to his, feeling his breathing match up to your own at the new proximity.

before your brain could catch up to your body and tell you to back out, you pressed your lips to his, savouring the feeling for a moment before pulling away.

you both took a moment to compose yourself. taking the time to process what just happened. what were you thinking? you wondered to yourself. but before you could spiral down that path, his lips found their way to yours, this time taking you by surprise.

time had seemed to slow, and by the time you pulled away from each other, you both were nearly panting to catch your breath.

"well y/n, i think you might actually have the prettiest eyes i've ever seen."

[123puppy]

Sharing a bed is peak Appleradio potential but lemme run with the idea of Alastor suffering through sleepless night and all of the above

If he can help it, Al will stay awake for as long as he can until he passes out, and wherever he goes to lie down and rest is anyone's guess but I like to think he hides in the guest rooms of the hotel, the darkest corners like the closets, under the beds, anywhere where no one can see or find him

During the start of their relationship Alastor never slept in a bed with Lucifer for months. It was a thing Lucifer didn't know how to tread upon since Alastor will deflect the questions or attempts to sleep in the same bed, and that's it, nothing but lying in bed, sleeping. No touching required

With some gentle persuasion and endless promises not to do anything but close their eyes and lay in bed for 8 hours, Alastor caved and they were sharing a bed late one night

And it was... nice. Very nice. The presence of Lucifer alone calmed his mind, he can hear the soft breathing of the man beside him and the small shifts whenever Lucifer rolled around in bed. It put him at ease, his eyes closed, taking in the scent of his partner, and....

He can't move, why can't he move, he's still in bed but it feels wrong, so very wrong, wait where's Lucifer, where did he go he was right here a second ago, why are the shadows creeping towards him, they look more jagged and seem to sneer at him like he's a disgusting piece of meat, wait his throat, why can't he breathe, what is sitting on his chest no wait-his windpipe is being crushed-what is happening why can't he breathe!?!!?!? His hands, they're stuck, his vision is getting blurry, the shadows are laughing at him and begin to swallow him, suffocating him even more, he tries calling for help but all that comes out is a bleat-

Lucifer is in a panic when he gets woken up by the tremors on the bed and witnessing his partner suffering through Sleep Paralysis, he calls Alastor by his name and what he gets is a bleat in response and his heart throbs at the impact the sound makes

He wants to touch but fights the need bc there is no good outcome from it so he continues to call Alastor gently, coaxing him out of his petrified state by giving him reassurance after reassurance and remaining close by but not touching so that Alastor can feel his presence

It was grueling to hear his partner make broken sounds and painful to get sharp popping noises and drowned out radio static, but Alastor fully wakes up and Lucifer is so relieved

But Al, Al is frozen, silent, breathing heavy as his eyes dart around the room, like he's looking for something, and Lucifer sees how frantic he is, he's getting ready to run-

And Alastor is startled when a wispy outline of a duck nuzzles his cheek what-

Said duck waddles into his line of sight, exaggerated movements and soft chirps drawing Al's attention away from his downward spiral. A second joins the first, then a third, fourth and fifth. They're following each in a figure eight pattern and harmonizing together

And Alastor is mesmerized by the scene, his smile small and exhausted but calm and less strained, radio static softer with a hint of a song coming into focus as the display calms him, breathing steady

And maybe this becomes a thing before they go to bed or when another Sleep Paralysis/Nightmare happens and maaaybe Alastor would inch closer and closer to Lucifer until their backs would touch and sleeping becomes a little bearable

[msklassickilla]

Prada You Chapter 14

Summary:

In the summer of 1998, sparks fly between Nyeya and Jey.

Nyeya is an 18-year-old around the way girl. Jey is older, paid, and fine. He is also the leader of the infamous Prada Bois alongside his twin brother Jimmy.  The two have chemistry. However, Nyeya has plans outside of her attraction. With a birthday around the corner and dreams of living a good life, Nyeya sets her sights on enjoying the perks of Jey's money and hood celebrity.

But baby girl has no clue what it takes to really be down. Nyeya is about to learn some hard life lessons at the expense of her 'Prada' priced dreams.

Pairing: Jey Uso x Nyeya (Nye) Green (OC)

Author’s Note: This story is happening in an alternative universe. It features the current and original Bloodline members along with other WWE stars. So, the characters are themselves, but some things are switched around for the stories sake. This was originally written with all original characters, but I think it could work better this way. Hope you guys enjoy it and I actually finish it...

Warning: Please be advised that this chapter contains harsh/foul language, age gap, manipulation.

Disclaimer: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story (if any). All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.

Want to read from the beginning? Click Here

If you wanna join the taglist for this story, just let me know! Taglist: @theusotwinzcom @nbanenefrmdao @queeny23

Chapter 14: Ties

The low hum of the box fan circled through the living room as I sat on the couch, arms folded, eyes locked on the television. The static on the screen flickered between music videos on BET, but my mind was far from whatever was playing. Across from me, Nataya flipped through the latest issue of Honey magazine, casually waiting for Jimmy to come pick her up.

Apparently, this was their new thing. He would come get her from my house instead of where they usually met up. Taya had almost got caught by her mama one day getting into Jimmy’s car. I allowed it as I understood.

The silence between us stretched until I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I had a lot on my mind. I needed some answers. A sounding board.

“Taya,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

She glanced up. “What’s up?”

I hesitated, then sighed. “It’s Jey. I don’t know what to do with him. Like I want this shit to work but he be buggin’. One minute we was fine, vibing. The next he trippin’ over small shit. I don’t know how to fix it.”

Nataya leaned back, twirling her bamboo earrings. “Girl, that’s Jey for you. He’s always been like that. Jimmy told me Jey’s been wired different since they were kids. He takes everything personal.”

I rubbed my hands over my face. “But it’s more than that. It’s like he doesn’t see how he’s pushing me away. I don’t know how to get him to see that he’s... too much. I’m literally telling him what’s the issue and he still not getting it.”

Nataya raised a brow. “You really think you can change him? Jey don’t change for nobody. He’s not like Jimmy. Jimmy got his problems, but he’s never gone off on me like Jey has with you. With Jey, it’s either you’re all in or you’re out. And if you’re out, it ain’t pretty from what Jimmy tells me.”

I bit my lip, her words settling like bricks in my chest. “So, what am I supposed to do?”

She shrugged, flipping a page. “You either set boundaries or get out now. But don’t play with him, Nyeya. That man doesn’t do half in.”

I fell silent, the weight of her words pressing on me. Maybe Nataya was right. I needed to figure this out before it spiraled any further.

---

The next day, I sat on my bed, staring at the cordless phone on my nightstand. My thumb hovered over the dial button, my mind racing. Every argument, every moment of sweetness, every threat—all of it tangled up inside me. Before I could talk myself out of it, I pressed the numbers.

Those 48 hours he had given me weren’t up just yet, but we needed a resolution. My birthday party was now 50 days away. I had to give him one more chance just to see if we could figure things out despite everything.

The phone rang twice before Jey answered. “What’s up?” His voice was calm, almost too calm.

“Hey, Jey. W- We need to talk. I think we just need to put it all on the table.”

There was a brief pause. “Good. I’ll be there around 8.”

The line went dead before I could respond. My hands were shaking. Being alone with Jey after everything just didn’t feel safe anymore but what was I supposed to do. Let his crazy ass come drag me out the apartment again. I couldn’t have that. If Jey and I couldn’t come to an agreement then I would walk away for good.

---

Jey’s black Lexus rumbled up to the curb in front of my building, headlights slicing through the dark. The bass from Mobb Deep’s, “Peer Pressure” track vibrated through the car’s frame. I lingered by the car for a second, nerves creeping up my spine. Then I inhaled sharply and opened the passenger door, sliding in.

