#they've journeyed far and long

[cloud-somersault]

i was working on chapter 5 and almost started crying????

[d1stalker]

This is Ours [Logan Howlett]

Summary: It's your first time back at your grandparents' farm in years, and while many things are the same, one thing is not: they've hired a new farmhand.

Warnings: fem!reader, SMUT, sexual tension, angst, fluff, lots of feelings WC: 18.8k - MASTERLIST

A/N: apologies for dropping another long fic but i literally could not stop writing the juices were flowing. i really hope you enjoy this! i think its my fave so far :)

----

For as long as you can remember, summers were synonymous with your grandparents' farm. It was a tradition, one you held close to your heart. To you, your time there embodied your entire childhood—days spent under the sun, where the air was thick with the scent of wildflowers and the soothing chorus of cicadas filling the long, golden afternoons.

Mornings began early, with you bounding downstairs to join your grandparents for breakfast. The kitchen was always filled with the comforting aroma of fresh coffee and pancakes. Your grandfather would be at the table, engrossed in his newspaper, while your grandmother hummed softly as she cooked, the sound of the morning radio playing faintly in the background. Your days were spent exploring the fields, helping with the chores and horses, or sitting on the porch with your grandmother, listening to stories from her youth.

It couldn’t get any more perfect than that. 

But as the years passed, things changed. After you graduated high school, the summer visits became less frequent. University took up more of your time, and you were always busy—first with classes, then with internships, and finally with starting your career. The farm, once the centre of your world, became a place you could only visit if you were lucky, and even then, it was never for long. 

You miss it.

This year, however, things were different. You found yourself in between jobs, with the first real break you’d had in what felt like forever. And when the moment the opportunity arose, you knew exactly where you wanted to go. 

—

The drive to your grandparents' farm is a journey into the past. The country road, lined with trees that stretched out like old friends, brings back a flood of memories from your childhood: where you’re sitting in the back of your parent’s car vibrating with excitement. You pass the same fields, still as vast and green as you remember, dotted with flowers swaying gently in the breeze, and the old oak tree where you used to swing as a child stands tall, its branches reaching up to the sky as if welcoming you back.

When you finally pull up to the farmhouse, the sight of it fills you with a deep sense of nostalgia. The white paint is more chipped than you remember, the porch sags a little more in the middle, and you can tell that it’s been a while since the grass was last trimmed. 

Stepping out of the car, the screen door squeaks open, and there’s your grandmother, standing on the porch, wiping her hands on her apron. She’s smaller than you remember, more fragile, but the smile on her face is the same—warm, welcoming, and full of love. “There’s my girl,” she calls out, rushing down the steps and into the driveway as fast as she can. 

“Grandma!” you exclaim, hurrying toward her to wrap her in a hug.

She pulls back to look at you, her eyes twinkling despite the lines of age etched on her face. “You’ve grown even more beautiful, but you look tired. We’ll fix that with some good meals, won’t we?”

You laugh, nodding. “I missed your cooking.”

“And I missed having someone to cook for,” she replies with a chuckle, patting your cheek. “Come inside. Your grandpa’s been counting down the days until you got here.”

You grab your suitcase from your car and follow her into the house, the familiar scents of fresh bread and old wood enveloping you the minute you step inside. It’s just as you remember—cozy, lived-in, filled with the glow of years worth of love and memories. Your grandfather sits at the kitchen table, a pair of reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he reads a book. He looks up as you enter, and the moment he sees you, his face breaks into a wide grin.

“There’s my favourite farmhand,” he jokes, letting out a grunt as he places one hand on the table, slowly pushes out of his chair. 

“Grandpa,” you say, meeting him halfway for a hug. 

“Got here just in time,” he says with a wink. “Plenty of work to do, you know.”

“I figured,” you reply, playfully nudging him. “I’m ready to get my hands dirty.”

“Good to hear,” he says, leaning back against the table for support. “This old back of mine isn’t what it used to be.”

Your grandmother sets a glass of lemonade in front of you and sits down, her eyes flicking toward the window. “We’ve had to make some changes around here, sweetheart,” she begins gently. “Your grandpa and I… well, we can’t do as much as we used to.”

You hum, listening carefully. Seeing your grandparents grow older is difficult—it's a constant reminder that time is slipping away, and the moments you have together are becoming more precious with each passing day.

“We’ve hired some help,” she continues. “A man named Logan. He’s been a blessing, really, taking care of the heavier work. But he’s… well, he’s not much of a talker.”

“Logan?” you ask, glancing out the window. 

That’s when you see him. Tall and broad-shouldered, he is out by the barn, carrying some hay. He’s wearing a worn-down flannel with jeans, and his dark hair is slightly tousled. Even from a distance, you can tell he’s strong—he looks like he knows what he’s doing. 

“Yeah, Logan,” your grandfather confirms. “Keeps to himself mostly, but he’s get’s the job done. Don’t mind his gruffness; he’s just not used to people fussing over him.”

“He’s been here since last spring,” your grandmother adds. “We needed the help, and he needed the work. It’s been good for both sides. You should go and introduce yourself after you unpack, dear. Maybe get in some work before we sit for dinner later.”

Nodding, you walk up the stairs in the house and make your way to your room. It looks exactly the same as the last time you saw it. Your old stuffed animals are organized neatly on the shelf above the bed, and the quilt your grandmother made for you, with patches of faded fabric from old dresses and curtains, is spread across the bed the exact same way it’s always been. 

The posters on the walls, the little knickknacks on the dresser—everything is a snapshot of your younger self, preserved in this room like a time capsule. It’s comforting, but also a little bittersweet, a reminder of how much time has passed since you had last visited.

After a few moments of reminiscing, you stand up and begin unpacking, carefully placing your clothes in the old wooden dresser. Each drawer creaks as you open it, the sound a part of this room’s charm. You smile as you come across some of the little treasures you left behind—a pressed flower between the pages of an old book, a seashell from a family trip to the coast, and last, a picture of you and your grandparents taken one summer when you were about ten.

You’re standing between them, beaming with a toothy grin, their arms wrapped around you in a warm embrace. The three of you are standing in front of the barn, with the sun setting behind you. You can almost hear your grandmother’s laugh as the camera clicked, your grandfather’s playful grumbling about having to pose for ‘just one more picture.’ The photo captures a moment of pure happiness, a snapshot of a simpler time.

Setting the photo down, you quickly begin to change into your designated farm clothes, and head out to meet the new face around here. 

The trek to the barn isn’t very long, just a few minutes away from the main house, and from the outside, you can hear the familiar sounds of work—footsteps crunching on the hay-strewn floor, the creak of wood as something heavy is moved. You pause at the doorway, taking a moment to observe him before stepping inside. He’s focused, his movements efficient as he lifts another bale of hay and stacks it with the others. 

You take a deep breath, and step into the barn. “Logan?” you call out softly.

He doesn’t stop what he’s doing, but with a slight pause and glance over his shoulder, his eyes, sharp and intense, meet yours, and there’s a moment where you’re not sure what to say. “I’m—”

“I already know who you are,” he grunts, cutting you off. 

His abruptness catches you off guard, but you quickly recover, nodding. “Right. I guess that makes sense.”

“If you wanna help, there’s a broom in the back shed,” he continues, going back to his work as if the conversation is already over. “You could sweep up the hay.”

You bristle, a little surprised at how quickly he dismissed you, but you’re determined not to let it rattle you. After all, your grandparents did warn you that he wasn’t much of a talker.  “Sure,” you say. “I can do that.”

As you turn to head toward the back shed, you find yourself lightly imitating his gruff tone under your breath, a flicker of irritation running through you. “There’s a broom in the back shed. Yeah, obviously, I know where the broom would be,” you mutter.

In the shed, the broom is in fact, exactly where you expected it to be, and you huff, grabbing it and walking back to the barn. When you return, Logan is still hard at work, stacking the hay, and doesn’t bother to acknowledge you yet again. You set to work sweeping, the rhythmic motion of the broom soon lulling you into a steady state. The barn is quiet, save for the soft shuffling of hay under your broom and the occasional grunt from Logan as he moves the heavy bales.

Time seems to pass slowly, the light outside growing softer as the sun dips lower in the sky. You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you barely notice when Logan’s footsteps stop. It’s only when his voice breaks the silence that you’re pulled back to the present.

“Your grandma called for dinner,” he says, causing you to jump a bit at the unexpectedness of his voice in the silence. Before you can respond, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there with the broom still in hand. You let out a small sigh, feeling the tension in your shoulders. This is going to be a long few months, you think to yourself as you return the broom to its usual place and jog back to the farmhouse.

Inside, the kitchen smells like a warm hearty stew. The table is already set, the familiar blue-and-white checkered tablecloth in place, and your grandparents are seated, chatting quietly as they wait for you and Logan to join them.

You slide into the seat across from your grandmother just as Logan walks over from the sink, two glasses of water in his hands. He places one in front of you with a quick nod, and the other at his own seat, beside yours.

“So,” your grandmother says, her eyes shining with curiosity as she looks between the both of you. “I take it you’ve introduced yourselves to each other?”

You hesitate momentarily, your mind flashing back to your brief encounter in the barn. “Yeah, we have,” you reply, managing a smile, if you can call it that. 

Logan doesn’t say anything, his focus on the bowl of stew in front of him. He doesn’t seem interested in joining the conversation, which only adds to the growing sense of awkwardness you feel. You glance at him briefly, wondering if he’s always this closed off or if it’s just his way of dealing with new people.

“Well, that’s good,” your grandmother says, either oblivious to the tension or choosing to ignore it. “Logan’s been a big help around here. We’re so grateful to have him.”

Your grandfather hums in agreement, scooping a spoonful of stew into his mouth before adding, “He’s got a strong work ethic. Doesn’t shy away from the tough jobs, that’s for sure.”

Nodding along, you feel the pressure to say something positive. “That’s great. It’s good to know the farm’s in good hands.” Even thought the words are definitely a bit forced, you mean it. 

As the conversation continues, your grandparents shift the focus to you, asking about your job search and what you’ve been up to since you last visited. You give them a brief rundown of the interviews you’ve had, the options you’re considering, and the challenges you’ve faced. You try to keep it light, not wanting to worry them with your uncertainty, but you can’t help but notice the man’s presence beside you, still silent. 

At one point, when you’re talking about finding a new apartment, you hear him let out a quiet scoff, and you cast a look over, catching the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. It’s gone almost as quickly as it appears, but it’s enough to make you pause. You want to ask him what that was about, to challenge him on whatever it is he’s thinking, but you bite your tongue. This isn’t the time or place, not in front of your grandparents who are just happy to have everyone around the table.

They continue to chat with you, asking more about your plans and offering their usual words of encouragement. When dinner finally wraps up, your grandmother insists on cleaning up, waving you off when you offer to help. “You’ve had a long day, dear. Why don’t you go relax? Logan can help me with the dishes.”

You smile. “Thanks, Grandma.”

He’s already started collecting the dishes by the time you stand up, but it’s like he refuses to recognize your existence, and that pisses you off. 

—

The next morning, you wake before dawn, the world still wrapped in the gentle embrace of night, and for a moment, you lie still, listening to the deep, pulsing of the house—the way the wooden floors creak slightly as they settle, the distant sound of the wind rustling through the trees outside. The comfort of knowing your grandparents are asleep down the hall brings a sense of calm that you haven’t felt in a long time.

Deciding to take advantage of the early hour, you slip out of bed, your feet brushing against the cool floor as you stretch, feeling the muscles in your body slowly wake. You dress quietly, pulling on a soft, worn sweater, and pad downstairs, careful to avoid the spots on the stairs that you know will creak.

You move through the kitchen as if on autopilot, your hands knowing exactly where everything is. You set the coffee to brew, and the rich aroma sills the room.

Reaching for the eggs, you crack a few of them into a bowl, and as you’re whisking, you let your mind wander, thinking about how to spend the day. The soft sizzle of butter in the pan gets your attention and you pour the eggs in, watching as they begin to set around the edges. 

You pour yourself a cup of coffee, the steam rising from the mug in delicate spirals, and you take a sip, savouring the warmth and flavour hitting your tongue, while your gaze drifts over to the window that faces the back of the farmhouse. 

Your grandparents’ own horses, and you recognize some of them from when you were younger. It makes you happy knowing that they’re still being well taken care of. The way the early light touches the land, and the morning dew covers the grass, you can’t help but smile into your mug. 

Slowly, you walk a bit closer to the window, eager to take in the view you had been missing all these years, when a figure standing over by the horses catches your eye. It’s Logan, a small surprise given the early hour—you didn’t hear him wake up—but he stands there, leaning casually against the fence, an apple in his hand. 

You watch as he holds out the apple to one of the horses, his rough hand moving gently over its neck as it eats. There’s something unexpectedly tender in the way he interacts with the animal, a patience and care that you didn’t expect to see from him, given how he acted yesterday. 

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out another apple, offering it to the second horse, who hungrily accepts it. You continue to stare at the sight outside. This side of him—so different from the unapproachable exterior he’s shown so far—stirs something inside you, a desire to connect with him, to see if there’s more to him than meets the eye.

On impulse, you quickly turn off the stove, grab a second cup of coffee and some toast you’ve just buttered, and without overthinking it, you head outside. The morning air is cool against your skin as you make your way over to Logan. 

As you approach, he keeps his attention focused on the horses. You take a moment, then clear your throat lightly, holding out the coffee with a tentative smile. “Thought you might want some breakfast,” you offer, trying to keep your tone light and friendly.

He finally glances at you, his eyes briefly meeting yours. His expression is just as unreadable his had been in the last sixteen hours you’ve known him, and then he grunts, “Already ate,” and turns his attention back to the animals in front of him.

His curt, and honestly rude rebuffals really frustrate you. It’s not like you’re asking him to wipe your ass after you go to the washroom, so you have absolutely no idea why he’s like this. 

“Alright,” you mutter, lips pressed together in a thin line, and turn to head back into the kitchen. 

Once inside, you set the untouched coffee and toast back on the counter with a sigh. You feel a tad bit awkward. You’re going to be spending the next however-many-months with him, and you would love it if you could at the very least, get along. His rough-around-the-edges personality is not making this enjoyable for you, and you’re sure that he probably just see’s you as an annoying nuisance. 

And it’s not like you’re ever going to pull this card on him or anything, but you have been here longer than him, despite the fact that he’s acting like he owns the place. You get it, he’s been here for a for a while, and it’s only been him doing the work, blah blah. But you’ve been helping and doing the work your entire childhood—missing a few years doesn’t take away that fact. 

With a heavy sigh, you open a cupboard and pull out a plate, scraping the eggs off the pan and setting them on it. Because your grandparents’ are still asleep, all you can do is eat in silence.

—

You’ve decided that today you are going to trim the grass. There’s always something to do around here, and since the long grass was one of the first things you noticed upon arrival, you think it’s best to just get that chore over with, considering how long you know it will take. 

Once you’ve finished cleaning the dishes and pan, you go back upstairs into your room and get changed. Today, you put on a long sleeve, and a small vest over top. Your pants are some hand-me-down working pants from one of your older cousins, and you snatch a baseball cap from your closet for when it begins to get hotter out. 

Walking to the back shed, you grab some tools for trimming the lawn. A lawn mower, a string trimmer, and a rake for after everything’s been cut. Moving over to the back section of the lawn, you set the trimmer and rake against the barn and start using the mower. It’s the same one your grandparents have used since you were a child, so it’s a reel lawn mower instead of those newer, more electrical ones you’ve seen around the city. 

You can’t really complain about it, so you just begin, the steady repetitive action of moving the tool back and forth being somewhat therapeutic. The smell of freshly cut grass begins to hit your senses, and you truly feel at peace. 

As the minutes pass, the sun rises higher, its warmth spreading across the fields. You’re completely absorbed in your work, the rhythm of mowing and the occasional chirp of birds the only sounds around you. You’ve missed this. The sounds of cars honking and early morning city traffic has nothing on the serenity of country life. 

You’re just completing the first half when you sense movement nearby. Glancing up, you see Logan walking up to you, having grabbed the trimmer. He doesn’t say anything, just starts up the machine and heads over to the next patch of grass within the area.

There’s a brief moment of eye-contact, like a subtle unspoken recognition to the effort you seem to be putting in. He gives you a small nod, and turns to focus on his task. The two of you work side by side, the hum of the machines, the scent of fresh-cut grass, and the warm sun overhead creating a strangely comforting atmosphere. 

When you finally finish, few hours have passed, and you walk back over to the barn and grab a lawn bag and the rake. And because Logan’s machine was electric, he seems to have finished his section as well, so you begin raking up all the stray pieces of grass. 

You quick to find out how awkward it is to hold the lawn bag open with one hand while trying to rake with the other—the grass keeps slipping out of the bag, and you can’t help but feel a bit ridiculous as you fumble with the task. You scan around, hoping Logan won’t notice, but of course, he’s right there, watching as you flail around.

You feel a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck, but before you can say anything, he steps forward. Like usual it seems, he doesn’t say a word, just holds out his hand as if asking for the rake. You falter briefly, not wanting to seem like you need his help, but at the same time you understand how much more efficient it would be if he joined. 

Reluctantly, you hand it over, and he immediately starts working with the same steady efficiency he brought to trimming the grass. With both hands free, you manage the lawn bag more effectively, holding it open as Logan rakes the grass into neat piles.

The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable; instead, it feels like a natural extension of the morning’s work. The sound of the rake scraping against the ground, the rustle of grass being gathered, and the occasional whinny from a horse nearby. 