The inside of the car was dim, lit only by the dull glow of the dashboard. The air was heavy with the scent of Hugo by Hugo Boss cologne and faint weed smoke that clung to the leather seats. Jey didn’t look at me right away, his grip tight on the steering wheel, jaw flexing.

“Took you long enough to call me,” he muttered, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

I crossed my arms, leaning back into the seat. “Jey, please alright. I just wanna talk, no arguing.”

He let out a slow breath, tapping his fingers on the wheel. “Then talk.”

I turned slightly toward him. “You need to chill. You can’t keep treating me like this. I made that promise because I expected you to treat me right. I ain’t done you nothing. So why you trippin’? Ain’t no need for all that.”

His jaw tensed, his knuckles turning white as his grip tightened. For a moment, I thought he was about to snap, but instead, he stared ahead in silence.

“So, you here to check me?” His tone was low, sharp, but under it, I caught a flicker of something else—hurt.

“No, I’m here because this back and forth isn’t working. I need to know if this is something we can fix or if we just not compatible.”

He finally turned his head to look at me, his eyes dark and unreadable. Then, without saying a word, he shifted the car into drive and pulled off, the city lights casting fleeting shadows over his face.

Jey didn’t say much as he drove, the hum of the engine and the low hum of the CD spinning in the player filling the space. The streets blurred until he pulled up in front of his building. Without a word, he cut the engine and stepped out. I hesitated for a second but followed him inside.

His apartment was dimly lit, the scent of cologne mixed with faint traces of incense clinging to the air. The leather furniture gleamed under the glow of a single lamp. It was quiet—eerily quiet.

Jey tossed his keys on the counter and leaned against it; arms crossed. "So, what you tryna say, Nyeya?"

I shifted uncomfortably, my eyes scanning the room before settling on him. "I don’t want to keep arguing. I messed up once. You not even giving me a chance to figure out where I stand with you especially considering who you are.”

My hands were folded over my chest now. I didn’t want to finish but I knew I had to get everything off my chest. “Jey, I’m not property either. Like you don’t own me. I ain’t out to hurt you so you don’t gotta act like you do.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t move. "You think I’m trying to own you? Nah. I’m tryna protect what’s mine. But if you can’t handle that... maybe you not ready for a man like me. Perhaps, I had it all wrong. Thought you was ready for me, Nye."

I clenched my fists, trying to keep calm. "You think this is protection? You’re smothering me, Jey. I need to breathe. You ain’t gotta act like that. I don’t want nobody but you."

The tears fell, rolling down my cheeks. I wanted Jey so bad, but I couldn’t keep on like this.

He pushed off the counter and closed the space between us, eyes locked on mine. "I don’t want to fight with you, Nye. I just want us to be good. But you gotta understand, people out here would love to see me hurt. And you being close to me? That puts you at risk. I can’t have that. Baby, I ain’t mean no harm."

His voice softened at the end, making me hesitate. This was the side of Jey that always pulled me back in—the part that made me believe maybe he was just misunderstood.

I sighed, my shoulders dropping. "Then meet me halfway. We can figure this out, but you gotta treat me better. I’m your equal, not your enemy."

Jey stared for a moment before nodding slowly. "Aight. Let’s figure this out. I’m willing to do whatever to keep you."

For the rest of the night, the tension between us slowly melted. We talked—really talked—for the first time in a while. He didn’t raise his voice, and I didn’t hold back. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something.

Finally, the conversation slowly faded into silence, but it wasn’t the heavy, suffocating kind. It was softer now, comfortable even. Jey reached out, brushing his fingertips against mine, testing the waters. I didn’t pull away.

Minutes turned into hours as we sat there, the tension unraveling thread by thread. His hand eventually slid over mine, his grip warm and steady. Without a word, he pulled me closer, letting me rest against him.

We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to.

For that moment, all the fights, all the warnings, they didn’t matter. It was fragile, but it was real.

Jey's hand moved slowly, tracing the curve of my jaw with a tenderness that felt unfamiliar coming from him. His fingertips were rough, calloused—a reminder of the world he lived in—but his touch was light, almost hesitant. Like he wasn’t sure if he should be holding me this way.

“I don’t like fighting with you, baby,” he murmured, his breath brushing against my skin.

“Then stop giving us reasons to,” I whispered, my voice softer than I intended.

His eyes searched mine for a beat too long before his lips finally met mine. The kiss was slow, deliberate—not the kind that tried to prove a point or erase mistakes, but the kind that asked for forgiveness without saying it. I leaned into it, into him, letting my defenses crumble just for a moment.

Jey deepened the kiss, his hand sliding down to the small of my back, pulling me closer like he was afraid I might slip away. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, clinging to him as if the world outside that apartment didn’t exist.

We moved together, unspoken words filling the gaps between touches. Every kiss, every brush of his hand over my skin, felt like he was trying to rewrite the story we’d been stuck in. And maybe I wanted him to.

But even in the quiet of the moment, something in me remained tense—a small, gnawing reminder that this wasn’t safety. This was surrender.

Later, when the room had gone still and Jey drifted off beside me, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling. His arm draped over my waist felt heavier than it should have, like a weight I wasn’t sure I could carry. But for tonight, I let it stay.

Because tonight, pretending felt easier than leaving.

---

The morning light crept through the blinds of Jey’s apartment, casting thin slivers of gold across the floor. I blinked slowly, realizing where I was. His steady breathing beside me was the only sound filling the room. For a brief moment, things felt... still.

But that peace didn’t last. My mind was already racing. Last night blurred between soft words and touches that felt both comforting and suffocating. We’d reached a fragile truce, but I couldn’t ignore the way Jey’s grip on me lingered—tight, possessive.

I shifted slightly, careful not to wake him, and sat on the edge of the bed. I stared at my hands, fingers nervously twisting together. My stomach tightened. Last night felt like a step forward, but now it felt like I was tiptoeing around something dangerous, something I couldn't fully name.

Before I could gather my thoughts, I heard him stir behind me.

“You good, mama?” Jey’s voice was low and rough from sleep.

I hesitated. “Yeah... I’m fine.”

He reached out, pulling me back into him, his arm heavy over my waist. “Don’t overthink shit, Nye. We good now, right? It’s you and me ..for life.”

I didn’t answer immediately. “Yeah. We good, babe. Me and you. The two of us.”

But my voice didn’t sound convincing—not even to me.

---

Later that night, Jey called me while I was at home, telling me to get ready. “We going out. Don’t ask where, just be ready.”

An hour later, Jey’s Lexus rumbled up to the curb. The hum of the CD player filled the car with the smooth sounds of Aaliyah’s, “Are You That Somebody, a surprising change from his usual aggressive beats. I slid into the passenger seat, the leather cool against my skin.

“You look good, baby,” he muttered, eyes on the road as he pulled off.

I didn’t respond, keeping my eyes on the passing streets. We drove in tense silence, the city slowly thinning out as we turned onto quieter roads. My stomach twisted in knots the farther we went.

Eventually, Jey slowed the car in front of a tucked-away lounge behind a strip mall. The flickering neon sign barely lit up the cracked pavement. Jey killed the engine and stepped out without a word, forcing me to follow.

Inside, the air was thick with weed smoke and the beat of DMX’s, “Get at Me Dog” vibrating through cheap speakers. The room was dim, shadows moving along the walls. Familiar voices murmured in low tones. Then I saw them.

Damian. Jacob. Sami. And Solo.