After the last of the grass is finally raked and bagged, you tie off the lawn bag and glance over at him. He leans the rake against the barn wall and meets your gaze. There’s something in the way he seems to stare at you head on this time, rather than just a quick look, that makes your chest fill with satisfaction. 

You nod. “Thanks.”

Logan dips his chin in return, then turns and heads back toward the barn. The heat of the sun really starts to hit you now, and you take a peak at your watch, noticing that it’s already lunch time. Knowing that even if you tried to invite him, he’s probably say no, you just walk back to the farmhouse alone. 

—

The next couple of weeks unfold in the same way, moving with an almost predictable rhythm. Each morning, you wake before the sun, quietly slipping out of bed while your grandparent’s are still asleep. As you prepare and eat breakfast, you take your usual place by the kitchen window, watching as Logan interacts with the horses. 

Then, as the sun rises higher, you head out to begin your chores around the farm. Sometimes, Logan joins you without a word—his presence now a familiar and abating part of your routine—or sometimes, you find yourself working alone, but even then, you know he’s never far away. 

You’ve learned to read his silences, to understand that his gruff demeanor isn’t necessarily unfriendliness, but rather his way of navigating the world. And though he doesn’t speak much, his actions have a way of communicating more than words ever could.

One morning, as you’re finishing up breakfast, your grandparents announce their plans to head into one of the nearby cities for the day. “We need to run some errands and pick up a few things,” your grandmother explains, her hands busy packing a small bag. “But we were thinking it might be nice for the horses to get out and see some different scenery too.”

“They haven’t been to the pond in a while. It’s good for them to stretch their legs and take in some new sights.” Your grandfather chimes in. 

You nod, smiling at the thought. The pond is a beautiful spot, a peaceful place where the water runs clear and cool, surrounded by tall trees and soft grass. It’s the perfect place to spend a day with the horses. “That sounds like a great idea. I’ll take them out there for the day.”

Your grandmother’s eyes light up as she hands you a basket. “I packed some food and a blanket for a picnic. There are also a couple of towels in case you want to swim. It’ll be a lovely day for it.”

“Thank you,” you say, appreciating the thoughtfulness behind the preparations. You take the basket and head upstairs to get ready, the idea of spending the day by the pond filling you with excitement. It’s been a long time since you’ve been there last. 

In your room, you change into your bathing suit, a simple bikini that you’ve always loved for its comfort and ease. You slip on a loose shirt and shorts over it, then grab a few essentials before heading back downstairs. Your grandparents have already left, so you make your way out to the barn to prepare the horses.

As you start saddling them up, you notice Logan nearby, focused on his usual tasks. His presence has become so customary to you that you hardly think twice before calling out to him. “Hey, Logan,” you say, catching his attention.

“I’m heading to the pond with the horses,” you tell him, nodding toward the saddled horses. “Grandma’s packed some food and a blanket for a picnic. There are even towels if you want to swim. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”

He hesitates, his gaze shifting to the horses, then back to you. After a moment, he mutters, “I’ve never ridden a horse before.”

The admission takes you by surprise, and you raise an eyebrow. “Really? But you’ve been here for over a year. I just assumed—”

He shakes his head slightly, cutting you off. “I’ve always just walked alongside them. Holdin’ onto the reins is one thing, but I’ve never actually been on top of one.”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “That’s okay,” you say gently. “You can still join us. You can walk alongside like you usually do, and tomorrow, if you’re up for it, I’ll teach you how to ride.”

Logan peers at you for a long moment, considering your words. Finally, he nods. “Alright. I’ll come with you.”

“Great,” you reply, your smile widening. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

With that settled, you both finish preparing for the trip. Logan helps you load the picnic basket, blanket, and towels onto one of the horses. You mount your favourite horse, and gently click your heels into its side, starting the trip as he begins walking, horses in tow, beside you. 

The journey to the pond is beautiful. The green trees that frame the pathway, the soft buzzing of nature, the sound of the horses’ hooves. You and Logan exchange a few words, but for the most part, it’s silent. 

When you reach the pond, the sight is just as picturesque as you remembered. The water sparkles under the sunlight, the tall trees casting dappled shadows across the grassy bank. You untie the horses, giving them plenty of room to graze and explore, before you grab the picnic basket, while he grabs the towels and blankets. Making your way over to the other side of the creek, you find a nice open patch of grass to set up on.

“I’m going for a quick dip,” you say as you go about stepping out of your shorts. Logan, who is sitting down, looks up, but his eyes seem to stop dead in their tracks when they settle on your body. You swear you can physically see his gaze darken as he takes in the sight of you stripping off your shirt. It’s subtle, but a small shiver runs down your spine at the attention nonetheless.

Without waiting for a response, you turn and and head toward the pond. The temperature is perfect: just cool enough to be refreshing without being cold.

You dive in, the reservoir embracing you as a much-needed relief from the heat. Everything feels perfect—the gentle current against your skin, the refreshing sensation of being submerged, and the weightlessness of floating just beneath the surface. 

But when you lift your head out of the water, you and Logan immediately lock eyes.

He’s lying back on the blanket, propped up on one elbow, and his focus is squarely on you. The intensity of his stare is like a physical force, pinning you in place. The world around you seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you suspended in time. Your breath catches in your throat, and you can feel a heat build within you, starting in your chest and traveling down, deeper, and deeper…But then, just as suddenly as it began, he looks away, and if you were any closer, you may have been able to spot the red flush creeping up the back of his neck and to the tip of his ears.

The moment is over, but the enduring feeling of it stays with you as you swim back to the shore. Water drips from your body as you step out, and you reach for one of the towels your grandmother packed. Once you’ve dried off, you walk over to where Logan is sitting and drop down beside him on the blanket. 

You are aware of eyes on you again, though this time there’s a hesitation in the way they travel over your form, as if he’s trying to be discreet but can’t quite help himself. You pretend not to notice as you reach for the picnic basket.

“I’m starving,” you say, pulling out the sandwiches your grandmother packed. “Want one?”

He nods, sitting up a little straighter as you hand him a sandwich. After a few bites, curiosity gets the better of you, and you decide to break the ice. “So,” you start, glancing over at him, “how did you end up here, working on my grandparents’ farm?”

He takes his time chewing and swallowing before he answers, his eyes focused on the food in his hands. “I was passing through,” he says finally. “Didn’t plan on stayin’. But your grandparents… they’re good people. Needed help, so I stuck around.”

You nod, taking another bite. “They are good people,” you agree, thinking of how much they’ve done for you over the years. “But where were you headed before that? Where are you from?”

Logan pauses for a moment, then looks over at you. “Alberta,” he says. “Grew up there, mostly. Been a lot of places since, but Alberta’s home—or was.”

You smile, finding comfort in the fact that he’s sharing a bit more. “Alberta’s beautiful,” you say, remembering the few times you’d traveled through the province. “Why’d you leave?”

He shrugs, glancing out toward the creek. “Needed a change. Wanted to see what else was out there. Guess I got used to movin’ around, never really settlin’ anywhere.”

You nod thoughtfully, taking in his words. “Must have been hard, never really having a place to call home.”

His gaze meets yours, and there’s a hint of something softer in his eyes. “Yeah,” he admits, his voice quieter. “But your grandparents… they’ve made it easier. This farm… it’s good.”

You smile warmly at him. “I’m glad you’re here. You’ve been a huge help to them. And… well, I’ve liked having you around.”

He glances at you, his expression softening just a fraction. “Yeah, it’s been alright,” he mutters, a small, imperceptible smirk on his lips. You smile bashfully.

The next couple of hours pass by in a blur. Not much conversation happens, but rather, these weird periods of time where you feel as though your eyes are glued to him, and he you. It’s different—unexpected—and to put it frankly, you feel a bit shy underneath his gaze. 

Logan is attractive, anyone with eyes could see that, but it really wasn’t just his face that pulled you in, it was him. The way he would silently help you with chores, his soft moments every morning with the horses, the way he subtly looks over your grandparents’ when he thinks they arent watching. All of it. You want to spend more time with him, learn more about who he is, what he likes… all of it.

Soon enough, you both begin to pack up the picnic supplies, load up the horses, and head back to the farm. The horses seem content, having had a fun day grazing and napping by the pond, and you ride beside him as he walks. Every now and then, you catch him peeking up at you from under his eyelashes, his eyes lingering just a bit longer each time. 

You can see your grandparent’s car in the driveway as you near the farm, meaning they’ve also returned from their day in the city. Leading the horses back into the barn, the two of you go through the motions of the familiar routine of unsaddling them, brushing them down, and making sure they’re comfortable for the night. 

Once they’re all settled for the night, Logan steps back, wiping his hands on his jeans as he looks at you. 

“So ‘bout tomorrow…” He begins, shifting slightly, as if unsure how to phrase what he wants to say. “You really think you can teach me to ride?”

You grin excitedly. “Of course. I’ll come out after I’ve eaten breakfast.”

“Alright then,” he says, pivoting toward the doors, his lips twitching just barely, but enough. “Lookin’ forward to it.”

Your fingers are twitching at your sides as you watch him leave. You wait a few moments, then head out as well, closing and locking up the barn for the night. When you step into the house, you find your grandparents in the living room, their faces lit by the soft glow of a lamp as they relax on the chesterfield. 

“How was your day?” your grandmother asks, looking up from her knitting with a bright smile.

“It was nice,” you reply. “The horses loved it, and the pond was as beautiful as ever. We had a picnic, and it was really peaceful.”

Your grandfather, who’s been quietly sipping his tea, sets down his cup and regards you with a knowing look. “And Logan? Did he go with you?”

You nod, feeling a bit of warmth rise to your cheeks at the mention of their helper. “Yeah, he came along. He’s never ridden a horse before, so he just walked with us. But I’m going to teach him tomorrow.”

Your grandparents exchange a look, and your grandmother’s eyes sparkle with amusement and something more tender as she smiles at you. “That’s good, dear. He’s a bit of a mystery, that one, but I can tell he’s got a good heart. Sometimes people just need a little time to open up.”

Chatting with your grandparent’s a bit longer, you listen intently as they fill you in on their activities. You can faintly hear the sound of Logan’s footsteps upstairs as he gets ready for bed. The memory of his gaze on you makes your heart beat a smidge faster. 

—

Logan is unsurprisingly already at the barn when you arrive the next morning. He’s leaning against it, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Morning,” you greet. “You ready to get started?”

Logan glances at the horses, then back at you. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

You lead him over to the horses, choosing one of the gentler ones for him to work with, and begin by showing him how to properly saddle the horse, explaining each step as you go. Logan watches intently, though you can see the slight furrow in his brow as he takes in all the information.

As soon as the horse is all saddled up, you hand him the reins. “Okay, now it’s your turn. Go ahead and mount up.”

He wavers for just a moment, his eyes on the horse as if weighing his options. But then, with a deep breath, he grabs the saddle and swings himself up with ease. He sits stiffly at first, his hands gripping the reins a bit too tightly, but he doesn’t look as uncomfortable as you would have expected. Definitely better than your first attempt.

“You’re doing great,” you reassure him, moving to stand beside the horse. “Just relax. The horse can sense if you’re tense, so try to loosen up a bit.”

He takes another breath, visibly trying to relax his posture. It’s clear that he’s out of his comfort zone, but he’s determined to push through. You walk him through the basics of steering and controlling the horse, keeping your tone calm and encouraging.

After a few minutes, you guide him around the paddock, walking alongside the horse to make sure he feels secure. Logan follows your instructions with serious concentration, his movements becoming more and more natural as he gets used to the rhythm of the horse’s steps.

“You’re doing really well,” you tell him, smiling up at him. “Want to try picking up the pace a little?”

He glances down at you warily at first, but then he nods. “Yeah. Let’s give it a shot.”

You guide him through a gentle trot, staying close enough to offer guidance but giving him enough space to figure things out on his own. The horse picks up speed, and you watch as he adjusts, his body moving in sync with the animal’s movements. There’s a moment when he looks down at you, a spark of surprise in his eyes as he realizes he’s actually getting the hang of it.

As the morning progresses, Logan becomes more comfortable in the saddle, his confidence growing with each passing minute. You spend the next hour practicing different techniques, guiding him through turns, stops, and even a slow canter. He’s a quick learner, and despite the initial awkwardness, you can tell he’s starting to enjoy himself.

Eventually, you lead him back to the paddock, bringing the horse to a stop. He dismounts, still a bit tense but clearly pleased with himself. He hands you the reins, his eyes meeting yours with a look that’s both grateful and slightly sheepish.

“Not bad for a first-timer,” you say with a grin, patting the horse’s neck.

He huffs a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… you’re a good teacher.”

The compliment, simple as it is, makes your heart skip a beat. There’s something about the way he says it, the sincerity in his tone, that makes you feel a warm glow inside. He begins to walk toward the back shed, undoubtedly going to start on his morning chores, but you find yourself wanting to hold onto this moment just a bit longer. 

“Logan,” you call out, stopping him in his tracks.

He turns back, his eyes questioning.

“Thanks for this morning. I really enjoyed it.”

Logan studies you for a second, then he gives you a small smile. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Me too.”

—

The days come and go, blending into one another as your first month at the farm passes by in what feels like the blink of an eye. The sun seems to rise earlier and set later with each passing day, stretching the hours out in a way that makes everything feel both languid and endless, and the heat only intensifies, something you didn’t think was possible. 

Despite the longer days and rising temperatures, you and Logan’s daily routines have now intertwined in a way that feels as natural as breathing. The once solitary moments you spent watching him out with the horses have now become something shared. Every morning, without fail, the two of you meet by the barn, where the horses greet you with soft nickers and eager eyes, ready for their daily ride.

He’s improved a lot. He no longer looks uncomfortable or stiff, and he’s able to guide his horse with an ease that surprises even him. You can see the subtle shift in his posture, the way he holds the reins with a sureness that wasn’t there before. 

And just like when you work on the farm together, sometimes, the two of you ride in a comfortable silence—the only sounds being the soft snorts of the horses and the creak of leather saddles. But more often than not, you chat about everything and nothing, your conversations easy and unforced. 

Logan, who once spoke only in short, clipped sentences, has begun to open up more, sharing bits and pieces of his past, his thoughts, and his observations about life on the farm. You learn that he has a sarcastic, dry sense of humor, one that often catches you off guard and leaves you laughing in spite of yourself. He even joins you for your usual morning breakfast of eggs and toast, something that started only a few days into your new morning ritual. 

Yet throughout all of this, there’s a something growing between you and Logan, simmering just beneath the surface. 

It manifests in the little moments, the stolen glances, and the accidental touches that don’t really seem to be as accidental as you may think. It’s in the way his eyes follow you when he thinks you’re not looking, how they intensify when you laugh, or how he seems to fixate on your hands as you work, as if he’s memorizing every movement. 

You’re not immune to it either. You find yourself hyper-aware of his presence, the way his proximity seems to alter the air around you. In one afternoon, you’re in the barn, and sorting through a pile of hay bales. It’s hard, sweaty work, but the it’s kind that leaves you with a satisfying ache in your muscles by the end of the day. Logan is beside you, lifting the heavy bales with ease, his shirt sticking to his back, outlining the broad expanse of his shoulders. You catch yourself staring, and quickly look away, but not before he flicks his eyes over to yours.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can see it in his eyes. It’s like they’re telling you that he knows exactly what you were thinking, where you were staring. 

And when you’re both tending to the horses, something happens again. You’re brushing one down, your fingers working through its mane, when Logan comes to stand beside you, so close that you can smell his natural musk. 

“Here, let me help,” he says lowly, not waiting for a response as he reaches out, his hand covering yours. You glance up at him, and he’s already looking down at you. You’re acutely aware of the feel of his hand over yours, the callousness of his skin against your own, and the way his thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles as if testing the waters.

Another time, while fixing the fence out in the field, you’re both working in tandem, passing tools back and forth. At one point, you reach for a hammer at the same time Logan does, and your fingers brush against his. It’s a fleeting touch, but it feels like a spark in the summer heat, and for a heartbeat, you both freeze, caught in that split second of contact.

“Sorry,” you mumble, pulling your hand back, but the apology feels hollow in the face of what you’re actually feeling.

“No problem,” Logan replies, his voice gruffer than usual, as he hands you the tool. 

You can feel it. You’re not stupid. You know something is there, and you wonder how much longer you can resist it—how much longer you can pretend that everything is fine. But Logan is a hard man to read, and you’re not sure if what you’re feeling is reciprocated, or if it’s just wishful thinking on your part. So you stay silent, letting the tension simmer, hoping that one day, one of you will have the courage to break it.

—

You’re not the only who see’s it. 

“You know,” your grandmother says one afternoon, as you’re helping them with a puzzle. “Logan has really come out of his shell since you’ve been here.”

You blink, and glance over at her. “What do you mean?”

She looks up from the table, her eyes twinkling with a mischievous light. “Oh, you know exactly what I mean,” she says with a knowing smile. “He’s been here for over a year, and in all that time, we’ve never seen him quite like this. He’s always been polite, of course, but distant. Reserved. But now… well, it’s clear he’s become quite comfortable around you.”

Your grandfather places a piece in the board and nods in agreement. “She’s right, you know. Logan’s always been a bit of a mystery, keeps to himself mostly. But ever since you arrived, he’s been different. More… engaged, I suppose you could say.”

You feel a flush of heat rising to your cheeks, your heart skipping a beat at their words. “I-I don’t know about that,” you stammer, trying to brush it off. “We just… work together a lot. That’s all.”

Chuckling, your grandmother leans forward slightly. “Darling, don’t be modest. It’d be obvious to anyone that there’s something going on between the two of you. He’s practically a different man when he’s around you. Why, just the other day, I caught him actually smiling while you two were out riding. I nearly fainted!”

“You’ve managed to do in weeks what we couldn’t do in a year. Whatever it is, it’s good for him. And for you, too, I’d wager,” your grandfather pipes in, sending you a wink. 

Fidgeting with your hands, you feel like a deer caught in headlights, and you’re honestly not sure how to respond. “We’re… friends,” you say, though the words feel inadequate even as you say them. 

The woman across from you raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Hmm? Well, maybe so. But it seems to me that there’s potential for something more there, if you’re both willing to see it.”

“I… I don’t know,” you mumble, feeling flustered under their scrutiny. “He’s just… he’s a complicated person.”

“Everyone’s complicated, dear,” your grandfather says gently. “But that doesn’t mean they’re not worth the effort. Oftentimes, the best things in life are the ones that take the most time to understand.”

There’s a moment of silence as their words sink in, the weight of their observations leaving you feeling exposed and uncertain. You hadn’t fully allowed yourself to consider what you felt, let alone what Logan felt. But now, with your grandparents’ teasing remarks, it’s impossible to ignore the possibility that there might be something more between you and Logan than just a budding friendship.

Your grandmother reaches over and gives your hand a comforting squeeze. “Just take it one day at a time, sweetheart. Whatever happens, we’re here for you.”

—

The following week, you find yourself itching for something new—a change in scenery. While the farm has been everything you’ve wanted and more, you think it’d be nice to go on a drive, explore a small laketown you used to go to when you were younger. So, one morning, as you and Logan are unsaddling the horses, you muster the courage to extend an invitation that’s been on your mind for days.

“So…,” you begin, trying to keep your tone casual. “I was thinking… maybe we could take a break from the farm this weekend and go into town. You know, just to get out for a bit, see something different.”

He pauses in his work, his hand stilling on the brush as he peers over at you with a raised eyebrow. “The town?” he repeats, as if the idea is foreign to him.

“Yeah,” you say, turning to face him fully. “I need to pick up a few things, and I thought it might be nice to have some company. We could grab lunch, maybe do some exploring… It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. Just a change of pace.”

There’s a beat of silence as he considers your offer. His expression is guarded, as always, but you can see the wheels turning in his mind. It’s clear that the idea of leaving the farm, even for a day, is something he hasn’t done in a long time—if ever.

“I don’t know,” he eventually gets out, his tone uncertain. “Busy places are not really my thing.”

You feel a pang of disappointment at his hesitation, but you’re not ready to give up just yet. “I get that,” you say. “But it’s not about how many people are there, really. It’s about taking a break. You’ve been working so hard, and I think you deserve a day to relax. Plus, I could use your help carrying a few things,” you tease, hoping to coax him into agreeing.

Logan’s lips twitch as if he’s suppressing a smile, and for a split second you think he’s going to turn you down. But then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Alright,” he says, the word coming out almost reluctantly. “I’ll go.”

You beam, unable to hide your enthusiasm. “We’ll leave early on Saturday, okay?”

“Saturday it is,” he confirms.

—

The rest of the week passes quickly, your anticipation for the trip into town growing with each passing day. You find yourself planning out the day in your head, imagining the places you might visit, the food you might try, and most of all, the chance to see Logan in a different environment—away from the farm and the routine that has defined your relationship so far.

So, when Saturday morning arrives, you’re up before the sun, too excited to sleep in. You dress in your favourite casual clothes—something comfortable but a bit more put-together than your usual farm attire—and head downstairs, where you find your grandparents surprisingly already up and about.

“Off to the city today, are you?” your grandmother asks with a smile as she hands you a thermos of coffee for the road.

“Yep,” you reply, unable to keep the grin off your face. “and I’m dragging Logan along with me.”

Your grandfather chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, that should be interesting. Don’t think he’s much of a city slicker.”

“Be patient with him, dear,” your grandmother adds, laughing. “He’s stepping out of his comfort zone for you.”

“I will,” you promise, taking the coffee and heading out the door.

Logan’s already waiting by the truck, and when you see him, you can’t help but falter in your steps. The shirt he’s wearing clings to his muscular frame in a way that draws your eyes, accentuating the strength that’s always been evident. His hair is slightly disheveled, and there’s an almost shy quality to the way he stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets as if he’s not quite sure what to do with them.

You try to hide the fact that you were just checking him out as you ask, “Ready?” 

“‘Course,” he replies, climbing into the passenger seat as you slide behind the wheel.

The highways are empty and the sky is clear. You chat easily about the things you need to pick up, the cute boutiques you want to visit, and even a few memories of the last time you visited the place. Logan listens more than he talks, but you can tell he’s starting to relax, the tightness in his shoulders easing as the distance passes by.

When you finally reach the town, the energy along the streets is a stark contrast to the quiet calm of the farm. The buildings tower above you, and the sidewalks are crowded with people going about their day. 

Stepping out of the truck, you glance over at Logan. It’s clear that he’s out of his element, but there’s something cute about the way he takes it all in. “Where to first?” He questions. 

“Well,” you say, smiling at him, “I was thinking we could grab some breakfast at this little café I know, then hit a few shops. There’s a bookstore I love that I think you’d like too.”

He nods, his expression softening slightly at the mention of a bookstore. “Lead the way.”

You spend the morning wandering around, exploring the shops, and enjoying a nice breakfast together. At the bookstore, you lose track of time, browsing through the shelves and picking out a few titles that catch your eye. Logan surprises you by finding a book on woodworking, something he’s always been interested in but never had much time for. You can see the way his eyes light up as he flips through the pages, and it makes you smile, happy to see him enjoying something for himself.

After spending a few more hours of exploring, you suggest one last stop before heading back—a lookout point that offers a stunning view of the lake and the surrounding landscape. Logan agrees, and you drive up to the spot, parking the truck and leading him to a bench that overlooks the water.

The view is breathtaking. You both sit in silence for a while, just taking in the scenery, allowing the peacefulness of the moment to wash over you. He is staring out into the water with a thoughtful expression when you decide to interrupt his stupor.

“Logan,” you begin, the gentle breeze from the lake rustling through the trees, “what did you think of me when we first met?”

He turns his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of surprise, as if he wasn’t expecting the question. Then he pauses for a moment, looking back out at the lake, as if gathering his thoughts.

“I thought you were different,” he says slowly, each word carefully chosen. “You didn’t act like you were above the work. You jumped right in, got your hands dirty. Most people wouldn’t do that.”

You smile at the memory, remembering how you started working together the moment you met. After all, you weren’t just a visitor—you were there to help, and you knew your way around the farm. “And now?” you ask, your heart beginning to beat just a little faster.

He remains quiet for a few moments, his focus still on the water. When he finally speaks, he’s timid, almost bashful, as if he’s revealing something he’s kept hidden for a long time. 

“I think you’re beautiful,” he admits, his eyes flickering back to yours. “I thought that the first time I saw you, too. It was one of the first things that hit me. But it’s more than that. Now… now I think you’re perfect.”

The sincerity in his words catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. Your mouth parts in surprise, and all you can do is gawk, trying to process the depth of what he’s just said.

Logan shifts slightly, his gaze dropping to his hands as he continues. “I was… cold at first,” he murmurs, “Didn’t know how else to act. You weren’t like anyone I’d ever met. I didn’t know how to handle it. But what really got to me was how you didn’t shy away from that—you didn’t let my attitude push you away. That changed somethin’ in me.”

You want to say something—you should say something—to acknowledge what he just said, bearing in mind that was probably the most amount of words to come out of his mouth in one go, but for some reason, you can’t. The only thought running through your head is that you want to reach out and touch him, to close the small distance between you.

“What about you?” His voice is slightly more tentative now, and he definitely just asked that to fill the silence that you were ungraciously leaving. “What was your first impression of me?”

His question snaps you out of your thoughts, and you gulp, now knowing that your first impression of him was very different to his of you. 

“Honestly? I thought you were rude as hell,” you say a bit nervously, watching as his eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. “You were so gruff, so serious… I didn’t know what to make of you at first. But then I saw the way you took care of the horses, the way you looked after the farm, and… it didn’t take long for my opinion to change.”

He shifts, clearly caught off guard. You can see the faintest hint of a blush creeping up his neck as he takes in what you said, and it makes your smile widen. 

“And…You’re kind,” you continue. “There’s this gentleness about you that I wasn’t expecting.” You suck in a shaky breath. “I think you’re pretty perfect now too, if I’m being honest.”

The tint on his cheeks only deepens, and he looks away, flustered. It’s a rare sight—seeing him like this—and it makes you swoon. 

“I don’t know about that…” He mutters, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“I do,” you reply firmly. “You’re more than you think you are, Logan.”

The genuineness in your words makes him look back at you, his eyes searching yours for something—reassurance, maybe, or confirmation that what you’re saying is real. Slowly, almost unconsciously, you both lean in closer, locked in a stare, your breaths mingling as the space between you shrinks. You can see the way his eyes flicker down to your lips, and you feel the same pull, the undeniable urge to close the distance and see what it would feel like to kiss him overriding all your senses.

Your chest pounds as you inch closer, until you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. But just as your lips are about to meet, a loud, piercing scream shatters the moment.

You both jerk back, startled, and whip your heads around to see a kid nearby, his face scrunched up in disgust as he frantically wipes at his shoulder. “Ew! A seagull just pooped on me!”

The kid’s parents rush over, trying to console him as they pull out napkins, and you can’t help but burst out laughing at the absurdity of the interruption. The sound of your laughter is contagious, and soon Logan is chuckling a bit too.

“Well, that’s one way to kill the mood,” he mumbles under is breath.

You’re still laughing, the remnants of your almost-kiss still in the back of your mind, but you know the moment has passed. “Yeah,” you agree, trying to catch your breath. “Guess we should be thankful it wasn’t us.”

Logan grins, warm and wide. “Yeah, maybe we should.”

—

Driving back to the farm, neither of you say a word about what almost transpired at the lookout point, and you’re fine with that. There’s no need to fill the silence with words, no need to dissect the moment or what it could have led to. You don’t want there to be any sort of pressure between you, any expectations. Even if, deep down, all you want is to climb him like a tree, to feel the solid strength of him beneath your hands, and to finally give in to the attraction that’s been building throughout your time together. 

Pulling into the driveway and shutting of the engine, you turn to him, and turns to you, his eyes meeting yours. “Thanks for today,” he says sincerely “I… liked it.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. “Me too,” you reply, your voice just as soft. “We should do it again sometime.”

“Yeah,” Logan agrees, his gaze holding yours a hint longer before he turns away, his hand reaching for the door handle. “We should.”

—

A few days later, as everyone sits around the kitchen table after dinner, the evening suddenly takes on a new tone when your grandmother clears her throat and shoots an exchanges a conspiratorial glance at your grandfather.

“We’ve got some news,” she begins, her eyes shining with excitement. “Your grandfather and I have been invited to spend a week at the Summers’ cottage by the lake.”

You smile, genuinely happy for them. The Summers are longtime friends of your grandparents, and the idea of them getting a little vacation away sounds perfect. “That sounds wonderful! You two deserve some time to relax.”

“Well, we thought so too,” your grandfather says. “But that means we’ll be leaving the farm in your capable hands.”

It takes a moment for the full meaning of his words to sink in. You and Logan… alone… for an entire week.

Your heart skips a beat and you glimpse over at Logan, who’s sitting across the table from you, his expression neutral as he listens to your grandparents. But there’s a quick flash of something that suggests he’s as aware of the situation as you are.

A voice brings you back to the moment. “Now, don’t worry,” she says with a reassuring smile. “There’s not much that needs doing, just the usual stuff. And we’ll be back before you know it.”

Your grandfather leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he scans between you and Logan. “We trust you both to keep everything running smoothly,” he says, before he drops his voice to an embarrassingly low tone. “And to keep an eye on each other.”

You can’t help but blush at his not-so-subtle innuendo, and you quickly drop your gaze to your hands, trying to hide the warmth creeping up your cheeks. The thought of spending an entire week alone with Logan is both thrilling and nerve-wracking. The lack of a buffer—your grandparents—means that literally anything could happen. 

“Don’t worry,” you finally manage to say. “We’ve got this. You two just enjoy your time away.”

Logan, who has been uncharacteristically quiet during the conversation, finally speaks up. “Yeah,” he agrees, “We’ll take care of everything.”

—

Over the next couple of days, your grandparents pack their bags and make sure everything is in order before they leave. You help them with the small details, ensuring that the house is stocked with food and that all the usual chores are delegated properly.

Finally, the morning of their departure arrives. You stand by the front door, watching as your grandparents load their bags into the car. Your grandmother gives you a warm hug, “Take care, dear,” she says, kissing your cheek before hopping into the passenger’s seat. 

Your grandfather shakes Logan’s hand, giving him a firm nod. “Take care of things.”

He hums. “I will. Enjoy yourselves.”

With that, your grandparents climb into the car, and after a final wave, they drive down the long, dusty road that leads away from the farm. 

There’s a pause. 

Suddenly, you’ve become extremely aware of how close you two are standing. 

“So,” you start, hoping to ease a bit of the electricity beginning to spark. “I guess it’s just us now.”

Logan swallows thickly, his adams apple bobbing up and down. “Yeah,” he replies a bit deeper than usual. “Just us.”

“What should we do first?” you ask as casually as possible. 

He shrugs slightly, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. “Same old, I guess. Can’t let everythin’ fall apart right when they leave..”

“True. Let’s start with that.”

The two of you move into that familiar routine of farm work. Mucking out the stalls, hauling bags of feed from the shed to the barn, tending to the vegetable garden, you do it all. But even though you’re busy with work, there’s an underlying jitter to everything you do, a heightened awareness of each other’s presence that just wasn’t there before. And it’s impossible to ignore. Each time you make eyecontact it feels charged, almost like a promise of what’s to come, and it has your heart racing with exhilaration. 

That evening, after the chores are done and the sun has dropped below the horizon, you’re in the kitchen, preparing dinner while Logan finishes up outside. The quiet of the farmhouse feels different without your grandparents there—emptier, yet somehow more intimate. Domestic. You can hear the soft creak of the floorboards as he enters the house, the sound of him washing up in the sink.

And as the evening wears on, you find yourself drawing out cleaning the dishes, not wanting to end the day just yet. Logan stays close, drying the plates and placing them back in the cupboards.

“Long day,” he grunts.

“Yeah,” you agree, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “But it was nice. Peaceful.”

His eyes find yours. “Peaceful,” he echoes, though the word seems to hold a different meaning when he says it.

You both stay there, unmoving, until eventually, he takes a step back, as if sensing that the tension between you needs a moment to cool. “I’ll check on the barn,” he says gruffly. “Make sure everything’s locked up for the night.”

“Okay,” you reply, your voice softer than you intended.

Logan leaves to check on the barn, while he’s gone, your thoughts are a whirlwind of anticipation and nervous energy as you busy yourself with finishing up the remaining utensils. 

Finally, unable to stay inside any longer, you decide to step outside, hoping the cool evening air will help clear your mind. You sink down onto the old porch swing, and pull your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them as you observe the darkened landscape.

A few minutes later, you hear the soft crunch of gravel underfoot, and you glance over your shoulder to see Logan approaching the porch. He walks up the steps and pauses momentarily as if debating whether to join you. Then, with a soft sigh, he settles down beside you, his shoulder just barely brushing against yours.

It’s now or never, you think.  “We have the place to ourselves now,” you state. 

He turns his head slightly, giving you a sidelong look, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a small, knowing smirk. “Indeed we do,” he replies.

The simple acknowledgment—and the way he says it—makes your pulse quicken, and you can’t help the small huff of exasperation that escapes your lips. He’s always been so tame, so careful with his words, and while you appreciate the way he’s respected your space, you’re done with tiptoeing around.

“Do I need to spell it out for you, or—” But before you can finish the sentence, Logan moves. 

His hand reaches out, rough and warm, to cup the back of your head. Your eyes widen, and your heart thuds in your chest upon realizing what’s about to happen. And with a firm but gentle pull, he closes the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours.

You lose track of your surroundings—the night, the farm, everything—as you give yourself into feel of his lips against yours. It’s intense and claiming, a declaration of everything you’ve both been too afraid to say.

His hand tangles in your hair, holding you close as he deepens the kiss, his other hand coming to rest on your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if to ground yourself in the moment, to make sure this is real, that he’s really here, kissing you.

Moving your lips against his with equal fervor, you pour the longing you’ve been feeling all this time into it. The taste of him is intoxicating. It’s something that’s so uniquely him—so uniquely Logan—and you can’t get enough. You’ve imagined this moment in the dead of night, but nothing compares to the reality of it—to the way he kisses you like you’re the only thing that matters.

When you finally pull back, out of breath and a little dazed, Logan’s forehead rests against yours, his breath coming in heavy, uneven pants. His eyes are smoldering and intense and his smirk is gone, replaced by a deep look of yearning.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admits huskily. The way his voice has dropped three octaves isn’t missed on you. You can practically feel it vibrate down in your pu—

“You’re not the only one,” You whisper, interrupting your own thoughts. The connection between you has finally been acknowledged, and you feel a huge sense of relief.

He exhales a breath you didn’t realize he was holding, and his hand slips from the back of your head to cup your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because I don’t think I can hold back anymore.”

You lean in, pressing another kiss to his lips. “Then don’t,” you whisper against his mouth.

The spark that has been ignited between you flares up into a full blown fire, and the next kiss quickly becomes more heated. Without breaking it, Logan’s grip on your waist tightens and you let out a soft gasp as he effortlessly lifts you onto his lap. Your legs straddle his hips, and you can feel the beginning of something growing underneath you. 