Damian’s cold eyes locked on mine, hard and unblinking. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. But that look? It was enough. Remember what I told you.

Jey’s hand slipped to the small of my back, guiding me forward. “Come meet the family. Don’t be shy.”

Jacob glanced up, smirking. “Oh, so this her? Finally bringing her around, huh?”

Solo leaned back; arms crossed. “Bout time. She had yo’ ass out there in that heat actin’ a fool uce.”

Jey chuckled, lighting a Black & Mild with slow, deliberate movements. “Yeah, she’s family now.” His hand tightened on my waist, firm and unyielding. “We finally got shit together. She ready to stand ten down behind me.”

I forced a smile, though my pulse quickened. Damian’s stare burned into me, but I kept my focus on Jey, pretending to be comfortable.

Conversations drifted into talk about money, moves, and territory. Jey leaned in, casually asking me what I thought about throwing a party for one of the guys. It seemed innocent, but I knew better.

“She’s got good ideas. I like her. She can be useful,” Sami muttered, tipping his glass.

“That’s why she’s here. My baby got class. Shit ‘bout to be live,” Jey smirked, squeezing my side.

Minutes dragged on. Damian still hadn’t looked away.

Then, Jey leaned close, his breath warm against my ear. “See? This is what it looks like when you trust me. I got you as long as you got me.”

My stomach churned, but I managed a weak smile. I was deeper in than I wanted to admit. Jey was really pulling me into the middle of the ocean with him. And I didn’t know if I could swim but I had no choice but to try. For my man.

Then Jey reached into his jacket and pulled out a small velvet box. Slowly, he opened it—a custom gold bracelet, gleaming under the low light. Etched into the surface in sharp, clean letters were the words Belongs to a Prada Boi. The engraving glinted, catching the attention of everyone nearby.

Without asking, he clasped it onto my wrist, his touch deliberate.

Jacob let out a low whistle. "Damn, Uce. You really stamped her."

Sami chuckled, leaning back in his seat. "Ain’t no mistaking who she with now."

Solo smirked but said nothing, his eyes briefly flicking to the bracelet before returning to his drink.

Damian’s expression didn’t change, but the tightness in his jaw said enough. His cold stare lingered on me, heavy with unspoken words.

“Now everyone knows who you belong to.”

And Damian? He watched me intently. Could he sense I was unsettled? I stared down at the bracelet, the words staring back at me like a brand. Belongs to a Prada Boi.

My chest tightened. This wasn’t an ordinary gift—it was a silent claim. A reminder that Jey wasn’t just anybody; he was the leader of the Prada Bois. The one who called the shots and took people out at will. And now, he was making sure everyone knew I was part of it.

He knew what he was doing. Instead of saying it aloud, he said it in a subtle way. I swallowed hard, forcing a small smile, but my mind was racing. The weight of the bracelet was heavier than the gold it was made of—it was the weight of every choice I’d made, every warning I’d ignored.

[kimuby-am]

Rosie’s Care

Hi, this is my first fan fiction, i hope you can enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it.

English is not my first language, so feel free to DM me any correction.

Title: Rosie’s Care

Pair: Alastor/Rosie, Platonic RadioRose

Summary: Alastor shows up in Rosie’s apartment feeling quite off and circumstances lead to unexpected confessions.

Word count: 4,318

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rosie waved charmingly as her last customer walked out of her emporium, her soft smile revealing how tired she was after a day of work: being the overlord in charge of Cannibal Town wasn’t an easy task, but she always pride herself at the sight of her immaculate city. Despite it being filled with blood thirsty cannibals not a droplet of blood could be seen in the streets, every piece of meet was sourced from her emporium and consumed in the privacy of their fancy houses.

Rosie leaned on the counter for a second before regaining her composure. She took out a keychain from a drawer under the counter. The keychain was a small dried head adorned with roses and beads, a cute little gift given by her first husband when she opened the emporium; the sight of it almost made Rosie think if she were too hard on him when she killed him during a fight over her “role as a wife”. The keychain held a small golden key. Rosie put the small key in to the lock of the front door and before twisting it she glanced at the empty shop, searching for any intruder, then she closed the door and turned the elegant sign on the door from “open” to “closed”. She took the key and put it back on the drawer, letting out a small sigh signaling that her day was finally over.

At the left corner of her shop there’s a spiral staircase that lead to her small apartment over the emporium. One could think that an overlord like her would live in a big mansion, of course money wasn’t a problem, but living alone for the vast majority of time Rosie found herself enjoying much more the small and cozy rooms of this apartment making her rent al her other houses to the new cannibals arriving in hell. Once on top of the small metallic staircase she faces the beautiful wine red door that leads into her apartment, wood carved with roses and elegant patterns. She elegantly took another key from her sleeve held by an elegant ribbon to her wrist.

The inside of her apartment is a triumph of red, white and bordeaux intensified by the reddish hue of the sunset.

She couldn’t even relax for one second that the smallest off sound made her alert, sending shivers down her spine, not quite understanding what could it be. She took off her shoes and not letting out a sound, she approached the noise. The more steps she took the more the sound was clear. It was a song covered in heavy static. She let out a heavy sig in relief, there was only one person she knew that could enter into her house unnoticed and play soothing jazz. “Oh my stars, Alastor!” She chirped amused by the presence of her best friend, adrenaline still running through her veins from the worry she had before. The demon did not respond to her cheerful greeting. She raised an eyebrow in confusion, still approaching the sound coming from the living room. She heard a distinct click and the song changed. Was her friend sleeping? She knew Alastor well, and she remembered from the few times he let himself sleep in front of her that he shuffled through Radio stations during his sleep, mirroring his mood. But this time was different, the static was so strong she could barely hear the songs played, something was a bit off. She wiped away does thoughts as she finally decide to enter the living room: it is a pretty large space with an armchair opposing a small couch both covered in a soft velvety brown fabric, the walls are decorated with an elegant rose themed wallpaper where was hung a painting made by her of a skull with a pretty red flower. From the ceiling hung a terracotta pot from where seem to fall a beautiful green plant with big leaves in stark contrast with the dominating red ambient. In the centre of the room is positioned a red and black carpet resembling a mandala motif, on top of it a small table. The light source of the room is a huge window now covered with thick black curtains that didn’t let even the smallest sunlight ray to seep through it. Fortunately the light from the room she was coming from was enough to let Rosie analyze the scene.

She saw a red hoof coming out from the side of the armchair. She chuckled in amusement as she couldn’t quite understand in what position her friend was lying, but at the same time she couldn’t shake off the thought that something was off. Alastor wasn’t one that lost composure even in front of his best friend.

She finally stepped in front of her friend, a small smile rose in her face as she ate the scene before her with her big empty eyes: the mighty radio demon was crunched on the small brown armchair, the right side of his body was pressed against the armrest where lied his right arm, head tilted to the side resting on his shoulder, pressure creasing his lightly red tinted cheek making him look soft. His right leg was extended on the opposite armrest, while the left leg was folded, his hoof picking out of a small gap between the seat and his other leg, left arm gently rested on his body. His overcoat was hung on the human bone hanger he gifted her when she chose to live in this apartment. His bow tie was untied and his hears were gently pulled behind. Alastor was a monster to everyone that hadn’t had the pleasure to know him, but to Rosie, especially in this moments, he looked rather cute and harmless.

Rosie was looking at him for almost five minutes and when she noticed it she couldn’t help but blush, if Alastor could see this scene he wouldn’t let go the opportunity to joke about it.

With cat like steps she got in to her bedroom.