The sensation is dizzying, and you instinctively press yourself closer, your fingers curling into his hair. The swing beneath you creaks softly with the movement, but neither of you pays it any mind, too lost in each other to care.

You shift slightly on his lap, grinding your hips against him, and the movement draws a deep, throaty groan from him. He pulls back just enough to catch his breath, “God, you drive me crazy,” and then he’s on you again. 

It’s wild. Hot, and heavy, and utterly consuming. His hands move from your hips to grip your ass, guiding you to move against him. It feels so good, you release a relieved sigh into his mouth, before dropping your head onto his shoulder, too caught up in the pleasure. 

The sounds of your moans fill the air as he continues grinding you against him, his own hips bucking up into your core. 

Biting your lip, you lift your head slightly, a teasing smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as your eyes dart toward the open door of the farmhouse. “You know,” you begin tilting forward to bite his ear, your voice low and playful, “as much as I’m enjoying being out here, I think we should take this inside.”

Logan’s lips quirk up into a sexy smirk. “As you wish,” he murmurs.

As you stand up, your legs a little shaky from what just occured, you peek back at him, and see that he’s already risen to his feet. Stepping closer, you slip your hand into his as you guide him toward the door. But just as you reach the threshold, a thought crosses your mind, and you pause, turning to look up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“We gotta go to your room,” you say, running your hands up and down his arms, feeling them flex underneath your touch.“I don’t think I’m ready to defile my childhood bedroom just yet.”

He raises an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face as he catches on to what you’re implying. “Oh, is that so?” he asks, his tone filled with mock seriousness. You wink in return. grabbing one of his hands and dragging him inside. 

By the time you reach his door, you’re practically vibrating with excitement, your breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. The room is simple, and the bed, neatly made, sits in the center of the room. You can’t help but laugh at the thought of how different it will look in just a few moments.

You turn to face Logan, but he doesn’t give you time to say anything, his hand reaching out, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a touch that is both tender and possessive. His thumb traces the line of your jaw as he cups your face, his eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation.

But there’s none. You’ve never been more sure of anything in your life. The need for him, for this, is so overwhelming that it’s taking every ounce of strength in you to keep from throwing yourself onto him. 

His lips find yours once more, this time more urgent, more demanding than before. He pulls you closer, his body pressing against yours. “Are you sure about this?” he asks in between kisses.

“Absolutely,” you mumble breathlessly, your hands sliding up his chest to curl around the back of his neck. The word barely leaves your lips before Logan reacts, a low hum rumbling in his chest as if your answer has unleashed something primal within him.

He kicks the door shut behind him with a force that makes the room tremble slightly, and in the same fluid motion, he pins you against the wall, lips never leaving yours as his body cages you in.

One of his thighs nudges its way between yours, the rough fabric of his jeans brushing against the sensitive spot between your legs. The friction is maddening, electric, and it hits just right, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine that rips a moan from your throat.

The sound only spurs Logan on, his own need evident in the way he moves against you. He moves his mouth to your neck, trailing up and down it with hungrily. The feel of his mouth on your skin, the way his teeth graze your pulse point, causes you to arch against him, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support.

You can feel the warmth of his breath as he presses his lips to the sensitive spot just below your ear, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin, as his hands explore your body. They’re everywhere—one gripping your hip, holding you steady against the wall, the other sliding up your side to brush against the curve of your breast. His fingers find the hem of your shirt, tugging it up, and you lift your arms to help him, the fabric sliding up and over your head before it’s tossed carelessly to the floor.

Bringing his lips back to yours, the kiss is fiery, stealing all the oxygen from your lungs as he pushes you even harder into against the wall, his thigh still working its magic. You can’t help the way your hips rock against him, the need for more—more pressure, more friction, more him.

Logan seems to sense your desperation, moaning when his hand slips down from your breast to the waistband of your jeans. He fumbles with the button for only a moment before he gets it open, his fingers slipping inside to brush against the soft skin of your lower belly. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze tempting and filled with a desire that matches your own. 

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he mutters, voice thick with want. “No idea why I waited so long.”

You can barely think, let alone form words, but you manage to breathe out, “Don’t need to wait any longer.”

The words seem to be all the encouragement he needs. In one swift motion, he slides your pants and underwear down your legs, his hands careful as he helps you step out of them. You’re left standing before him, bare and vulnerable, but the way he’s staring at you—like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen—makes you feel powerful, desired in a way you’ve never felt before.

He pulls you back into him, and this time, you can feel the hardness of his own desire against yours—bare— and it drives you insane. His grip finds you thighs as he lifts you off the ground and carries you the short distance to the bed. He lays you down gently on his bed, and breaks away long enough to strip off his own clothes. The sight of him—strong, muscular, yours—makes your breath catch in your throat. 

There’s a moment where he’s standing above you, just staring, his chest rising and falling with the effort to control himself. But then he’s on you again in an instant, his body pressing yours into the mattress, his lips claiming yours and leaving you dizzy.

You lean up into him, your hands sliding up his back, feeling the play of muscles beneath his skin as he moves against you. The need for more builds up to a breaking point, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as he grinds into you, hard and insistent against your core.

“Logan,” you breathe out. “Please.”

His name on your lips seems to break the last of his control, a desperate groan ripping out of him. He begins travelling down your body, taking his time, his lips tracing a slow, deliberate path, each kiss leaving a burning trail in its wake. His hands follow the curve of your waist, your hips, his fingers digging into your skin with just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp. Your body is practically begging for him, and you know that you’re on the verge of begging too.

Once he makes it down to your thighs, he nudges them apart, giving him better access to you. He nips and bites at them, moaning along with you. And then, with a deep, almost possessive growl, he finally lowers his mouth to you, his tongue flicking out to taste you. You react immediately, a wave of pleasure coming over you, your hands fly into his hair, tugging at the strands as you try to pull him closer.

Logan’s hands tightening their grip on your thighs as he delves deeper. You’re lost in the sensations, the pleasure growing and growing until it’s all you can think about, all you can feel. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending alight with desire, and the only thing that matters is the way he is making you feel, the way he’s driving you toward a release that you know will be earth-shattering.

And then, just as you think you can’t take any more, he pulls back slightly, his lips still hovering over you as he looks up at you, eyes black. “Tell me what you want,” he commands.

You can barely think, let alone form coherent words, but you manage to breathe out, “You. I want–I need you.”

That seems to be wanted he wanted to hear, so with a final kiss to your inner thigh, he moves back up your body, connecting his lips to yours again. You can taste yourself on his tongue as his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you slightly to position himself at your entrance.

The anticipation is almost too much, the need for him so immense that you can’t hold back the whimper that escapes your lips as begins to push, the tip of him just barely inside you, teasing, testing your patience.

“Oh god,” you moan. “I need you. Please.”

And then, finally, Logan gives you what you’ve been wanting since that time at the pond. With one slow, deliberate thrust, he pushes inside you, filling you up completely. 

Everything seems to stop for a moment, the only sound the ragged gasps of breath between you, the only feeling the overwhelming pleasure of being joined together like this, of finally having what you’ve both wanted for so long.

He pauses, lowering his head in the crook of your neck as he lets you adjust to the feeling, his breath hot and heavy against your collarbone. And then he begins to move, slow and steady at first, each thrust driving you closer to the edge, the coil inside you tightening with every stroke. The feel of him inside you, the way he moves against you, is everything you’ve been dreaming of and more, and you can’t help the way your body responds to him, your hips lifting to meet his every movement.

The gentle, deliberate pace soon gives way to something more urgent, more desperate, as the need for release takes over. Each thrust drives you higher, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level, until teetering on the edge.

And then, he sends you over it. The orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your entire body shuddering with the intensity of it, your voice lost in the cry of pure ecstasy that escapes your lips. Logan follows you a moment later, his own release crashing into him hard, his body trembling against yours as he buries himself deep inside you, his breath hot and ragged against your neck as a loud, deep, groan reverberates in his throat. 

Neither of you can move, lost in the aftermath of your shared pleasure, your bodies still entwined, as you come down from the high. He tightens his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your temple as he tries to catch his breath. And when he does, he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes.

“You okay?” he murmurs. 

You nod, reaching up to cup his face in your hands, your thumbs gently brushing over the rough stubble on his cheeks. “I’m more than okay,” you whisper back, voice full of emotion. “That was… everything.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of Logan’s lips, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, his arms still wrapped securely around you. “Yeah, it was,” he agrees.

Eventually, he eases out of you with a tenderness that makes you sigh softly. He walks out into the washroom, and gets a warm towel, wiping you and himself down. After, he settles beside you on the bed, his arm draped over your waist, holding you close. The two of you stay like that for a long time, wrapped in each other’s arms, until the exhaustion of the day begins to catch up with you, and you feel your eyes growing heavy.

“Get some rest,” you hear, “We’ve got plenty of time… no need to rush.”

You nod sleepily, snuggling closer to him as you let your eyes drift shut, the steady pulse of his heart lulling you into a peaceful sleep. 

—

You wake to the feeling of warmth and security, Logan’s breathing against your ear, his arm still clinging possessively over your waist. The events of the previous night come rushing back, and a satisfied smile curves your lips as you snuggle closer to him.

But it isn’t long before that peaceful contentment becomes something more. As you move around, the feel of his skin against yours, the warmth of his breath on your neck, and the memory of the passion ignites a familiar heat low in your belly

He stirs beside you, his hand tightening around your waist as if sensing your thoughts. Pulling you closer, his nose nuzzles against your neck, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin there. 

His voice is rough with sleep as he murmurs against your skin, “Morning…”

The simple word, spoken in that deep, gravelly tone, is enough to make you ache for him all over again. You turn in his arms, meeting his gaze, and the look in his eyes—dark and hungry—tells you that he feels the same way. 

The morning starts in the best way possible, the both of you breathless, spent, and with the knowledge that this isn’t a one-time thing. The connection between you is too strong, too consuming to be satisfied with just one night or even one morning. And as the day stretches out before you, the realization hits that this hunger, this need, will follow you both everywhere you go.

Throughout the week, the two of you are completely insatiable for each other. It’s like the floodgates have opened and have no intention of closing. Every moment you’re together becomes an opportunity. 

It starts innocently enough—just a kiss in the barn when you’re supposed to be checking on the horses. But that kiss quickly spirals and before you know it, Logan has you pressed up against the wooden wall, his lips on your neck, his hands roaming your body. The scent of hay and leather mixes with the heady scent of him as he takes you right there, the barn filled with the sound of your moans and the creak of the old wooden beams.

Or when you’re in the back shed, ostensibly looking for some tools to finish up some chores, the moment the door closes behind you, and you both know there’s no point in pretending. Logan’s hands are on you before you can even say a word, lifting you onto the workbench with ease as he claims your lips in a searing kiss. 

At the pond too, the tranquil, secluded spot now holds an entirely different kind of allure to what it had before. One afternoon, you find yourselves there again, the cool water calling your name. But as you strip down to swim, the sight of him watching you is enough to make it seem less inviting than the feel of his hands on your skin. You pull him in with you, the rippling water doing nothing to muffle the sounds of your shared pleasure.

By the end of the week, you’re exhausted but in the best possible way, your body and soul both filled with the kind of satisfaction that comes from truly giving in to what you want, to who you are together. And as the sun sets on the final day of your week alone together, you find yourselves back in Logan’s room, the place where it all began. 

The bed, once neat and tidy, is now a tangle of sheets and pillows, the evidence of your shared moments of bliss scattered around the room. Logan lies beside you, his hand gently stroking your hair as you rest your head on his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

“This week… it’s been more than I ever expected,” he admits quietly, his fingers brushing gently over your skin. “I don’t want it to end.”

You lift your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his, and you can see the same emotion reflected there—the same desire to hold on to what you’ve found together. “It doesn’t have to,” you reply. “We don’t have to go back to the way things were before.”

Logan’s hand tightens around yours, a small, almost imperceptible smile curving his lips. “No, we don’t,” he concurs. 

—

The morning your grandparents arrive, you and Logan are in the kitchen, finishing up lunch. Your grandmother is the first to step through the door, her face lighting up as she sees the two of you. “We’re back!” she announces, her voice cheerful as she sets her bag down by the door.

You rise to greet her, giving her a warm hug. “How was the trip?”

“Oh, it was lovely,” she replies, her eyes twinkling as she pulls back to look at you. “The cottage was just as beautiful as ever. And the Summers send their love.”

Your grandfather enters next, a gleeful smile on his face as he takes in the sight of you and Logan in the kitchen, together. “Everything go smoothly while we were gone?” he asks.

You blush. “Yes, everything was fine.”

Then they do that thing they’ve been doing the whole time you’ve been with them, where they exchange a glance—and share a look that speaks volumes. It’s the kind of look that only comes from years of understanding each other without words, and you can tell they knew exactly what they were doing when they left you and Logan alone for the week. 

“Well, that’s good to hear,” your grandmother says with a mischievous smile, her eyes flicking between you two in a way that makes you wonder just how much they’ve guessed.

“Seems like you two managed just fine without us.” Your grandfather says, patting Logan on the shoulder. 

You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and you steal a look at Logan, who meets your eyes with a small smirk. It’s a way to tell you that he’s just as aware as you are of what your grandparents are thinking. But there’s no embarrassment on his face, only a quiet confidence, a certainty that whatever happened between you was exactly what was meant to be.

—

The next month flies by, the routine of everything staying largely the same except for one thing. You and Logan are inseparable, drawn to each other like magnets, and with each passing day, it seems like that attraction only grows stronger. 

It’s not just the passion that binds you, though that spark is always there, and most often times doesn’t go ignored. It’s the little moments that fill your days—the way his hand brushes yours as you walk side by side, the way he rests a gentle hand on the small of your back when you’re working together in the barn, or the way his fingers grip your waist as he helps you mount your horse (even though you don’t need it). 

The work on the farm continues to get done, but there’s a new layer to everything you do—a sense of shared purpose, of partnership. And even though the days are long and tiring, you find yourself looking forward to each task, knowing that Logan will be there beside you, sharing the load, offering his quiet support and his easy, comforting presence.

As the sun begins to rise one breakfast, you grandfather announces that he needs to run into town to pick up some tools for a repair project. He’s heading out the door, and as he grabs his keys from the hook, he turns to Logan with a nod.

“Logan, why don’t you come along? Could use an extra pair of hands,” he suggests, his tone casual.

Your man agrees without hesitation, always ready to lend a hand. But as he follows your grandfather out the door, he pauses for just a moment, whirling back to look at you, and what you see on his face is insane—there’s a deep yearning, a longing that tugs on your heartstrings. It’s almost as if to say that he wishes he could stay, he doesn’t want to be apart from you, even for the short trip into town. 

You have half a mind to join them. 

The intensity of that look lingers in the air long after he’s turned away and stepped out the door, and your grandmother doesn’t miss a thing. Once the men are in the truck and begin to drive off the property, she turns to you with a teasing smile, one eyebrow raised in amusment. 

“He’s really got it bad for you, doesn’t he?” she says affectionately. “I’ve never seen a man look at a woman the way he looks at you.”

Your heart blooms in your chest. “I guess he does,” you reply, your voice soft,  breathless as the weight of your feelings for him wash over you. 

Your grandmother chuckles, stepping closer to place her hand on your arm “And you’ve got it bad for him too, I’d say.”

You laugh. “Yeah, I do.”

—

Several weeks later, it’s raining. That should have been the first sign that this day wasn’t going to go to plan. You’re sitting inside, curled up next to Logan on the old chesterfield, his arm wrapped around you as you both enjoy the warmth and quiet of the afternoon. 

But then you decide to go through some emails—just a quick check, nothing more, to clear out any lingering notifications. You unlock your phone and start scrolling through your inbox, Logan’s fingers tracing lazy circles on your shoulder as you do. Most of the emails are routine—newsletters, updates, the usual clutter—but then you see it, nestled among the others like a tiny, unexpected bombshell.

It’s an email from the company you applied to months ago, the one you almost forgot about in the blissful haze of farm life. The subject line makes your heart skip a beat: Congratulations! Offer of Employment.

Your breath catches, and you sit up a little straighter, your heart pounding in your chest as you open the email. The words leap off the screen: We are pleased to offer you the position, starting in two months.

You stare at the email, a mixture of shock and elation washing over you. This is it—your dream job, the opportunity you’ve been working toward for years. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted, the kind of position that could set the course for your entire career. But as the initial wave of excitement begins to ebb, a heavy weight settles in your chest, pulling you back down to earth.

You glance over at Logan, who’s still relaxed beside you. His eyes are closed, his head resting back against the couch. The sight of him, so content, makes your heart ache, because with this job offer comes a harsh reality: accepting it means leaving him, leaving this life you’ve built together, at least for a while. And you don’t know when—or even if—you’ll be back.

Suddenly, his eyes flutter open in response to your shifting, and he looks over at you, concern flickering across his features. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “I… I just got an email,” you begin shakily as you turn the screen toward him so he can read it for himself.

He takes the phone from your hand, his eyes scanning the email. You watch his expression carefully, searching for any sign of what he’s feeling. At first, there’s no reaction, just the steady, focused way he reads the words. Yet as he reaches the end, you see it—the subtle tightening of his jaw, the pinching together of his eyebrows. 

He hands the phone back to you wordlessly.

Then, “This is what you’ve been waiting for.” His voice is steady, but there’s a sadness there too, a heaviness that you can’t ignore.

You nod, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Yeah… it is.”

There’s a long stretch of nothing, the sound of the rain outside filling the silence between you. Logan looks away, his gaze fixed on the fire as if trying to find the right words. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, measured. “You have to take it.”

You swallow hard. “But what about us? I don’t know when I’ll be back… or if I’ll even be able to come back.”

Logan’s hand tightens around yours, his grip firm, grounding. “We’ll figure it out,” he says, though you can hear the strain in his voice, the way he’s trying to hold back his own emotions for your sake. “You’ve worked too hard for this to pass it up.”

His words are supportive, encouraging, but you can see the the way he’s starting to close in on himself, as if already bracing himself for your departure. The thought of being apart from him is unbearable.

You lean into his touch, your head resting on his shoulder, and he wraps his arms around you, holding you close. “I don’t want to leave you,” you whisper as the tears finally spill over.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there as if trying to convey all the things he can’t bring himself to say. “I don’t want you to leave either,” he admits. “But I’ll be here when you get back. However long it takes.”

And so begins the countdown to your departure. You always knew it was going to come, always knew you were going to have to leave your grandparents again, but you didn’t expect to find the love of your life here, and that makes it so much harder.

—

The remaining two months become a bittersweet blend of cherished moments and a looming sense of inevitability. Each day feels both precious and fleeting, a constant reminder that your time together is running out, and it shapes every decision, every action, every word between you. 

In the past, your days had been filled with the rhythm of farm life—early mornings, long hours of work, and evenings spent in each other’s arms, exhausted but content. But now, there’s a conscious effort to carve out time just for you two, time that’s not dictated by chores or routine. You start taking more trips to the pond or into town, something you hadn’t quite as often before. 

These dates are different from the intense, passionate moments you’ve shared on the farm—they’re softer, more tender, as if you’re both trying to imprint each other’s presence into your memories. You hold hands as you walk on the streets, your fingers intertwined, and every now and then, Logan will pull you close, pressing a kiss to your temple or your lips, as if he needs to reassure himself that you’re still there with him.

Even the way you make love changes during these months. The hunger and desire that had once defined your physical relationship are still there, of course—Logan’s touch still ignites a fire in you, and the need for each other still burns as hot as ever—but now, there’s a new dimension to your intimacy, a slow, sensual depth that hadn’t been there before. 

Your grandparents, upon hearing the news, immediately noticed the change too. While they were so extremely happy for your new job opportunity, they also knew what it meant. They’ve seen the way you and Logan have grown closer, the way your connection has deepened, and there’s a quiet sadness in their eyes whenever they see you together. 

It’s not a sadness for themselves, but for the both of you. 

They don’t say much, but their understanding is palpable. They seem to give you more grace when it comes to doing work around the farm, trying to volunteer and do as much as they can so you two can spend time alone. No matter how much you refuse, they insist, pushing you two out the door with picnic basket and blankets. 

Sitting on the porch one evening after a long day, your grandmother comes out to join you. She sits beside you, Logan’s arm is draped around your shoulders, and for a brief second, the three of you just sit in silence, watching the sunset.

“You know,” your grandmother begins, her voice soft and filled with emotion, “I see the way you two look at each other. It reminds me of your grandfather and me when we were young.”

You smile, leaning into Logan’s side as you listen to her. “You two have always been such an inspiration,” you say, meaning every word.

She chuckles, a wistful sound. “It wasn’t always easy, you know. There were times when we had to be apart, times when I wasn’t sure if we’d make it through. But we did. And looking at you two now… I know you’ll find a way.”

Logan squeezes your shoulder gently.. “We’ll figure it out,” he says, echoing the promise he made when you first told him about the job.

Your grandmother nods, reaching out to pat your knee. “I believe you will. But just know… it’s okay to be sad, to be scared. That’s part of loving someone.”

The words resonate with you, and you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

She smiles, a small, sad smile that holds a lifetime of wisdom. “You’ll be alright, my dear. Both of you.”

The days continue to slip by, and as the final weeks approach, your chest constantly feels tight. You try to make yourself feel better by lying in each other’s arms at night, whispering about the future, about the dreams you have, and the plans you’ll make when you’re together again. But still, it’s sad. 

—

Your last day creeps up on you like a shadow at dusk—inevitable, inescapable, and suddenly there, looming over everything. You wake up with a rock on your heart, the realization that this is it—your final day on the farm, your last full day with Logan before everything changes.

He is still asleep beside you, holding you close, his face peaceful in the early morning quiet. For a moment, you just watch him, memorizing the lines of his face, the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, the way his hair falls across his forehead. You want to remember everything, to carry this image of him with you when you leave.

With a soft sigh, you carefully slip out of his embrace, trying not to wake him. You pad quietly to the window, staring out at the familiar landscape that has become so dear to you. The fields, the barn, the trees swaying gently in the breeze—it’s all so beautiful, so full of memories.

You don’t realize you’re crying until you feel the wetness on your cheeks, and you quickly wipe the tears away, not wanting to start the day with sadness. But as you turn back to the bed, you see that Logan is awake, his eyes open and watching you. He doesn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes says it all—he knows what today means, and he feels it just as deeply as you do.

Wordlessly, you crawl back into bed, curling up against him, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, grounding you in the moment.

“Morning,” he murmurs.

“Morning,” you whisper back, your voice trembling slightly as you press your face into his chest, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to fall..

You just lie there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of the day pressing down on you both. Eventually, Logan pulls back slightly, his hand cupping your face as he looks into your eyes. “Let’s go to the pond,” he says delicately. “Just you and me.”

You nod, unable to find the words to respond. The pond has always been your special place, a sanctuary where you’ve shared so many intimate moments, where it feels like it all began, and so it’s only right that would spend your last day there, away from everything else, just the two of you.

You decide to walk to the pond. Logan’s hand is warm and solid in yours, and you hold on to it tightly, physically unable to tear yourself from his touch. And when you reach it, a fresh wave of emotion crashes over you. 

You and Logan stand at the water’s edge, just staring out into the pond. Then, you turn to him, your eyes filled with tears, and without hesitation, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close.

The kiss that follows is desperate, full of the need to feel connected, to hold on to each other for as long as you can. It’s not like the slow, sensual lovemaking of the past weeks—this is something desperate. Stumbling back toward the soft grass by the water’s edge, Logan gently lays you down, his hands trembling slightly as he undresses you, tears stinging behind his eyelids. As he moves over you, his body pressing against yours, there’s only this moment. 

With his skin against yours, his breath on your neck, your bodies move together. Tears spill from your eyes as you hold him tight, your hands unable to stay still, running over every part of him you can touch, needing to feel him, to anchor yourself. His lips find yours again, and the kiss is deep, full of all the love, all the emotion that neither of you can put into words. 

It’s a kiss that says goodbye, that says I love you, that says I’ll wait for you.

After reaching the peak of pleasure, you cling to each other, the tears flowing freely now, a mix of sorrow and love and everything in between.

Logan holds you close, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath ragged, his eyes wet with tears. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’ll always love you.”

“I love you too,” you choke out. “More than anything.”

—

Driving away from the farm was probably the hardest thing you've ever had to do in your entire life. Harder than moving away for university, harder than securing your first full-time job, harder than living alone in a city where you knew no one. This was different—this was leaving behind a piece of your heart, a part of your soul that you knew would never be whole until you returned.

Your hands grip the steering wheel tightly, your knuckles white as you try to focus on the road ahead, but it’s impossible to shake the image that’s burned into your mind—the image of Logan and your grandparents standing on the porch as you drove away. The sight of them, standing there side by side, watching you leave, is something that will haunt you for a long time. 

Logan, his stoic expression barely masking the pain in his eyes, his hands clenched at his sides as if holding himself back from running after you. Your grandmother, her face a mixture of sadness and pride, eyes glistening with unshed tears. And your grandfather, standing tall and strong, but with a heaviness in his gaze that spoke of understanding, of experience, of knowing just how hard this had to be.

The tears that had been threatening to fall finally break free, streaming down your face as you drive, blurring your vision and making it hard to see the road ahead. You swipe at them angrily, frustrated with yourself for breaking down like this, but it’s no use. The emotions are too strong, too overwhelming, and soon you’re bawling your eyes out, the sound of your own crying filling the car. 

You can barely catch your breath, each sob wracking your body with a force that leaves you feeling drained, exhausted, and utterly broken.

—

The time apart is worse than you ever imagined it would be. In the beginning, you and Logan make every effort to stay in touch. The calls and texts are your lifeline, little threads that keep you connected to the farm, to him, to the life you left behind. 

At first, you talk every day. his voice a comfort, a reminder that you’re not alone, that he’s still there, waiting for you. He tells you about his days, about how he still rides the horses every morning, just like he used to when you were there. 

But as time goes on, the time between each call grows. Your demanding work schedule, and the unreliable service in the countryside, make it harder and harder to find moments when you’re both free to talk. The texts, once long and filled with details about your lives, become shorter, more practical. You try to stay connected, but the distance feels like a growing chasm between you, one that neither of you can quite figure out how to bridge.

Years pass by in a blur. You have no time to spend at the farm, with it being too far away for just a weekend trip, and other commitments seem to always get in the way. 

Then, one day, the call comes—the call you’ve dreaded but somehow always knew would happen. It’s your grandmother, her voice trembling as she tells you that your grandfather has passed away. 

You take leave from work immediately, making arrangements to drive back to the farm and spend a night. The funeral is simple, attended by a few close friends and neighbours, but the absence of your grandfather is felt deeply by everyone.

And he’s there too—Logan. He’s standing off to the side, his broad shoulders slightly hunched, his face etched with grief. When your eyes meet, it’s as if no time has passed at all. You walk over to him, and without a word, he pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as if afraid to let go. 

The few years apart, the pain of the distance, all of it melts away in that embrace. You bury your face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him that you’ve missed so much, and the tears you thought you had run out of begin to fall. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, everything hitting you at once—the loss of your grandfather, the years you’ve spent apart, the life you could have had together.

He hugs you tighter, his hand gently stroking your hair. “I miss you,” he murmurs thickly. “Every damn day, I miss you.”

You spend the rest of the day together, holding each other, talking, catching up, and remembering your grandfather. Logan tells you about the farm, about how he’s kept things going, but you can hear the weariness in his voice, the toll that time and loneliness have taken on him. It’s clear that the farm hasn’t been the same without you, just as your life hasn’t been the same without him.

Later that evening, after the guests have left and the house has grown quiet, your grandmother pulls you aside. Her eyes are tired, full of sorrow, but there’s a calm acceptance in her expression. “I’ve made a decision,” she says softly, her voice steady. “I’m going to sell the farm.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but before you can protest, she continues. “Not to just anyone,” she adds quickly. “To Logan. He’s been more than just a farmhand, you know that. This place is as much his as it was ours. But… I need to move into permanent care. I can’t manage on my own anymore.”

You nod, understanding but feeling a deep sadness all the same. The farm has been a part of your life for so long, and the thought of it changing hands, even to Logan, feels like another loss. But there’s also a sense of relief, knowing that it will be in good hands, that it will stay in the family, in a way.

That night, you’re tangled in Logan’s arms. Leaving him the next morning is just as hard the second time as it was the first.

—

Five years since that fateful summer have passed, and in that time, your life changes in ways you never expected. You’ve built a successful career, made some amazing friends, travelled the world, but the hustle and bustle of city life has taken its toll. The stress, the strain, the dissatisfaction—it begins to weigh on you more and more. 

So, you make a decision.

You quit your job, find something remote, something that allows you to work from anywhere, as long as you can drive into the city every few weeks to drop off documents. It’s a drastic change, but it’s one you need. You realize that the life you want, the life you’ve been yearning for, isn’t in the city. 

It’s back at the farm.

As you step out of your car, you see him. He’s by the paddock, feeding the horses apples, just like he used to. His back is to you at first, but then he turns, and his eyes meet yours, and time stops. 

There’s a lifetime of emotions in that look—love, longing, hope. Most of all, there’s recognition, as if both of you know that this is it, that this is the moment you’ve been waiting for all these years.

And when you’re finally standing in front of him again, he reaches out, his hand trembling slightly as he cups your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek the same way it did all those years ago. 

----

[finniestoncrane]

Pornstar!Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, multi-part au fic cooper howard is a former actor, novice pornstar, and current wasteland escort. reader mistakes him for a bounty hunter and ends up getting far more entwined in his lifestyle than they intended in a bid to get what they need from the first 'kind' person they've met in a long time🤎

☢️ Chapter 1: A Bombshell, word count: 3.5k exposition time!! cooper's recent divorce has hit hard, personally and professionally. vault tec have made it impossible for him to find work in any movies so he's turned his talents to porn to make some money. as horrible as he thinks his day is though, his future is only going to get worse (reader shows up next chapter) request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: age gap reference, angst, oral sex, pornography

From the corner of the small, hideously decorated set, Cooper watched the skeleton crew work to clean things up after the last movie wrapped just an hour before. His skin began to crawl, a shudder rolling through his body, as he considered the fact that he hadn’t seen anyone take away dirty sheets or bring in clean ones since he arrived. 

And he was expected to fuck in these conditions. It was a living nightmare.

Trying to lighten his mood, he murmured what was supposed to be a positive sentiment.

“At least it’s not snuff. Way my luck’s going, wouldn’t that just be the cream on top of the pie.”

Cooper looked up to the ceiling, shielding his eyes from the bright studio lights which provided a familiar, albeit less high-end warmth than he was used to. He was working though, so he couldn’t complain too much. A paycheck meant he wasn’t out on the streets, the hot sun beating down on his face instead. And he had to face facts; the snap of some powerful fingers and he could be out on his ass at a moment’s notice, fired even from a gig like this. 

No prospects. Vault Tec had made sure of that not long after he’d confronted Barb. She’d gone straight to her bosses, that panel of cruelty he’d listened in on, and their retaliation, preventative measures to ensure they could continue on their journey of annihilation, had been swift and immeasurably evil. His reputation was ruined, the earth in which he’d grown and nurtured a career scorched, much like they intended to do with the rest of the world. Any upcoming opportunities, any interest that anyone held in him, gone. 

They’d been thorough, efficient. News reports, gossip between housewives, notes passed across the desk during auditions. They’d made sure he’d never work again, not in anything worth while, of course, holding his earnings hostage. And when he thought that was all they could take from him. His life, his money, his house, his wife. They had come for more. Armed Barb with the best lawyers money could hire and then offered him the worst deal. 

His silence in exchange for some brief, supervised moments with his daughter. Something about alcohol abuse, a half-truth at most, but enough to convince the judge. 

It felt cruel to him, that he was put in a position where he had to choose between Janey and the rest of humanity. A shitty thing to do to a man, that’s what he thought of it. And a shitty choice to make. And a shitty decision when he threw altruism to the side and secured the rest of humanity’s fate. He was just as complicit as they were, really, if he thought about it too hard. Which of course, he did. Each night as he struggled to sleep in his apartment. But whatever time was left, he reasoned that he might as well spend it being as happy as he could, even if that was only for one day a month when he was allowed to see Janey.

What was it? Two days ago he'd taken her to the zoo? So almost another month until he saw her again. A month of work. Blood, sweat, and tears. So much sweat.

He let his gaze fall down, taking in his body. Wrapped in a robe, nude underneath it, primed quickly by the makeup artists who seemed to only be making sure that his body hair was tidy and he wasn’t going to sweat too much during his part. Neatly trimmed pubic hair and strategically shaved nipples wouldn’t save him from that though. This was his third film, and each time his nerves, his guilt, his unrelenting shame as he drove his cock into the expert, very formal, professional cunt of whoever his co-star was, it was certain that he’d be sweating copiously only ten minutes in. 

“Coop? Hey, Coop! Howard! Keep your head in the game. Both of ‘em, heh.”

Now he was being bossed around by the lighting guy, someone whose name Cooper had forgotten already. The snorting laughter echoed in Cooper’s mind, bringing him firmly back to reality from his daydreaming. It was more mindless worrying than daydreaming, really, but it was the only reprieve he got these days, and now it seemed he couldn’t even find a moment of peace for that. 

Daydreaming suggested something positive, thoughts filled with desires or nostalgia for days gone by. But there wasn’t a single remaining vestige of his former life that he was happy to cling to, all of it tainted with soured memories and terrifying future prospects. And knowing what he knew, he still had to keep going. He had to pretend like nothing was wrong. A fake smile plastered on his face despite the mess that he was in. 

“Howard? Come on, man. Pull it together.”

The lighting guy was calling on him again, and this time he had the gall to look at Cooper with an impatient, furrowed brow. 

“You know they used to call me Mister Howard.”

“And they used to say I looked young and fresh faced, shit changes, man. You coming or what?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming. Keep your pants on… at least you get to.”

He knew he shouldn’t be so flippant, but his patience had worn thin over the past few months. Now that there was nothing to be charming for it was no longer second nature to him. He was rude, cold, and found he was losing himself. Deep down, there was a voice scolding him. Telling him to be thankful that when there were no more studios with their doors open to him, that he was at least able to find some places willing to hire. And while it was a lot less glamorous, he should still be grateful. 

But it was hard to feel that way when his new profession was clouded by his own insecurities.

Cooper was well aware that he wasn’t by any means experienced when it came to the world of sex. His first foray into anything of that nature was with his highschool sweetheart on prom night. An unfortunate experience that taught him nothing and ended up igniting the spark that ended that first love. Then there was Barb. He’d met her in college and they’d been together until their bitter divorce. A single one night stand between then and his current career, and that was his sexual history summed up neatly.