Rosie’s bedroom is dark and oppressive, walls are covered in wine red wallpaper, the forniture is made in ebony and her queen sized bed is covered in black silk sheets. The room small and crowded is set in a way that makes navigating through ti easy. The bed stands glorious in the centre of the room, at its left there’s a bed side table with a rose shaped lamp and a book on top of it, at its right a desk towered by a big mirror framed with a golden metal giving the illusion of a big virtual space.

The wardrobe stood at the right of the door, modest and filled with sober outfits. Opposing the mirror a big door window, covered in black curtains, that lead to a small balcony from where you can see all Cannibal Town.

She opened a drawer from the wardrobe and took a dark red blanket. Rosie was swinging around her house without making even the slightest sound, trying to not wake up her friend. Once returned in the living room Rosie stood under the sunlight for a moment, admiring Alastor sleeping another time: his soft hair, his immaculate skin and the way his lips curled into a soft smile. Rosie let out a small sigh finding herself watching the demon again with that emotion that didn’t want to leave her; she couldn’t deny she fell in love with Alastor a long time ago and she believed she got past it, but when she looked at him like this she couldn’t shake the sparkle of feeling in her heart.

She opened the carefully folded blanket with a swift and elegant motion, putting it on top of his friend, gently tacking it around his body. Alastor didn’t move while his sleeping brain continued shuffling through various radio stations. She moved behind the armchair caressing the soft velvet with her fingertips, reaching his head. Her fingers were interlaced with his soft locks. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss on top of his head, her lips were gentle and warm; Rosie felt like she could hear the trouble inside the Radio Demon’s head and She hope she could take out some with every little act of affection.

Rosie exhausted by the day and all those emotions tried to walk to her bedroom once more seeking the rest she deserved, but two black shadow tentacles grabbed her e pushed her on top of Alastor who let out a loud squeak like a little fawn. He enveloped her with the blanket she gave him chuckling all along while she was struggling to escape “Alastor, let me go” she let out a little laugh, they were playing. “Ahahah! Never going to happen” he said, but surprisingly Rosie managed to escape Alastor’s grip with a few pulls. Alastor wasn’t the kind of person to let others win so easily even in this kind of silly games, this made Rosie worry even more “dear, is everything all right? I was hoping our little game of prey and predator lasted a little bit longer” she say purposefully mockingly, if she wanted others information she couldn’t let herself show worry for him; “everything is splendid my dear” Alastor dismissed her question rapidly, a red tint was blooming on Alastor’s cheeks. He was panting softly and his forehead looked glistened, even if it was difficult to see due to the lack of light inside the room. A strange worrisome puzzle started to form inside Rosie’s mind. Now it was time to put on a clever play. “Oh Alastor, I’ve missed you sooo much” she said putting on a cheerful facade “let me give you a kiss”, she leaned forward making clear the intention to press a kiss on his forehead and he waited for it with eyes closed ready to savor the moment. Her lips touched his skin as gentle as a feather, she could feel the intense heat coming from the demon and the worry came out full and clear in Rosie’s next words “oh my goodness Alastor your very hot” he lightly chuckled in response ignoring the strong sense of worry in her words “now now Rosie, this is an inappropriate comment to make”, she rolled her eye before replying “you know that’s not what I meant, you clearly have a fever”. Alastor let out a long long sigh shrinking in is chair, his smile gently softening “i’m afraid you’re right my friend, i’m feeling quite off…” Rosie gave him a tender look “and then you came here so no one could see you like this…you know, the Hazbin Hotel is a safe place for you too, maybe if you just let go with them like you do with me-“, he interrupted her “NO Rosie I CAN’T” there was some kind of disperation in is voice, eyes like radio dials ticking away. Rosie stood there in silence while a guilty look appeared on Alastor’s face “I’m sorry, i didn’t want to…it’s complicated, i know i said i was getting accostumed to them, but they aren’t like you…you’re more than a friend to me…we’re like…partners!”. Emotions stroke Rosie’s heart like an arrow and a deep red blush rosed in her cheeks while she was trying to avoid eye contact at every cost but after a moment she regained her composure “Alastor, you flatter me sweetheart” a tinge of sadness in her words “you know, we should really go to sleep, you can stay here if you want”. Alastor let out a light static noise “can i sleep with you?” The sudden question made Rosie blush even more, she knew Alastor for almost a century by now and every now and then he had is affection episodes, but he never suggested to sleep together. “Of course dear” she said softly, offering a hand to him to get up. He took it and got up.

Alastor could feel his head spinning and sight blurring, legs threatening to give up beneath him, so he stood there for a minute before taking the first step toward Rosie’s bedroom. He dropped himself on the bed with all his weight causing it to barely move. “I’ll take an ice bag, maybe it will help you lower your temperature” Rosie said with a gentle smile. He loves her smile, it reminds him of his mother’s. “No please, stay here Rosie” he said, almost whispering, conjuring an ice bag with a small movement of his hand, “sweetie, you should not use you’re powers in this state, just rest please” she said while gently positioning the ice bag on top of head. He chuckled a little bit “i’m not a kid, i’ve been sick other times”, Rosie raised an eyebrow and replid with a smug tgrin on her face “then why you came here? You could’ve picked an empty room if you wanted to hide from your hotel friends”. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks another time, his thoughts swirling in his head while trying to figure out why did he go there on the first place, but thinking of going in any other place, even in his room alone (without her) enveloped his heart with a sense of unease, it didn’t felt right, his reaction to the sickness was pure instinct. He tried to play it ‘cool’ “I just needed a distraction to shake off this fever, nothing more”. Rosie put on an hungry face and a gave him her back while going to the bathroom to change in her nightgown “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m very tired, i won’t provide any ‘distraction’, feel free to leave if this isn’t what you needed” SLAM! She sclosed the door behind her emitting a loud noise that made Alastor’s ears twitch in disconfort, his had bursting from all the thoughts: why he always had to turn everyone down?

At this point he was barey smiling. He put the ice bag on the bedside table and stood up from the bed, legs barely holding his light weight, managing to reach the bathroom door leaning on the walls.

He let his weight drop hitting the door with his back, the impact generating a gentle thud. Then he slid down to the floor. “I’m sorry Rosie…i didn’t mean to offend you” his voice was barely audible, “but you did Alastor” she replied harshly. His head hurt even more from all the noise of the thoughts in his mind: how to apologize with his best friend? Should he say the truth? Should he make up another lie?

Thinking was hard enough at that moment and making up a good lie required a lot of thinking. Another wave of pure guilt hit him even harder then the pounding of his head. For the first time in his afterlife lying wasn’t an option.

He took the biggest breath he could “listen Rosie, i’m really sorry, you mean a lot to me, i know i’m not the best of friends…you’ve always been here when i needed it…but you can’t say the same for me…and then i show up and offend you just to save me from the embarrassment of admitting that i need help, that i don’t want to stay alone…that i want to stay with you…” his heart was racing at this point, moved by a new emotion, one that rose after admitting to himself and her that he wanted to stay with her. The silence was unbearable, at some point the idea that she wasn’t even there, slightly touched his mind.

“Oh dear boy, you’re not a bad friend…i know that it can get hard for you to understand feelings, but i’m glad you said you like my company” she opened the door making Alastor fall on his back, he tried to push himself from the ground, but his energy was completely drained at this point. She leaned down and took him bridal style “shall we go to sleep now?” He nodded lightly with heat crawling to his face “you shouldn’t have left the bad anyway…” Alastor sighed, hi lips curled in to the softest smile ever “i couldn’t let you think i didn’t care about you”. Rosie couldn’t help but smile at this little revelation, of course she knew that Alastor cares about her but she couldn’t deny that her hearts crave reassurance.