It always struck people as funny when they learned about his very short list of sexual conquests. He was Cooper Howard. Charming, charismatic, handsome, famous. A verified heart throb. But he was woefully unsure of what to do with that reputation, and always had been. While other stars would flirt with fans or interviewers or even directors to get a little bit more attention, Cooper was never able to offer anyone anything but a genuine and pleasant smile and maybe at a push, a mischievous wink to accompany his signature smile. He wondered how much of it had to do with the fact that he only had eyes for Barb, but even when she had pushed him to ‘play the game’ he’d still found himself unable to. 

Now, all of a sudden and based on a perception of him that was built upon years of good PR, he was thought of as some kind of casanova, and expected to act as such. He had to act like the kind of guy who charm the pants off a woman, with very little plot to back that up, and who could fuck for thirty minutes solid in front of a crew and without cumming too soon,

Interestingly, at least to Cooper, they had told him that would be the hardest part. Stamina. The suspension of orgasms. But he found it all too easy, mostly because there was never a point where he felt any kind of deeply sexual attraction to his co-stars. Much the same as his previous acting roles, he’d always viewed it as a job. It would be inappropriate to have any other feelings. The women he worked with now were beautiful, skilled, talented. But Cooper wasn’t in love with them, and he found that made it hard to coax an orgasm out of him. Luckily, that seemed to suit his new bosses pretty well. He was handsome, a known commodity, and could last a while before they worked him up to his big finale, even if they had to cut the cameras while they waited for him to get to it.

“Alright, Howard. Robe off, let’s see that cock.”

Sighing, his eyelids closing as he tried to separate himself from his actions, Cooper shrugged off the robe that covered his body, letting it slink to the floor and pool at his feet. Despite the heat, his skin still prickled as it was exposed. Nipples hardening, hairs standing on end. 

“Can we get a little enthusiasm, Coop? Like your other movies?”

Cooper muttered under his breath.

“You can get the same enthusiasm when I’m getting the same paycheck.”

“What was that, buddy?”

“I said, where do you want me?”

“Yeah… that’s what I thought. Ok, Phoebe’s gonna be on her back, that ok, doll?”

“Of course!” 

“Perfect… so, you’re gonna be here. We’re doing missionary first, then maybe we cut to some doggy style. Remember, eyes away from the camera, and make sure that whatever you’re doing we can see those genitals. They’re the real stars!”

This was his life now. His body getting first billing above his soul under whatever lewd title this was going to be given. 

“Mr Howard? I just wanted to say, I’m a huge fan. I watched your movies as a kid, you’re like, my dad’s favourite star.”

His co-star, Phoebe, if he remembered correctly, was laying on her back on the bed, waiting for him. Her big, green eyes were wide with excitement. She’d been a fan. And when she was a kid. Looking at her now, he wondered how he hadn’t noticed how young she was. Barely pushing her early twenties, fresh-faced, keen, full of hope. 

How would her dad feel about him now? Would she mention this? Talk about meeting Cooper Howard, but skirt around the exact details? Or would she brag? Maybe it was just him who had a disdain for this line of work. He certainly didn’t judge anyone else on the set. Only himself. 

“Uh… thank you, darlin’. Always nice to meet a fan.”

Phoebe giggled, a sweet sound that made his heart sink. She spread her legs wider, eyes flitting down to his cock which he was stroking slowly in a bid to get it stiff. 

“You ready to go?”

“I’m ready! Mr Howard?”

Cooper looked down in dismay, his flaccid member refusing to play along. A stubborn diva, it turned out. 

“Is… is there something wrong, Mr Howard? Is it me? I’m so sorry, you must be used to much bett-”

Cooper’s natural empathy, at least the last reserves of it, were pulled out of hibernation as Phoebe began to blush, embarrassed at what she perceived as her inability to turn him on.

“Oh, no, darlin’. This is a ‘me’ problem. You don’t worry about it at all, ok?”

He placed a hand on her bare shoulder, all lust evaporating as he comforted her, smiling back as she beamed appreciatively to him. 

“God damn it, ok, let’s get Harv in, he can do his scene with Phoebe, that ok, doll?”

“Oh for sure! I’m good to go.”

“Perfect, you’re an angel. You, Howard. We can shoot the exposition scene just now. Go to wardrobe and get your outfit.”

Oddly thankful, even though he was embarrassed at his inability to perform, Cooper headed to the small room where they held the small wardrobe for cast members. The exposition scenes were his favourite to shoot. Of course, they were poorly written, and his co-stars weren’t exactly professionally trained actors. But it at least felt like old times. Lines to memorise, a character to portray. And limited sexual encounters for him to fuck up.

Besides, it was porn, and he was the star. Which meant there was a lot more wooing. A lot more women, various actresses playing a myriad of characters, all of whom were seemingly desperate for Cooper’s cock, whatever role he happened to be playing. Once the exposition was out of the way, he had to fuck. But these scenes? He got to be enticed, which always made it a little easier on him. He might have even been looking forward to it today. A stroke to the ego, among other things. A boost to his confidence, and a little physical comfort to stave off the looming spectre of complete loneliness.

When he sifted through the rack and found his name on a plastic covered bundle, however, his brief glimpse of joy was stolen away. 

It wasn’t exactly the same, but it was close enough. The deep blue shirt, bright, golden yellow detailing. And the hat. Not identical, but anyone watching would know that he was supposed to be portraying his old self. A cowboy, the Cooper Howard people knew and loved.

On the table behind him, he rifled through the ‘scripts’ until he found the one with his name scribbled on the top. Ten lines, some room for ad-libbing. All of it cowboy themed. Pulled directly from his movies, albeit changed a little for the sake of copyright infringement. 

He couldn’t do it. 

But then he remembered Janey. How badly he’d wanted to treat her, to spoil her. And how little money he had left after alimony. And how expensive the rent was at his new apartment, which was overpriced, disgustingly decorated, and didn’t even allow pets. 

Maybe everything would be ok in the world. Maybe he’d go on living, get to see retirement, see the world flourish, the wars end. Maybe, Vault Tec and Barb would see the light, change their ways. Maybe it was all for nothing. 

So maybe he better get his shit together and start making some money, so that what was left of his future wasn’t so abysmal.

“Put on a smile and go get your cock sucked, Cooper. Not the worst day in the world, really.”

WIth a sigh of resignation, he chose to listen to his conscience, the little voice that steered him in the right direction, and put on the suit. The material was a poor quality, some cheap polyester deal, ill fitting, too baggy for his frame. And the hat was clearly something from a cheap party supply store. But as he looked in the mirror at himself, he could push away the feeling of seeing a ghost and focus on the positives. He looked almost like himself again.

“Mr Howard? They’re ready for you.”

The polite knock and the soft voice of the only runner on set came through the door, and Cooper exited, surprising the young man in the corridor.

“Oh wow.”

“What’s wrong, kid?”

“Nothing, nothing. You just… you look like you did in your movies. I’m a little bit starstruck.”

“You gave me my coffee this morning.”

The runner looked to his feet, shuffling awkwardly as he tried to explain himself.

“Yeah, but that was… now you look… y’know?”

Trying not to be impolite, Cooper pushed past him, muttering under his breath.

“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.”

Back in what the director insisted on calling “the studio” despite it being a hastily fabricated sound stage in the middle of some tacky, shared ownership mansion in the hills, Cooper was met by a new woman who introduced herself as Veronica, before quickly telling him that everyone called her Ronnie. He smiled, clutching her hand between both of his in that confident way he used to greet fans, smiling at her as she bit her lip and smirked. It was a flirtatious look, one that gave him a bit of a boost as he subtly eyed her up and down and judged her silently.

“She definitely likes you… and she’s not too bad to look at herself. Look at you, seeing the positive side of things! Well done, Cooper. Well done.”

He made his way through the first few lines, trying his hardest to maintain a look of arousal as his co-star clumsily worked through hers, emphasis and inflections all over the place, the puns not quite hitting right the way she was delivering them. But he could forgive it all as she dropped to her knees in front of him.

“Well, I have to give you something for saving me from those bandits, kind sir… maybe this will be enough to repay you.”

She was adept at unbuckling his belt, repetition and muscle memory aiding her, and he could feel his erection stirring as she pulled his flaccid cock free from his pants and began to stroke it. 

“Now, ma’am… that won’t be necessary…”

Cooper’s voice trembled over his words as he took his semi-erect cock from her and began stroking it slowly himself to keep the erection building. 

“... I did what any good man would.”

“Then let me do what any good woman should.”

He cringed hard at the line, but luckily, the grimace was covered by his mouth dropping open as Ronnie took his cock in her mouth, sliding her lips over the tip with a gentle ease that made him forget momentarily how terrible his life was at that point. 

Her tongue slid over the tip, teasing over the slit and collecting his pre-cum with a satisfying moan that vibrated through him, tingling over the sensitive nerve endings. Cooper was able to sink into it, some of the muscles in his back loosening as he let himself go. Something so satisfying about the way she held him, one hand on his testicles, the other stroking his shaft as he lips puckered around his head. 

Cooper wanted to show her. Not that she was doing anything wrong, she was doing a better job than anyone else had. Ever. But he wanted to guide her, to ease her throat over his length, to breathe through her nose as he filled her mouth, to show her how he liked it. He kept himself to himself, however, putting his fingers in the belt loops of his pants so they couldn’t reach for anything before he could stop them, like the back of Ronnie’s head to down to her round, firm breasts, or even letting his fingers trail over her-

“Cut! For fuck’s sake.”

“Just as things are looking up…”

Cooper’s attention was focused on the director who sat lazily in his folding camping chair. All of him reacted to the interruption, the disruption of his genuine pleasure, finally, for the first time in who knew how long. Tense, irate. And not in the mood.

“Alright, alright… I thought this was gonna be a one take situation, but geez, Howard. If it’s not one thing, it’s the other with you! You got lines to be getting through, imbecile! How you got hired before, I’ll never know. If it wasn’t for that wife of yours, you’d-”

“Now wait just a damn minute!”

Cooper pulled away from Ronnie, his cock bouncing around as he stomped in a way that might have seemed comical to the crew if he hadn’t looked so intense, filled with complete rage as he shook a pointing finger at the director.

“I am sick of taking this from-”

Everyone was jolted into a panic as a rumble spread through the ground. One burst.

“Can’t be an earthquake…”

The runner had only just come into the room when everything in Cooper’s vision was blocked out by a bright, white light. A quick flare, like a firework, or a flashlight being turned on in a dark room. He could see it still, but smaller, and somewhere on the horizon, down in the city. 

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Get down.”

It was perhaps the last truly selfless thing Cooper did. The glass landed on them, some people got splintered by the small shards as they fell to the ground. But they’d avoided the worst of it. And he didn’t need to help them. These were not people he cared for. They were people who were cruel, difficult, practical strangers. People who didn’t deserve what Cooper knew was coming.

He thought of that day a lot. Of how he’d had it somewhere in him, a long, long time ago, to offer himself or his wisdom in exchange for nothing, to people who these days he’d sooner shoot in the head before spitting in their cup. 

Bitterly, he indulged himself, hoping that at least some of them were suffering a fate worse than his, if such a thing actually existed. 

“Maybe the mutants.”

There was hardly any time this evening for him to satisfy his desire for revenge with fitful fantasies, however, because he was rudely interrupted by who he expected was yet another customer tapping on his shoulder. A new client who didn’t know the rules.

No touching before payment.

So he turned to politely inform them, and make sure they didn’t forget it next time.

[harrowharkwife]

the way that it's hen standing beside eddie in this moment of clear physical pain and pure, unbridled anguish and terror.

hen, who watched karen flatline a handful of episodes ago. who desperately worked to save her life in the back of that ambulance. hen, who thought she lost her wife, the love of her life, the mother of her child-

(only to end the episode with the wilson family at home together, safe and sound, hen fussing over her wife and getting her all set up on the couch to recover.)

hen, whose wife and child were simultaneously endangered in the lab explosion. hen, who was unable to rescue them herself, even though every instinct was screaming at her to run headfirst into the burning building.

(she may not have been injured the way eddie is here, but she was benched by bobby and barred from the scene on account of no longer being a paramedic.)

hen, who spent an entire episode subconsciously reflecting on her and karen's journey so far, everything they've been through together, how they built their family, and how they found their way.

(an episode written by nicole barazza keim, mind you, who happens to be- oh, yknow. one half of the writer duo behind pay it forward. no big deal. nothing to see here, keep it moving!)

so, like. of course it had to be hen, in this moment, who's here for eddie, because-

hen was the only witness to his widow's grief for buck.

christopher's back was turned, and eddie hurriedly wiped away his tears before chris could see.

but hen? she saw all of it. and we still haven't circled back to that fact.

in an episode called pay it forward, i'm starting to think this may be hen's chance to pass on the lesson that she and karen learned in tomorrow (courtesy of chimney). how did that go again, exactly?

oh, right:

chimney: hen is not actually dead, but-but she had a pretty bad near-miss accident last night.

karen: what the hell, howie? you can't just say stuff like that.

chim: i know. i just, i... we had a really tough call. and it was rough and there was a minute when i thought hen was dead, and it scared the crap out of me.

karen: and you decided to pay that experience forward?

chimney: yes. look... look, i know you two broke up. and i just thought you needed to know what it would feel like if you woke up tomorrow and you found out hen wasn't in this world anymore.

...

karen: because i thought you were dead. when howie called, there was a moment when i thought you died in that accident. when i felt like i'd lost you forever. and it scared me. to think of you being gone. never having a chance to fix things or try again.

hen: karen, it's too late.

karen: it's not. as long as we are both here on this earth... as long as we have tomorrow, it's not too late.

[dnpbeats]

Dan and Phil 2024 Upload Stats: Half a Year in Review

hi everyone! as we are officially halfway through 2024, i thought it would be fun to make a little post about some intersting stats from d&p's uploads this year! especially as things will likely start slowing down (or rather stay slowed down) during the latter part of this year due to the tour! as a reminder, spreadsheet can be found here :)

general stats

there have been 42 uploads so far this year. 13 of those are AP and the other 29 are DAPG, meaning they've uploaded over twice as much on the gaming channel

the average time between uploads across all channels is 3.9 days. looking at the channels individually, the average upload time between AP videos is 11.9 days and for DAPG it's 5.4 days

across both channels, dan and phil have helped edit 81% of the videos. they have only edited one out of the 42 videos on their own, which was on DAPG

100% of AP videos have had spons (capita£ester strikes again) and 79.3% of gaming videos have had spons (looking at both channels together, 85.7% have had spons)

their average upload time is 8:26pm

dan has been in (in some capacity) 46.2% of the AP videos this year

24.1% of the gaming videos have been non-gaming content

phil has been the one to tweet about the gaming videos 86.2% of the time

date/time stats

wednesday is their most popular day to upload, with 11 uploads (the majority of which have been DAPG uploads). sunday and friday are tied for second with 10 uploads each

saturday is the only day that they haven't uploaded on this year (this includes irregular uploads too, like ads and livestreams!)

average upload time for each day of the week:

sponsor stats

nordvpn is their most common sponsor, having sponsored 7 of their videos this year (4 on DAPG, 3 on AP). their second most-common sponsor is dragon city, having sponsored 6 videos (all DAPG)

6 videos have had no sponsors (again, all DAPG)

data for all spons:

editor stats

our queen superseizer had edited/helped edit 12 videos (11 DAPG vids, 1 AP)

seizer has edited 3 vids on her own (3x as many as d&p 🤩)

runtime stats

stats exclude poppy playtime chp. 3 bc it's so long lol

thursday uploads have the longest average runtime at 24:18. friday uploads have the shortest average runtime of 16:56

afk journey is the sponsor with the longest average runtime (29:56). the second-longest average runtime is videos with no sponsors (28:42). the sponsor with the shortest average runtime is headspace (14:54)

seizer on average edits longer videos! the average length of a video she has edited/helped edit is 25:11. for d&p the average length is 20:01

series stats

the sims series has had the most uploads this year, with 7. DvP has had 3 uploads and golf with friends has had 1 upload

on average there are 22 days between sims uploads and 65 days between DvP uploads

seizer is the only one trusted with editing sims vids 🙏🏻

so yeah! there are even more stats in the spreadsheet but i just wanted to include the more intersting stuff here. there's also a calendar if you want to visually see the distribution of days that videos have been uploaded (including irregular uploads!). also there's still the interactive bit where you can calculte the length between two uploads :3

lmk if you have any questions or want to see any other comparisons/charts i don't have!!

[easy-there-leftovers]

I See You, Darling (Masterlist)

"Bestow upon me, my dearest, the fortitude for this journey, and shield me from the shadows of malice. For in your embrace, I discover my sanctuary."

Playlists: » Please. See Me, Darling - “Now, tell me I’m beautiful and we can call it a day.” “By the gods above, you’re beautiful, you magnificent bastard.” » ISY,D; The Soundtrack - "My thoughts go out to you, my immortal beloved… I can live only wholly with you or not at all…"

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The original prompt

Now on Ao3

Chapter 1 - A story in which an overworked art student longs for a fictional character that they've devoted so much of their time to. Astarion realizes there's someone else watching him. And he can't wait to get acquainted with them.

Chapter 2 - The reader believes they are in a dream. It wouldn’t be the first time their fantasies conjured up such an obscure, yet somehow realistic scene. And so they’ve elected to treat the experience with as much realism as one would observe in a dream; little to none.

Chapter 3 - As an outsider to most of everyone’s problems, you find your place by helping in whatever way you can. Even if that may be at the expense of your own comfort, but at least it’s been fun so far.

Chapter 4 - A party is being held at the camp in the heroes’ honor, which greets you with a lively crowd that you’ll hopefully meet again soon. And with a gathering this large, you’re bound to garner attention. But with a constitution as poor as yours from the night before, a round of drinks is the last thing you want. 

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In abit of a rut, so do forgive me for the lack of a proper update. Instead, have this little gift!! Two playlists; taking into consideration the different appraoches to different perspectives.

Thank you to @rey26, @shyminnie07, @lynnloveshobi, @iggee-rose, @automnepoet, @tiannamortis, @aoirohi, @sarkara211, @jane-3043, @h3110-dar1in9, @h3ll0k1ttyl0ver333, @mimziethealien, @squichymochi, @sharabay, @furblrwurblr, @dork-of-the-universe, @thedevilssinner, @fuckalrighty, @queenofthespacesquids, @perseny, @goldenplutus, @h4nluv, @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer, @auszimbo, @maruichio, @iamsexytrash, @craig-mywifeisdead-boone, @grimissleepy, @fandomsfanman, @bitchyzombienacho, @r1kk, @ancuninstar, and @izuoyarmin for asking to be tagged for the series.

[itsabouttimex2]

Can I request a platonic yandere sun wukong and macaque realizing that the teen mystic monkey they've been raising is planning to leave ffm?

O Child of Unity

(I’m assuming you want Shadowpeach, then? I’m still not the best with it, but I’ll try! Also, a new bot is up!🧡💜 Also again, this fic is compliant with Deepest Hues- which I’ll expand on soon!)

There are four base colors in our world: black, white, yellow, and red. Together, these four hues represent the base components of alchemy- nigredo, albedo, citrinitas, and rubedo.

In times ancient and forgotten, a massive reservoir of these four colors existed in each corner of the earth. Like pools of chaos they surged, brimming with power and life. From each of these brightly-hued depths did an egg arise, containing a Mystic Monkey of incredible potential.

One of light. One of shadow. One of snow. One of fire.

And recently, a brand new simian, born of a union from nigredo and citrinitas, pitch black and bright yellow fusing their mystical lineage into a mottled green.

Their union blessed the world with a little virescent monkey, big eyes and soft fur-

You.

The world is such a wonderful place, you’ve learned. Geysers of boiling water and hunched spikes of snow. Sand white as bone and lakes stained pink by algae. Forests comprised of just one tree and diminutive flowers with digestive maws.

From book to book you’ve torn, indulging your curious brain in every last little wonder of the world- from glacial peaks to crystal caverns.

How many pages have you worn away by now, dreaming of wonders far beyond your reach? How many dreams has your mind spun, longing for something new? How many times have you lost the world to a lovely little daydream that took hours to shake?

A less generous eye would view this behavior as unhealthy. They might even refer to it as a ‘coping mechanism’, spending half the day locked into a foggy haze, pretending that life was more exiting, more fulfilling.

Even you had come to realize the inherent instability of your constant stupor, eventually.

All you have to do to fix this problem, then… is make those dreams a reality!

…right?

Right! No time to waste worrying!

Packing is easy! It used to be a time-killer of yours as a child, pretending to go on adventures across the world with only your trusty well-stocked backpack. All these little games were played out under the watchful eyes of your fathers, ensuring your fun never turned dangerous or led you somewhere that was off-limits.

You’d pick a locale and prepare for an ‘expedition’ with snacks and clothes, always running and asking Bába to open the pantry for you.

“A winter adventure,” Sun Wukong would lovingly coo, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Sounds like fun, bud! Don’t forget to pack your warm socks, kay?”

He’d laugh and play along, pushing sandwiches and chocolate protein bars into your hands, always with a pouch of juice to pair. Sometimes he’d go the extra mile of bagging them up, giving you a paper sack that wouldn’t be out of place on a field trip.

(How often you begged to be enrolled in school, physical or at least online. And your fathers would ‘tsk’ and shake their heads, but quickly promise you ice cream as a bandage balm for your youthful sorrow.)

And then he’d watch your little journeys with a quirked eyebrow, smiling as you pulled your plushes (given that you had no playmates outside of base simians and your often busy fathers) along and narrated your games.

You’d fill out a page in your bulky journal detailing the ‘journey’, consigning your little hours of make-believe to white pages.

And as you had grown, that many-paged journal stayed tucked under your arm, all your thoughts and hopes written away into it.

Even now, as you stare out at the endless horizon so plainly in front of you- the book is held to your chest, warmed by the excited beat of your heart.

It holds all those dreams you’ve dreamt for a full decade now, each one precious and utterly perfect to your nostalgic mind.

The grass is long and bright, glistening with morning dew. It sparkles under the rising rays of the sun, a picturesque landscape laying in front of you. Flower Fruit Mountain (Mount Huaguo, as your fathers sometimes called it) was beautiful. Is beautiful. But pretty can only satiate the mind for so long, and certainly couldn’t fulfill your wanderlust any longer.

You had explored every cave, climbed every tree, mucked every puddle, cuddled every monkey.

It had been nice. And you’d miss it, but-

The world was waiting!

And you could wait no longer.

Stuffing the oversized book into your backpack, you do the one thing you’ve wanted to do for years- and take off running.

Lush grass rips under your feet, laying in scattered half-length piles as your boots tear across the wet ground. Muddy footprints squash down flowers and weeds alike, nothing stopping your gleeful dash.

Over puddles and through tree crooks, beneath towering canopies and across deep ponds- you run. All that hampers you is the heavy bags strapped to your back and waist, full of the supplies you once only dreamed of handling during a journey.

A real, actual journey! How long had you waited?! Years and years! And it was finally coming true!

But you turn the corner of a rock too quickly, and smack head-on into something solid and warm, the figure grasping you tightly.

And all too suddenly, one of your fathers- Macaque- stares down at you, clearly displeased.

“Explain,” he sharply says, holding out the note you had left on the dining table, unfolded and excitedly penned. It had been written in such a rush of gleeful adrenaline that some parts are nigh-unintelligible.

But; even with wild pen scrawl and joyful errors, it was clearly an intended farewell.

The claw marks shredding through half of the paper is proof that he hadn’t exactly taken the notion well.

“Y/N. What the hell is this? You’re running away?”

“N-no! I’m just-“

“Do you think this is how it all works? You throw a note on the table and head out into a world you know nothing about?”

“I do know about the world! I’ve been researching it for years!”

“Your ‘research’ doesn’t mean a thing! You have no skills, no experience, nothing!”

“Because you won’t let me do anything!”

The accusation causes him to bristle in anger, lips pulled back as he snarls. His fangs, glistening and sharp, draw your attention.

(Sometimes you forget what Macaque has done. How scary he can be. Sometimes you forget that he’s never regretted his crimes. Moments like this are happy to remind you.)

Your bravado and boldness vanish startlingly quickly, shrinking under the furious gaze of the simian.

The Six-Eared simian snags your wrist, stomping over to a cavernous rift of shadows. With your arm held tight, he jumps in and drags you along.

You fall from a ceiling and into the waiting arms of your other father, Wukong. He grins and nuzzles the fur of his cheek to your own, relishing in the warmth of familial closeness. A golden brazier burns next to him, recently lit and brightly chugging the wooden fuel within.

“Someone was up to a little bit of mischief, huh?”

His reaction is the polar opposite to Macaque- where his husband blows up and seethes, the Great Sage lies to himself and pretends that everything is okay. It’s easier to think of his child as a little imp than an outright runaway.

As Wukong dotes, Macaque rips away the thick jacket and boots that you were wearing, throwing them into the nearest closet.

You didn’t need them, after all. You weren’t going anywhere.

Though a part of you is disgruntled to have some of your clothing torn away so suddenly, it’s only when he snatches the backpack that you scrabble from the Great Sage’s arms.

“Don’t mess with that!” You call, trying to wrangle the bag from his grip- but he’s got your journal before you manage to pry it free.

He holds the gargantuan journal, full of all the dreams you had through your life- to see snow penitentes, to view miscolored lakes, to visit ancient forests, to explore the world that had been kept from you for so long.

“This is what gave you those ideas? Your little baby book, kiddo?”

“It’s not-“

“Shut it! You tried to run away. You don’t get to speak right now.”

He takes a moment to breath, glaring at the offending journal. To him, the answer is clear- get rid of the book, and he’ll get rid of your silly ideations of “freedom”. If it comes undone to the very binds, then maybe you’ll give up on leaving and return to the cozy schedule your fathers adhere you to. Forehead kisses and morning cuddles, shared meals and long naps through the cold of winter.

Without it, his life will go back to being perfect, and to an obsessive villain like Macaque?

A little bit of your sorrow is worth the happiness that keeping you close brings.

“Enough of these pointless dreams.”

The Six-Eared Macaque stands to his full height, the multicolored glow on his ears fading to black as his eyes burned red. With one angry sling, he throws your book into the deepest ashes of the gilded brazier.

It catches quick, melting and warping for just a brief few milliseconds before incinerating.

You stand there for a moment in sheer disbelief, watching as a decade of heartfelt writing crumbles away in seconds.

The raw, unspeakable hurt it produces leaves you breathless and mute, incapable of summoning even a single sorrowful word.

Macaque staggers back as tears bubble up in your eyes- even the villain himself has realized that this was a step much too far. His intention; as often to the innocent and undeserving, was to inflict suffering.

Even his own family wasn’t off the table.

His sable hands are much too slow in retrieving the book from uncaring flames, snagging only an empty cover now bereft of inner pages.

Ruined. Utterly ruined and destroyed.

The slow realization that you’ll never have back your childhood journal, never read again your years of games and research, never write another word in the precious book, never finish it- never, never, never, never, all in a devastating row.

The realization sinks in slow, but clicks into place all the same.

A low whimper builds in your throat, slowly pitching up as wetness spill down your cheeks. So many tears fall that they blind your vision, pairing well with the sobs that escape you.

Wukong glares at his partner with boiling eyes, a look of outright hatred in them. “Macaque. What. The. Hell.”

“…they h-had to learn a lesson,” he weakly justifies, his cowardice bubbling up in full force.

Run from Five Phases Mountain. Run from the Brotherhood. Run from Wukong. Run from the Lady Bone Demon. Run from the Samadhi Fire. Run from consequences and run from heroes, and pray that everyone forgets how badly he deserves to be punished for his cruelty and arrogance and sins.

Still a little rat, slinking in the shadows.

“Get out,” the Great Sage snarls, fangs dripping with immeasurable hatred, and, as ever, as always-

Macaque runs.

Wukong turns to you as his pitch husband bolts, throwing off his chest-plate and wrapping his unfathomably powerful arms around your quivering form.

He’s warm, much like a spring of volcanic water, or sun-kissed wood.

Or a raging, burning fire.

You don’t really want to be warm right now.

But the ferocity with which you pound his chest and gut leave the simian utterly unfazed, shushing and hushing you all the same.

“Shh, pumpkin, shh. You know your Bába hates to see you cry. C’mon, let’s dry those tears. Y’know what? How about we get you some ice cream, bud? Something sweet and cold to make you feel better.”

Wukong doesn’t wait for a response. He rarely does. The immortal boosts you up into his arms, heading to the kitchen. He kisses your cheeks and forehead and the bridge of your nose, trying to placate your tears with an overdose of physical affection.

This was your life. Your world.

And you were starting to doubt that you’d ever leave it.

[ultrone]

୧ ‧₊˚ look after you ! 🛹

jackieshauna with skater!gf ✫ u hurt yourself while skating and ur gfs take care of you <33 angst n fluff, 2.9k wc

💥 ⏆   : 🩹 ﹢

the clock struck 3:45 pm, and the bell rang, indicating the end of the school day. collecting your physics book and backpack, you said goodbye to kevyn, your usual seatmate in your last block, and made your way to your locker. inside, you unloaded your heavy backpack and retrieved your skateboard, neatly stashed at the back.

each morning, shauna would give you and jackie a ride to school. however, for the journey back home, you often preferred to skate. while you'd rather ride with your girlfriends, they were tied up with soccer practice almost every day. nevertheless, it didn't bother you; after all, you spent most of your time with them anyway, and you genuinely enjoyed skating. the sensation of the breeze against your skin, the rhythmic clatter of wheels on the pavement, combined with your favorite music, felt very soothing and therapeutic.

once you stepped onto the school’s parking lot, you quickly placed your board on the ground and hopped onto it with your usual ease. the trip back home wasn't too long, just about 10 to 15 minutes on your skateboard. however, occasionally, you'd take a different route through the nearby park or empty parking areas, extending your ride for fun or to practice some tricks along the way.

honestly, you were relieved when your girlfriends had practice at the same time you skated. although they don’t mind, they've been a bit worried because you've been getting hurt quite often.

you've been skating for a while now, but recently, you've been putting extra effort into mastering some new tricks. your recent focus has been on different kickflip variations, and you've also started working on your grind and slides. while you've only ended up with some scratches and bruises so far, nothing too unusual, your girlfriends can be a bit nagging about it. jackie even suggested getting you a helmet, but you brushed it off, saying helmets are for "losers"—even shauna chuckled at the idea, so jackie let it go. nevertheless, they were genuinely concerned and insistent about you taking it easy. but of course, now that they had no eyes on you, you practiced and fell as much as you could without a care in the world. and if you were being honest, you enjoyed the extra attention and affection they showered you with when you were injured.

around eight minutes into your skating session, your stomach started growling. the lunch today was a burger with one of the toughest patties you've ever bitten into, along with some dry ass fries, so you tossed your tray and decided to skip lunch altogether. just as you were cringing at the memory of the unappetizing cafeteria food, your eyes lit up when you saw the glowing sign of the "pearl diner," renowned for serving the best milkshakes in wiskayok. without a second thought, you hopped off your skateboard and went in, ordering one to go.

now, with your refreshing and delicious drink in hand, you resumed your journey back home, taking a slight detour to the left, heading towards the park nearest to your house.

now that you had reached your destination, fortunately finding it empty, you cranked up your music all the way up and began taking longer strides, picking up speed. for the first few minutes, you warmed up with a few ollies, pushing yourself to go as fast as possible, and occasionally sipping from the milkshake in your hand. you were so accustomed to high speeds that you didn't bother stowing away your backpack and drink. the thought of falling seemed distant, as you were feeling particularly confident today.

once you felt confident enough, you rode towards the stairs that led to the parking lot. there was a bar dividing them in the middle, and you deemed it the perfect spot to practice your slides. the timing couldn't be better, as the park was completely empty, sparing you from any karens scolding you for supposedly ruining the bar's paint, which, according to them, had been "funded by the neighborhood's taxes," you mimicked mentally in a mock high-pitched voice as you rolled your eyes.

approaching the railing, you took one last stride, placing both feet on the board in an ollie position, ready to execute your trick. as you got close to it, you performed an ollie, and the middle of your board landed perfectly on the bar, allowing for a smooth slide. however, the impact was stronger than you anticipated, causing you to fall hard against it. by the time you were nearing the end of the slide, your skateboard broke in half, resulting in a harsh fall to the ground. in the process, your drink spilled, and your face slid against the pavement.

"hngh-" you grunted, feeling a loud ringing in your ears and too weak to stand up. you realized you must have hit your head pretty hard as your face felt numb. not only that, but your hands and knees burned, likely from scratches. lying flat on the ground, you pulled out your earbuds, finding the music too much to bear. you remained in that position for a couple of minutes until you started to feel the floor beneath your face becoming very wet. shit, now my face is going to be all sticky from the milkshake, you thought, assuming the wetness was from your spilled drink, too lightheaded to detect the metallic odour instead of sweetness.

it wasn’t until you heard two car doors shutting loudly, followed by a pair of hurried footsteps, that you snapped back to your senses.

the world swirled around you, a dizzying blend of pain and confusion. your skateboard lay in pieces beside you, and the taste of blood lingered on your lips. the metallic scent was unmistakable now—definitely not from a spilled milkshake. you groaned, trying to push yourself up, but your limbs felt like lead.

“what the hell happened here?” shauna’s voice cut through the haze. she knelt beside you, her soccer cleats digging into the gravel. her eyes widened as she took in the sight of your battered face. “jackie, get over here!”

jackie appeared at shauna’s side, her expression shifting from curiosity to concern. “whoa, what-”

“look at her!” shauna gestured at you, her anger palpable. “that damn skateboard-”

“shauna, focus,” jackie interrupted. “we need to help her.”

you blinked at them, their faces coming into focus. they both stared at you with concern etched on their faces, moving in sync as jackie dropped to her knees beside you as well.

“hey,” jackie said gently, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. “can you hear us? do you know your name?”

you managed a weak nod. “y/n,” you whispered. “i… i think i hit my head.”

shauna’s hands were surprisingly gentle as she examined your face. “fuck, those scratches are deep. we need to get you to a hospital.”

“no hospitals,” you protested, wincing as jackie dabbed at your wounds with a tissue from her pocket. “i’ll be fine.”

shauna scoffed. “fine? you’re bleeding all over the place, y/n. we’re taking you to the er.”

“but my skateboard,” you mumbled, feeling absurdly attached to the broken pieces beside you.

jackie exchanged a glance with shauna. “we’ll worry about the skateboard later,” she said firmly. “right now, let’s focus on getting you patched up.”

and just like that, they hoisted you up, one on each side. their strength surprised you—they were soccer players, after all. they half-carried, half-dragged you toward the car. shauna took the driver's seat, placing your backpack on the passenger seat, while jackie sat in the back with you, letting your head rest on her legs.

you knew shauna was mad without needing to look at her. all the signs were there—the slight narrowing of her eyes, the clenched jaw, the sharp breaths. she was always the more reserved of the two, preferring her actions to speak for her rather than voicing her opinions. but there was a difference between the coldness she typically expressed toward things she disliked and the hot rage you felt radiating off her now. “you shouldn't have been such an idiot on the skateboard,” shauna snapped, her words practically boiling as they escaped.

her words stung, but you couldn't argue with her. you'd been asking for it, constantly pushing yourself to do crazier and riskier tricks for no real reason other than pure fun and self-satisfaction. despite repeated warnings from both jackie and shauna to take it easy, wear protective gear, and be cautious, you had dismissed their concerns as mere anxiety and overprotectiveness.