Rosie gently dropped Alastor on the bad, that’s when he saw Rosie in her nightgown: a long black silky vest with elegant red hand sew details, it looked almost too good to be kept inside the bedroom, he couldn’t stop thinking of how beautiful his friend looked. “Now now Alastor, what’s with all this staring, i hope you can’t see through clothes, do you?” She said teasingly and Alastor once again could feel pervaded with embarrassment. With a swift movement he turned, back facing Rosie. She raised an eyebrow. She lightly touched his shoulder “my dear, you’re really sensitive and i’m not sure it is the fever’s fault…are you alright Alastor?”, he turned to face Rosie eyes locked to his hands fidgeting with the buttons of his shirt “i find you very beautiful Rosie” his voice was tender and soft.”Is that what made you upset?” She said a little bit confused, he didn’t say anything, eyes still down “never mind…You’re quite handsome too my deer friend” she said softly, cupping his cheek with one hand. After some minutes of silence passed watching the ceiling and caressing his friend’s hair Rosie spoke again “can you not conjure up something more comfortable to wear for the night?” He slowly made a no with his head “i’m afraid i have no energy left, i can barely move”, Rosie looked at him like the next thing she was going to say was illegal “i don’t mind if…you know…if you slept in your underwear…at least you’ll be comfortable-“, “but i don’t want to make you uncomfortable” he interrupted her “i insist Alastor, it’s not like i haven’t seen you in your underwear already”, “context matters more than anything my dear” he said desperately, Rosie had a severe look in her eye “how can you heal from this fiver if you can’t properly rest? You also need to lower your body temperature and all those layers aren’t doing you any favor” he proceed to open his mouth to reply…but she was right, he needed to heal fast to return to the hotel without raising any suspect. He let out another long sigh “ok Rosie, you won, but I can’t do it all myself…would you mind giving me a hand?” She let out a soft chuckle, stopped caressing him and booped his nose “there’s no problem” she could feel her face turning tomato red but couldn’t turn her back to her friend.

She sat next to him and helped him unbutton his shirt and his pants, then she gave him support tu raise enough his bust to take off the shirt and vest. His pants slid off easily. Both sides were embarrassed, friends should not do this things, but they were like no others friends, they were more…but not like Rosie would’ve hoped a long time ago.

They both fell asleep shortly after, the night going smooth like silk as they both were exhausted.

Rosie was the first to wake up, only to find out that Alastor was hugging her. She felt the warmth of his skin on hers, time marked by his gentle breathing. He looked so peaceful and innocent under the soft light of the sunrise seeping through the heavy curtains. Alastor surely was more then a friend to her and she was slowly realizing that; it wasn’t like the crush she had before for him, before knowing he’s ace. That desire that burnt in her was extinguished a long time ago. Now, after almost a century, after various failed marriages, she needed something different, something she can feel only with Alastor, but on the other hand she also feels the need to be open about her feelings for him and this is where doubt threat to suffocate her…how could her friend possibly take her feelings for him? She knew very well how complex he is, how every interaction with others inside his brain is twisted and contorted by the trauma of his past life. Rosie was prepared to keep her feelings a secret for another century at least.

Her introspection was brought to an end by her friend waking up. “Good morning Rosie, did you sleep well?” Rosie had still a serious expression on her face “Good morning, I slept well, how do you feel?” She responded still distracted by her stream of thoughts. Alastor was visibly tired even if he just woke up, his all body feeling heavy like a rock, the only confort coming from the embrace with Rosie that now he was doubting to be well accepted given the serious expression on his friends face. He was about to pull out of the hug, when he felt Rosie embrace him tight. “I cans see your still out of energy dear, don’t worry, i’ll let one of my coworkers open the emporium today so i’ll take care of you”, this was only half the truth, she wanted to take care of Alastor, but she was also taking advantage of his vulnerable state to understand how far she could go, how far she could express her feeling without him running away from her. Despite hi slender and sharp figure Alastor is quite soft and comfortable to hug, his chest is covered in soft fur and his skin his warm and silky smooth. Now that Alastor was shirtless she could even see the scar left from the battle with heaven, the one that she helped stitch and heal; he didn’t talk much about what happend but she could see the pain, the anger, how scared he was after the battle.

“No Rosie, i can’t let you miss your duties form me, i’ll be fine” he said after a while with concerned voice; he couldn’t understand why she even cared that much. “No Alastor, you’re not fine, you’re still weak as a newborn fawn, you’re temperature is still concerning and you can’t even use your magic for the simplest tasks, be real now, how could you even take care of yourself?” Rosie’s voice sounded more concerned and exasperated that she would’ve liked to. The Radio Demon clenched his fists, his eyes grew bigger and and the void within them looked like it could suck out light around them, his irises were bright red against the pitch black of his sclera and his pupils turned into radio dials “why do you care so much Rosie? Why are you always willing to sacrifice everything form me?” His voice was heavily coated in static while he was letting out past memories in to this questions. On the other hand Rosie didn’t even flinch for a second, she knew Alastor wouldn’t never hurt her. She could feel Alastor’s reaction wasn’t caused solely by her previous statement. She embraced him even tighter and let out a sigh as what she was about to say could start an apocalypse, her mind and heart completely flooded with emotions “Alastor, i care because i love you…”, this words carried much more than what you could except between friends and Alastor could feel them piercing through his heart like an arrow and he couldn’t help but stiffen a her ‘confession’ “Rosie, you know….well at least i hope you would’ve understood by now…” he was fighting to let does words come out “i can’t love you like…other man could do…you deserve better than this…” little tears started to form on the corner of his eyes and his smile was barely there. Rosie looked at him with her most tender look, his heart threatening to explode from his friends words “my dear, I know you can’t love me like other mans would…” she took his hands and gave them a gentle squeeze “…i had quite a few husbands in this past century and i had the kind of love your talking about, but that’s not what i need anymore…i need you”. Alastor looked confused his hands tight onto Rosie’s, “why would you need me? I’m not even good as a friend…Rosie, listen…i’ve been in love with you for years but i know i can’t give you what you need…i will never be romantic, i will never have sex with you…i just didn’t want to tight you into this horrible idea of a relationship i have”…he was devastated and could feel his friendship crumble under his confession, why did he confessed? He would have savor another century or more of his friendship with her. His face was lined by tears as his mind rushed with regretful thoughts. Soon his train of thought was stopped by a small kiss on his wet cheek “Dear, i don’t need you to be romantic or to have sex, i understood it wasn’t an option for you a long time ago… i just” a big smile formed into Rosie’s face “i just want to share a stronger connection with you, i want to snuggle and cuddle with you, to return home and spend the rest of the day with you, to take care of you and call you mine”. Alastor was speechless, it was like she could read his deepest needs and put them in to words and soon the sorrow that pervaded his being was gone and a he could feel a warm feeling filling his old heart. He gave her a tender smile while she wiped away his tears from her cheeks “this is all i ever wanted”. As this words settled down in to the room Alastor and Rosie could finally let out the tension with a big warm laugh that filled the entire bedroom and their hearts.

[cydonianart]

No nuance, only hot takes.

[letterstoalonewolf]

What Will I Become? (Song Series)

​​ Jacob Black x Reader

Summary: Y/N finds herself drawn to Jacob in a way that feels both inevitable and unbearable. As emotions crackle like static in the air, they must confront the shadows of their connection—and the secrets threatening to break them apart—before it’s too late.

Based on the song: California Nights by David Kushner

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"Nothing's wrong but it ain't right What's this battle deep inside? Oh, my eyes say it all..."

The ocean roared against the jagged cliffs of La Push, moonlight fracturing over the restless tide. Jacob stood at the edge, his chest heaving with breaths that sounded more like growls, staring into the chasm of black water as if the answer to his torment might surface with the waves.

"Jacob," Y/N called softly, her voice nearly swept away by the wind.

He stiffened but didn’t turn, his frame silhouetted against the cold glow of the moon. "You shouldn’t be here, Y/N."

Her steps faltered as a weight pressed against her chest, heavy and aching. There was something in his voice—fractured and raw—that made her question everything. But she didn’t leave. She never did when it came to Jacob.

"I couldn’t just let you walk away like that," she said, coming closer despite the tension rolling off him in palpable waves.

"Born into a fight Staring at the sky Scared of what's above Oh, what will I become?"

Jacob finally turned, his eyes meeting hers. The pain she saw there was like a punch to the stomach, and her knees nearly gave out beneath her. His normally warm brown irises burned, as if he were battling something she couldn’t see—something far bigger than himself.

“I’m not safe, Y/N,” he said, his voice tight and low, as though the words were choking him on their way out. “You don’t get it. You’re better off without me.”

Her laugh was hollow, a sharp contrast to the tenderness she usually carried in her heart for him. “Better off? I’m tethered to you, Jacob. You think I don’t feel it too? Whatever this is, it’s not something I can just walk away from. Even if I wanted to.”

He flinched as though her words physically struck him, and she realized it wasn’t the intensity of her feelings he feared. It was his own.

"Nothing's wrong but it ain't right What's this battle deep inside?"

"You don’t understand," Jacob muttered, raking a hand through his hair as his breathing grew heavier. “Every time I get close to you, it feels like I’m burning alive. And I can’t... I can’t control it. The wolf in me wants you in ways I can’t handle.”

Y/N’s breath caught. She knew about the imprinting, had pieced together the puzzle of his odd behavior over the months. But hearing him admit it was like stepping into a storm—terrifying and electric all at once.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said, taking a step closer. Her voice was soft but resolute. “I’m afraid for you, Jacob. Whatever this is—this war inside you—you don’t have to face it alone.”

His eyes closed briefly, as though her words were too much to bear. When they opened, they locked on hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "You think I’m scared of losing control? It’s worse than that, Y/N. I’m scared of losing you."

"Living takes Silent roars Is this fate Or something more?"

The admission hung in the air between them, fragile yet unshakable. Y/N stepped closer still, until the space between them felt like it might dissolve entirely.

“Jacob,” she whispered, her hand hesitating before resting on his chest. His heart thundered beneath her touch, erratic and wild. “You won’t lose me. Not unless you push me away.”

His hand came up, cupping her cheek with a tenderness that sent her heart spiraling. “You have no idea how much I want to believe that,” he murmured, his voice breaking on the last word.

Y/N’s resolve hardened. She reached up and pressed her hand over his, keeping it there. “Then believe it,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm raging in her chest.

"Mama, come and hold me tight 'Cause I don't think I'll survive Oh, I don't think I'll survive..."

The moment stretched, time itself slowing as Jacob’s inner battle played out across his face. The tension in his shoulders eased ever so slightly, and for the first time that night, he let himself look at her without reservation.

“You’re not scared of me,” he said, the faintest hint of wonder in his voice.

“No,” she replied simply. “I’m scared of losing you. There’s a difference.”

Something shifted in the air between them, the weight of unspoken truths lifting as their gazes held. Jacob let out a shaky breath and pulled her into his arms, holding her as though she were the only thing tethering him to the earth.

And maybe, in that moment, she was.

The roar of the waves faded into the background, the wind stilling as if even nature had paused to bear witness.

“You’re my anchor,” Jacob whispered into her hair, the words barely audible but earth-shattering nonetheless. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Y/N tightened her hold on him, her fingers digging into his back. “You don’t have to find out,” she said fiercely.

As the moonlight bathed them in its cold glow, the two stood at the edge of the world—two souls caught in a storm of fate and fear, yet holding onto each other as if they’d never let go.

"What am I inside? A war that I can't find I don't feel at home Dead in the catacomb."

Jacob pulled back just enough to look at her, his hands framing her face as though she might vanish if he let go. “I’ll fight it,” he promised, his voice low and gravelly. “Whatever it takes, Y/N, I’ll fight it for you.”

She shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes. “Don’t fight it for me, Jacob. Fight it with me.”

The words struck him like a bolt of lightning, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Jacob smiled—a small, tentative thing that held more hope than anything else.

As their foreheads touched, Y/N closed her eyes, her heart beating in time with his. For better or worse, they were bound together. And as the night stretched on, the battle within Jacob no longer felt like one he had to face alone.

Because she was his, just as he was hers. And nothing—not even the storm within—could take that away.

➽─────────────❥➽─────────────❥

[loweffortopinions]

Davrin’s Scene with Eldrin 

This was supposed to be a post about the positive aspects of Veilguard, but somehow it spiraled into how I’d rewrite the scene between Davrin and Eldrin. Happy reading, I guess? Let’s start with the original dialogue snippet as it plays out. You meet an elf named Eldrin who clearly knows Davrin. Eventually, you ask him to tell you something about Davrin:

Eldrin: “He sang a lot.”

Rook: “This guy?”

Eldrin: “He’d sing to the halla.”

Rook: “You mean the Grey Warden standing next to me?”

Davrin: “Now hold on—I’d get tired herding them, so I’d hum to keep myself awake, and they slowed down to listen!”

Rook: “So naturally you broke into song.”

Davrin: “Only when humming didn’t work. Just getting the job done.”

Eldrin: “And now the job is caretaker to a griffon.”

Rook (Choice): Diplomatic/Amused/Stern

Eldrin: “Seems my old lessons sunk in. Not every creature in the forest is quarry.”

Davrin: “I didn’t ignore everything you said.

I like this scene. It’s fun, cute and wholesome. That said, it’s not perfect. The dialogue is clunky for one. So let's tackle it!

New Scene Setup: In a quiet clearing of the Arlathan Forest, an older Dalish elf stands beside a lone halla, stroking it gently. Around him, the faint hum of activity carries from other elves tending to their duties, though they keep to themselves. As you approach, the elf looks up, his posture stiffening. His expression is wary, but when his gaze lands on Davrin, his shoulders ease, and a faint smile forms on his lips.

You exchange pleasantries, and then ask him to share something about Davrin. He chuckles softly before speaking:

Eldrin: (Pauses thoughtfully, then grins) “He used to sing to the halla.” Rook: (Amused, raises an eyebrow) “Is that so?” Davrin: (Slightly defensive) “Now hold on—" Eldrin: (With a knowing smile) That’s right. As I recall, you had a thing for 'The White Stag’s Lament'. Always humming about Ghilan’nain and her journey home. Even the halla seemed to know it by heart after a while. Davrin: (There is a shift in his expression when Ghilan’nain is mentioned) "I wasn't doing it for fun. Herding halla’s exhausting, so I hummed to stay awake. That they slowed down was just a bonus." Eldrin: (Teasing) “Funny, I seem to remember a lot more singing than humming.” Davrin: (half-joking, half-defensive) "I only sang when humming didn’t work!"

(At this point, Assan interrupts, trotting up to Davrin and nudges him for attention. Davrin hands him a snack and pats him on the head.)

Eldrin: (smiling) “I see some of my old lessons finally stuck."

(Davrin shrugs, but there’s no hiding the softness in his expression as Assan nudges him for another pat.)

Davrin: (glances at Eldrin, voice is softer) “I didn’t ignore everything you said... some of it stuck, whether I wanted it to or not.”

Disclaimer: I don't claim to be an expert, I’m just doing this for fun. I'm not taking a jab at the original author of this scene. I have the luxury of shitposting on the internet, which gives me ultimate creative freedom without the constraints of actual game development, take this for what it is.

This is pretty much how I’d go about it if I wrote it. I’d probably change a whole lot more if I went through the entire scene, but I’ll leave it at this unless someone wants me to dive deeper.

Thought process

Context: Eldrin doesn’t know about the whole… elven gods running amok situation, and Davrin chooses not to burden him with it.

Let Eldrin and Davrin have their moment without Rook interrupting every other line.

Add more immersion! Instead of characters standing around, I'd have them interact with their surroundings. Too many scenes in Veilguard feel static, like the world is waiting for you to show up.

Add more information! As it's written, we don’t really learn anything new about Davrin: We already know he has a soft side and tends to be practical. So I added a connection to Ghilan'nain.

[grandwretch]

a snippet from something empath steve that I'm never going to finish

Later, while Steve cleaned the snot and tears from his face, Robin watched him soberly from the toilet. She sat sideways, cross-legged on the closed seat, balanced precariously and stared up at him. Steve ignored her gaze, rubbing at his face until it stung.

"So," she said, eventually. Her words were careful, as if any poorly chosen phrase could send Steve into another spiral. "Can I ask... why Eddie?"

It was a question with many interpretations. Why care fixate Eddie, when so many people Steve had grown up with had died in the last week? Why sob yourself to sleep over someone you had barely known? What was it about Eddie that haunted Steve far beyond the vague ache of failure? Why was Steve's grief for one man strong enough to block out the pain and suffering of an entire town in mourning?

"Did I ever tell you why I fell in love with Nancy?" he said, instead of answering any of those questions.

Robin hesitated, then shook her head.

"The thing about emotions is that they don't make sense. I know I compared it to noise, before, but it's not-- It's not like a song. It's not even like a bunch of different songs played at once. It's more like being in a room with twenty radios, and all of them might change channels at any time. They all have their own rhythms, their own triggers-- And I can figure it out, sure, but it takes time and effort and sometimes I just... can't be bothered."

"Does my radio at least play something good?" Robin asked, raising an eyebrow. She was trying to distract him, tease him away from her own question-- An automatic response after seeing the pained look on his face. God, Steve loved her.

"We have the same radio," he said, waving his hand. Which was true, mostly. Sometimes, during the worst spirals he would feel a little pressure from Robin, but outside of that her emotions were felt just like his own-- in his own heart, not against his skin. "Not the point."

Robin grinned.

"Nance's mind is one of the steadiest I've ever felt. I was, like, addicted to it. Even when we were going through the worst shit we've ever been through, she was like a rock, and I-- I loved that. I needed that. And then..." Steve swallowed, his gaze flitting back to the mirror above the sink. He still looked ill, pale and gaunt. "I realized she wasn't, really. I thought she was the rock, and instead, it's just walls. I never... I never really figured out how to get past them. Probably never will."

"Steve..." Robin began, a frown starting to form on her face, but Steve cut her off with a shake of his head.

"No, 'cause, see-- Eddie was steady, too, right? So I thought, oh, good, more walls, don't want anything to do with that, and then--" Steve closed his eyes, letting himself remember the way Eddie's emotions had felt butting up against Steve's, the way the warmth had enveloped him even as he shivered through the shock and cold.

"Eddie was steady the way the ocean is steady. He was so alive," Steve continued, choking on the word, "and so warm, always moving but you could-- You could just float along on his train of thought. He was always just there, all around, pressing in. He never hid his emotions, but it didn't hurt. No static. It was like the tides coming in. I don't... I don't think I've ever felt that safe in someone's emotions, before. And I guess... I guess I'm having trouble processing that I might never feel it again."

[alovesongtheywrote]

hi i just binged nightmare academia and i’m deeply deeply obsessed with you and your writing. it’s 2 am in the morning. (worth it)

♥ Summary: dkfhskdfj big thank you, that's genuinely such an honour- i really hope you like this chapter!! im posting it at 4 am bc night owl solidarity <3 In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, a community recuperates and Spencer comes back to you. [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: gun violence, grief, hospitals, and mentions of alcohol

♥ A/N: fun fact: on the ao3 cross post, this chapter and the one after it are named after hozier lyrics. im a basic bitch, it's work song

♥ Word Count: 2297

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

There was a shooting near the community center.  

You weren’t there at the time.  You weren’t even close.  You were at home when it happened, and you were at home when you found out.  The little jingle for breaking news stories cut through the ambient sounds of a droning weather report, replacing it with something more intense than a report on the rain.

In an instant, images of the community center surrounded by police cars, wandering officers, and caution tape filled your screen.  You froze, blood turning to ice as you watched the police mill around your second place of work.  You could feel your extremities growing colder and colder as your mind slipped off into shock.  Someone had been shot.  Someone was hurt.  Part of your community was bleeding.

The rest of the broadcast sounded like static, but you got the gist.  Whoever was shot was in critical condition.  There was “no threat to the public.”  Police had already apprehended a suspect.

Before you could fully process what had happened, you were scrolling through the contacts on your phone.

Your first call was to the community center.  For once, it went straight to voicemail.  

Your second call went to Sheryl- the receptionist who shared a shift with you.  She was shaken, but alright, and she confirmed that all of the community center staff were in the same condition.  Scared, but okay.  Shocked, but alright.  They were going to be fine.  You thanked her, comforted her, and let her hang up first.

Your next call went to Missy.  She didn’t pick up.  You moved on, making a few other calls to a few other community center students, checking in on everyone you could.  

Frank did not pick up.  

Adam did not pick up.

Most of the others did.  Most of your students were freaked out, but fine.  Everyone seemed to be okay and alive, but you couldn’t get a hold of Missy, Frank, or Adam.  

You couldn’t fucking breathe.  You didn’t know if your friends were alive, or dead, or hurt, or arrested, or fine, and you were terrified.  The universe seemed to hold its breath as you gasped for air, spiralling as your horrible little brain dragged you through the worst possible scenarios.  

Funerals.  Hospitals.  Dead friends whose potential had been stolen from them far too fucking soon.  Courtrooms.  Cops.  Tunnel vision fallacies that got innocent people arrested.  Fuck.

Tears streamed down your cheeks.  You needed to call someone- not even for the wellbeing of your friends, but for the wellbeing of you.  You couldn’t tell if you were already having a panic attack, or if you were on the edge of one, and either way, you were not having a good time.  You needed help.  You needed someone to calm you down and get you to breathe like a functioning human person.

You thought about calling Reid.

Before you could scroll down to his contact, your screen lit up.  Missy was calling you.  You picked up.  Things only got worse from there.

Frank had been shot.  He’d been walking by the community center and someone had shot him.  A man in a dark jacket and a motorcycle helmet had shot him.  Missy didn’t see his face.

Frank was in the hospital.  In critical condition.  Maybe dying.

You got up and got ready to head to the hospital, floating through the motions as more information came to light.  You couldn’t feel your fingertips.

It wasn’t a random attack.  The assault was carried out with the precision of a hit.  

You didn’t know who would order a hit on Frank.  Neither did Missy.  True, he was a former inmate, true, he had once violated the law, but he hadn’t done anything that would make someone take a hit out on him.

The police thought Adam had done it.  Adam was near the community center.  He was in custody now.  He needed a lawyer.

“Do you think you can represent him, Doc?” you could hear the desperation in Missy’s voice.  You could feel it in your chest.  

“I uh-” you tried to clear your tear-filled voice.  You failed, “It’s a conflict of interest.  I was his teacher, recently, the prosecutor can use that against him if I try.  I can get help, though.  I have connections.”

“You’re gonna wanna hurry and send them out.  The cops were real rough with him, it’s not looking good.”

You cursed under your breath, shoving your shoes on and grabbing your keys, “I can sort it out from the hospital… I can- I can do that, right?” “If anyone can, it’s you.  Just get here soon.  Please,”  Missy’s voice got smaller and smaller as she spoke.

You broke traffic laws getting to the hospital.

-

Hospitals still fucking sucked.  They were often crowded, decently noisy, and overwhelmingly white.  You still hated hospitals, and if you could, you wouldn’t enter another one for the rest of your life.  

But that wasn’t an option.  Not for you.

You and Missy didn’t leave each other’s sides.  You couldn’t.  In the sterile environment of the hospital, you were each the other’s lifeline.  You both needed it.  You looked like the human embodiment of anxiety, and Missy the embodiment of grief.  Tears spilled down her cheeks, dragging tracks of mascara with them.  She curled into herself, into you, appearing small and fragile.  In the pull of a trigger, the strongest woman you knew became a precious breakable thing.  

She didn’t deserve this.  She didn’t deserve any of it.  And even though you also looked and felt like shit, you were glad you were there.  

The cops wouldn’t stop looking at the poor woman like she was another fucking suspect instead of a witness.  They looked away from her when she was with you.  She could focus on her grief when she was with you.  You were just happy to be there for her.

Over the phone, you arranged a legal defence for Adam.  You didn’t pull away from Missy to do it.  The two of you just sat in a blindingly white hallway, clinging to each other in a sea of sterility as you called in a couple of favours. 

Once situated, your lawyer friend called you to report that 1) the local police were really pissing them off, and 2) the case against Adam was weak, but not a guaranteed failure.  His history of incarceration and intrusive thoughts could be used against him- however, the nature of his past crimes, his friendship with Frank, and his work to improve his life could be used in his defence.

Overall, the case wouldn’t be too difficult to win.  Adam just needed character witnesses- ones that a jury would like and trust.  

You, a reputable university professor, could be one of them.  

You very quickly realized that Spencer, a notable FBI agent, could be another.

Missy urged you to call him.  She even gave you the decency of space.  She didn’t need to do either.  You were always going to call Spencer.

Of course, Spencer didn’t pick up the phone.  Pushing down the urge to just hurl your phone into the wall, you took a deep breath and left a message.  You hoped your voice wouldn’t betray how absolutely fucking shaken you were by the situation.  

It did.

“Hey, Reid.  I’m sorry, it’s been a while, I just… look, it doesn’t matter right now.  Something happened.  Things are bad, right now, and I uh.  I’m gonna need your help, if you can- if you want to help me,” you let out a shaky breath that sounded a little too much like a sob, “You know where I am.  I’ll see you.”

After you left your message, Missy looked at you with a shaky, watery smile.  You raised an eyebrow in question, and her smile just grew.

“You didn’t tell him what happened.”

“I know.  It’s uh, it’s a lot to tell someone over the phone.”

She let out a little laugh, “He’s gonna think you’re hurt or something.”

“Oh, shit-” you murmured, pulling out your phone to make another call.  

Missy put a hand on your arm, stopping you, “Don’t change it.  He might get here faster if he thinks that.”  

“You think so?”

“Oh, you are down bad.”

The two of you stood there in the hallway, and as you stared at each other’s tear-stained faces, you both started to laugh.  The sound morphed back and forward between pained sobs and wheezing laughter until the two of you were too tired to make another sound.

You stayed with Missy for another few hours.  Nobody would tell either of you a damn thing about Frank’s condition.  The two of you remained in place until a well-meaning nurse practically forced you to leave.  

You drove Missy home.  The car ride was silent.  You were both out of things to say.  For once, you were all cried out.  Missy was in a similar condition, dark mascara tracks still painted her cheeks.  She didn’t make a move to wipe them away.

It was in that silence that you pulled into a parking spot outside of Missy’s apartment- the one she shared with Frank.  

“Are you gonna be okay?”

“I’m… I’m gonna be something.”

“You can stay with me, if you want.  Just so you won’t be alone.”

She stared out at the building, at its golden lights glaring out into the velvety dark of the night, “I… I think I need to try being on my own.  Just for me.”

You tightened your grip on the steering wheel, “Okay.  But please, call if you need anything.” She smiled over at you, “I just need you to get Adam out of this mess.  The sooner they stop looking at him, the better.”

“I know.  I’ll do everything I can, I promise.”

“I know you will.  Adam will be out in no time, eh?”

You offered her a little grin, “Do you want me to walk you in?”

“I’ll be alright-” she popped open her door, “But do you think you could give me a ride to the hospital tomorrow?  I just-”

“Of course.  Anything.” She gave your arm a pat and hopped out of the car, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Doc.”

You just waved goodbye.  The last time you promised to see someone later, he disappeared from your life.  Now, he wouldn’t even pick up his phone.

You had to try really hard to avoid crashing on the drive home.  Tears blurred your vision.  Your breath came in sparse gasps.  You really should’ve pulled over, but you just wanted to be home.

You got there safely and spent the night alone.

-

The next day, you woke up early, took Missy to the hospital, and made your way to the university.  And then you had to spend the rest of the day acting like everything was normal and nothing was wrong.

It was a weird sort of hell- an inferno of your own creation.  You had spent the past few months pretending that everything was okay, acting like everything was fine.  Now you found yourself lost in the performance, drowning on the stage beneath the bright lights.

You had to give your lectures as if one of your students wasn’t rotting in a police department- like another one wasn’t in the hospital, suffering from a gunshot wound after being attacked by a mysterious assailant.  You had to act like you were a-okay with the knowledge that there was nothing you could do.

In other words, you had a terrible fucking day, and at the end of it, standing alone in your office, you had one thought.

There was wine in the trunk of your car.

-

The moment Spencer got your call, he ran back to that university town faster than he’d ever run in his life.  He could hear the fear in your voice over the phone.  He could hear a hospital monitor beeping over the phone.  

So he ran.  He ran as fast as he could trying to get back to you.  The closer he got the more dread he felt.  The closer he got, the more news stations reported on a shooting near your community center. 

It was only after he got back to that town that Spencer realized that he did not know where you lived.  

He tried the hospital, but you weren’t there.  Spencer wasn’t sure if that was reassuring or not.  The community center was closed, so you weren’t there either.  There was only one place left for you to go- and it didn’t make much sense after the message he’d gotten, but it was all he had left.

Your office was empty.  The lights were off and the door was locked.  Even the ghost wasn’t there.  Feeling dejected, Spencer wandered over to his office.  He was expecting to find it in the same condition as your office.  Abandoned.  Empty.  Untouched.

It was not that.  Someone had clearly been there recently.  The lights were on.  Someone was logged into the computer.  Even more damning, the bookshelves no longer contained the vast collection of books that he’d left behind.

They were full of smut.

Softcore smut.  Hardcore smut.  Monsterfucking smut.  Enemies to lovers smut.  That Fifty Shades parody that’s canon in the universe of Criminal Minds was notably absent, but that was about it exceptions wise.  

Spencer hadn’t done this.  He hadn’t filled the bookshelves with horny literature.  There was only one person who would.

“Spencer?”

Speak of the devil.  Reid turned, and there you were.  The world caught its breath, and the two of you suddenly felt less incomplete.  The black holes stopped eating your guts.  Spencer was right where he needed to be.

You were there, together, where you needed to be.

“Where the fuck did you come from?”

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