“i'm sorry. i won't do that again,” you mumbled, wincing as the bumpiness of the road jarred against your already aching body.

shauna narrowed her eyes even further, her rage still simmering. “you're damn right you won't,” she muttered.

jackie interjected with a more composed tone. “hey, take it easy on her,” she said, her fingers curled around your arm. you noticed that jackie's grip was comforting, not constraining. “she didn't mean to fall,” she added, her gaze fixed on shauna. shauna turned her attention to jackie, shifting her focus away from you. “don't defend her. she's an idiot.”

“maybe,” jackie responded, holding shauna's gaze steadily. “but right now, our priority should be making sure she's okay.” shauna didn't retreat from the argument, her lips forming a pout. “don't act like this is the first time she’s put herself in danger with that stupid skateboard.”

shauna's piercing stare returned to you, still cold and scathing. "i said i was sorry," you whispered, trying to sound braver than you currently felt. the throbbing pain in your face served as a reminder that picking this fight might not have been the wisest decision.

“i know,” shauna said, her voice cold. “but i'm sick of worrying about you and your stupid skateboard.”

the words stung more than the road rash on your palms. tears welled up in your eyes, and you hastily blinked them away. you didn't know why, but her criticism felt so much harsher than it should have. perhaps it was because you were still reeling from the fall, or maybe it was simply the adrenaline wearing off. regardless, her comment landed with the force of a slap, leaving you feeling hurt and ashamed, like a child scolded for an innocent mistake.

jackie watched as you attempted to wipe away the tears stinging your eyes. "hey," she said, her tone softening. "she doesn't really mean it," she whispered. "she's just worried about you." shauna rolled her eyes at jackie's comforting words, finding them overly optimistic. shauna was always direct—if she had an issue, she would tell you, no sugarcoating necessary. you remained silent, your lip trembling slightly.

shauna's gaze softened a bit as she noticed the tears in your eyes, but instead of apologizing or offering comfort, she simply frowned. "are you crying?"

jackie, on the other hand, reached out to wipe your tears with her thumb. "don't be so harsh," she said quietly toward shauna. "stop it."

the echoes of your girlfriends' arguments reached your ears as you drifted in and out of consciousness during the car ride to the hospital. their heated whispers gradually transformed into a soothing murmur; it was shauna's gentle voice that finally lulled you into slumber.

when you next opened your eyes, you found yourself in a hospital bed, shauna and jackie standing by your side. a bright bulb dangled above, and the walls were painted in a calming shade of blue. before you had a chance to ask any questions, jackie turned to shauna and whispered something in her ear.

shauna nodded in response to jackie's words, taking a deep breath before turning her attention back to you. her expression softened as she gazed down at you, the earlier anger replaced by a more caring demeanor. she reached for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, a gesture of tenderness and affection. "how are you feeling?" she asked, her voice gentle yet concerned.

as the fog in your mind began to clear, you let out a soft groan. "my face hurts," you whispered, feeling sluggish and disoriented. shauna nodded slowly, her eyes reflecting worry. "yeah, you hit your head pretty hard," she replied, maintaining her gentle tone.

"the doctor says you'll be fine, but they want you to stay in for the night just in case," jackie added, eliciting a disapproving grunt from you. "are you thirsty?" she asked, a soft and caring look in her eyes.

you nodded faintly in response to jackie's question, sensing the dryness in your throat and mouth. "can you get me some water?" you mumbled, too tired to do so yourself. "of course, i'll be right back," jackie said, giving your forehead a sweet kiss before leaving the room. shauna stayed by your side, her eyes focused on you as her fingers gently combed through your hair.

“i didn't mean what i said back there," she said softly, her eyes reflecting remorse. "i was too harsh, i know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. she paused for a moment, studying your face.

"it's okay," you mumbled, though you weren't entirely convinced of that statement. perhaps she was right—you had been a complete idiot on the skateboard. maybe it was time to cut back, if not quit for a while. "sorry for worrying you," you continued, feeling guilty for the stress you had caused them.

shauna let out a soft laugh, her face softening further. "you don’t need to apologize, idiot." she paused, contemplating if she should add anything else. "you did nothing wrong. it was just a dumb accident," she emphasized, her voice comforting and reassuring. "besides, i was just mad because i was worried about you," she added, giving you a gentle smile. "just promise me you'll take it easy from now on," she urged, her eyes unwavering as she waited for your response. you nodded, letting out a breath of relief at her understanding. "i promise," you agreed.

as she continued to gently comb through your hair, you released a soft sigh, feeling the stress beginning to dissipate. her touch was soothing and reassuring, a stark contrast to the rough encounter with the pavement moments earlier. “you know i love you, right?” she said, her thumb gently rubbing the side of your face that remained intact.

"i know," you muttered softly, meeting shauna's eyes as you tried to ignore the stinging sensation in your face. shauna's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and she gave you a gentle smile. “you’re an idiot for trying something like that, but i love you anyway.” you laughed softly at her comment, despite the dull ache still lingering in your bones. “i love you too,” you replied softly.

shauna smiled at your response, her eyes glowing with genuine affection as she looked at your face. just as she was about to reply, you were hit with a sudden jolt of pain as the cut on your scalp began to throb. you cringed slightly, trying to regain your composure. despite attempting to mask your discomfort, it wasn’t enough to hide your ache. shauna noticed, her expression shifting to one of concern. “do you need anything?” she asked, her gaze locked on yours.

“a kiss?” you suggested with a giddy smile.

despite the lingering pain in your face, you couldn't help but smirk at shauna's flustered reaction. “come here," you jokingly commanded, motioning for her to come closer. shauna let out a soft giggle, her cheeks turning a delightful shade of pink.

she stepped closer to your bed, lowering her face to match yours. “you’re such a dork,” she teased with a gentle grin, her warm breath brushing against your skin. with a tender touch, she brushed a few stray strands of hair away from your damp face. without hesitation, she leaned in and pressed her lips against yours, her touch soft and caring, easing the ache. you savored the kiss, starting gently and gradually becoming more passionate as it continued. “mhm,” you murmured, feeling the pain melt away as your lips encountered hers.

shauna broke off the kiss, smiling widely. “are you sure you're feeling okay?” she asked, concern evident in her voice.

"yeah, i'm definitely feeling better," you replied playfully, your tone flirty yet lighthearted.

“i see my two lovebirds have made up,” jackie interrupted with a smile as she returned with a glass of water.

you gave jackie a cheeky smile as she placed the glass of water on the bedside table. “now drink up,” she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “yes, mom,” you mumbled playfully, leaning forward to take a sip of water. as the liquid soothed your parched throat, you felt some of the discomfort ease away. “feeling better?” jackie asked, leaning down to gently caress the side of your face that was unharmed.

“a little," you mumbled, offering her a smile, your voice still hoarse from the accident.

"good," jackie said with a soft smile, leaning in to give you a tender kiss on the lips, which you eagerly returned. you separated to let out a small yawn, the exhaustion from the day finally catching up to you. both jackie and shauna chuckled softly, finding your tiredness endearing.

"i'm sleepy," you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper as another yawn escaped you. jackie and shauna exchanged a knowing glance, their smiles widening in amusement. "of course you are," shauna said gently, moving a little closer to intertwine her fingers with yours. "you should get some rest," she suggested, her tone soothing and reassuring.

"as punishment for getting us worried sick, you'll have to endure being sandwiched between us in this small hospital bed all night, because we're staying," jackie declared with a playfully stern expression, prompting you to scoot over as she settled into the bed beside you. shauna followed suit, sliding her arm under your head so that you could rest comfortably against her neck. jackie shifted to her side, wrapping her arm around your waist and planting a sweet kiss on your shoulder.

"aw, is that so?" you mumbled, a smile on your face as you found yourself snug between the two of them in the cramped hospital bed, your head comfortably cradled in shauna's arm. the closeness felt reassuring, surrounded by their warmth and affection.

"we're not going anywhere until you're all healed up," jackie declared, her tone playful yet sincere as she leaned in closer, pulling you even tighter. the gentle pressure from their bodies provided a comforting sense of warmth, their mere presence enough to ease the ache in your battered limbs.

"is this supposed to be a punishment? because it feels more like a reward to me," you mumbled, releasing another soft yawn.

your girlfriends just rolled their eyes and chuckled softly, relieved to see you back to your usual self. the three of you remained in that cozy position throughout the night, simply enjoying each other's company.

[astrojulia]

Asteroid Tantalus (2102): Understanding Its Signs, Houses, and Planetary Aspects

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₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ About the Asteroid: Tantalus is a mythological figure. Once, daring to test the omniscience of the gods, he stole the divine delicacies and served them the flesh of his own son Pelops at a feast. As a punishment, he was cast into Tartarus, where, in a valley abundant in vegetation and water, he was sentenced to not being able to quench his hunger and thirst, since, when he approached the water, it drained and when he rose to gather the fruits of the trees , the branches moved out of reach under the force of the wind. The expression torment of Tantalus refers to the suffering of the one who wants something apparently close, however, unattainable, like the popular saying "So close and yet so far" - Wikipedia .

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Sources and inspirations: As I said, Tantalus is known for his eternal punishment for his unforgivable acts by the gods. As it is an asteroid, in a natal chart, I cannot see it as a great punishment for the individual, but more as something that, if done out of pure ego, will be severely punished. My sources were my astro mutual @a-d-nox. Also, the image template in from minikyuns on deviantart.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Asteroid Tantalus Rx: When this asteroid is in retrograde, the individual may turn their attention inward. They might reflect on the themes associated with Tartalus, such as power, authority, ego, and responsibility. This introspective phase can lead to a deeper understanding of how they've handled these themes in the past and how they wish to navigate them in the future.

Asteroid Tantalus in Signs

·˚ ꒰ Aries꒱This placement amplifies your desire for authority and leadership. You might be tempted to exploit your power or rush into decisions without considering their consequences. Your ambition and drive can sometimes border on egotism, making it essential to balance self-assurance with humility. You might also find that your impulsive actions hinder the attainment of your long-term goals, urging you to cultivate patience and strategic thinking. This placement encourages you to learn the art of measured action and to appreciate the journey rather than just the destination.

·˚ ꒰ Taurus꒱ There's a risk of overindulgence and an insatiable hunger for material possessions. This can lead to an inflated sense of self-worth and a tendency to disregard the needs of others. You may also struggle with authority figures and the misuse of power. Be cautious of impulsively reaching for possessions or financial gains without considering the long-term consequences. Recognizing when you're reaching for the unattainable can help you avoid unnecessary frustrations, leading to more stable and harmonious material pursuits.

·˚ ꒰ Gemini꒱ This placement might cause you to misuse your verbal prowess for personal gain . You may engage in superficial relationships to bolster your ego , while your impulsive words and actions can create misunderstandings. A lack of humility might make you resistant to feedback . The elusive nature of your goals could be due to scattered energy; focus on sustained efforts for true achievement. This placement challenges you to channel your intellect and communication skills for the greater good, avoiding the pitfalls of mental restlessness and thoughtless actions.

·˚ ꒰ Cancer꒱ You can manifest as emotional manipulation and a craving for control over others. You might struggle with humility when emotions cloud your judgment. This celestial influence can lead to a tendency to hoard emotional security and react impulsively to perceived threats . Be mindful of these tendencies to prevent your aspirations from constantly slipping away . This placement highlights the importance of understanding and nurturing your own emotions while maintaining healthy boundaries with others.

·˚ ꒰ Leo꒱ There's a heightened need for admiration and recognition . You might misuse your charisma and influence for self-serving purposes and overlook the feelings of those around you. Be cautious of impulsively seeking the spotlight , as this can hinder your larger goals . Cultivate humility to sustain your genuine connections and avoid overstepping boundaries. This placement encourages you to find the balance between your desire for self-expression and the needs of your community.

·˚ ꒰ Virgo꒱ This can lead to perfectionism and the tendency to micromanage others . While you strive for improvement, be wary of becoming overly critical and impulsive in your quest for flawlessness . Your humility might be challenged by the belief that you know best. Balancing realistic goals with a compassionate approach can mitigate the frustration of pursuits just out of reach . This placement encourages you to harness your analytical abilities for the greater good, emphasizing the importance of self-acceptance and understanding human imperfections.

·˚ ꒰ Libra꒱ This may manifest as a desire to manipulate situations to maintain “harmony” . You might struggle with making decisions that prioritize your own needs and act impulsively to keep others content . Developing humility could help you find genuine equilibrium in your relationships. Balancing your pursuit of fairness with practicality can prevent elusive goals from slipping away . This placement encourages you to explore the delicate balance between your personal desires and the needs of those around you, fostering true harmony through understanding.

·˚ ꒰ Scorpio꒱ This can intensify power struggles and manipulative tendencies . You might wrestle with a desire for control and secrecy. Beware of a sense of entitlement and ego-driven actions that can damage your relationships. Be mindful of impulsively pursuing intense emotions without considering their consequences. Temper your impulses with thoughtful consideration, and develop humility to avoid the pitfalls of ambition. Your pursuit of transformational goals will require patience and strategic planning. This placement challenges you to harness your intensity for profound change while maintaining ethical integrity.

·˚ ꒰ Sagittarius꒱ There's a risk of recklessness and impulsive decision-making . You might struggle to recognize boundaries when pursuing your adventurous endeavors. The quest for freedom might sometimes lead to egotistical behaviors that hinder your connections. Cultivating humility will be vital in learning from your experiences. Your pursuit of expansive goals can be fulfilling if grounded in realistic planning. This placement encourages you to explore the world with a sense of wonder while understanding the importance of measured exploration.

·˚ ꒰ Capricorn꒱ This can magnify your ambitions and drive for success . However, an excessive focus on power and authority might lead to arrogance and exploiting others for your gain. Be cautious of impulsive shortcuts that disregard ethical conduct. Embracing humility can help you maintain your position without losing sight of your values. Your enduring pursuit of goals will require careful planning and ethical decision-making. This placement challenges you to navigate the path to success with integrity, understanding that true power is rooted in responsibility.

·˚ ꒰ Aquarius꒱ This might lead to a desire for unconventional power and recognition. Your innovative ideas can sometimes lead to an inflated sense of uniqueness . Be cautious of impulsive actions that disregard the needs of the collective. Cultivating humility will help you foster genuine connections. Balancing your visionary pursuits with practical considerations can help you bridge the gap between your aspirations and reality . This placement encourages you to channel your creativity and forward-thinking ideas for the betterment of society while maintaining a sense of grounded humility.

·˚ ꒰ Pisces꒱This may lead to idealism and a desire for spiritual mastery . Be cautious of escapism and addiction as ways to cope with challenges. The pursuit of transcendence can sometimes lead to a lack of humility , creating barriers in your relationships. Strive for self-awareness to avoid being blinded by your own spiritual pursuits. Balancing your dreams with grounded actions will be key to achieving your goals. This placement encourages you to explore the depths of your intuition and spirituality while staying grounded in the practical aspects of life, fostering true spiritual growth through humility and self-awareness.

Asteroid Tantalus in Houses

·˚ ꒰ 1st house꒱ Can manifest as a strong desire for personal recognition and leadership. You may grapple with issues of authority and power in your life, striving to be in control. This could lead to egotism and a tendency to overstep boundaries . Your impulsive actions may be directed toward asserting your identity. Learning humility is crucial here to maintain healthy relationships and avoid isolation. The sense that your goals are just out of reach could drive you to constantly reinvent yourself.

·˚ ꒰ 2nd house꒱ There may be a strong desire for material wealth and possessions. You might be tempted to misuse your resources or engage in impulsive financial decisions. Guard against an inflated sense of self-worth based on your possessions. Cultivating humility in your approach to wealth is essential for sustainable financial growth. The feeling that financial stability is always slightly out of reach could motivate you to develop a solid financial strategy.

·˚ ꒰ 3rd house꒱ Can manifest as a desire for recognition through communication. You might misuse your words and manipulate situations for personal gain . Be cautious of an inflated sense of intellectual superiority that could hinder your relationships. Impulsive communication might lead to misunderstandings. Cultivating humility in your interactions can help you build more meaningful connections. The feeling that true understanding is just out of reach could drive you to explore deeper levels of knowledge.

·˚ ꒰ 4th house꒱ You might grapple with issues of control and power dynamics within your family . There's a risk of egotism and a need to dominate in your domestic sphere . Impulsive actions may disrupt family harmony. Cultivating humility is vital for maintaining a nurturing home environment. The sense that emotional fulfillment is just out of reach could motivate you to create a more balanced and harmonious family life.

·˚ ꒰ 5th house꒱ Can lead to a strong desire for recognition in creative endeavors and romantic pursuits. You might be tempted to misuse your creative talents or seek attention through dramatic gestures . Guard against an inflated ego that could hinder authentic self-expression. Cultivating humility in your creative and romantic interactions is essential for genuine connections. The feeling that true love and creative fulfillment are just out of reach could inspire you to seek more authentic expressions of self.

·˚ ꒰ 6th house꒱This may manifest as a desire for recognition through service and work. You might grapple with power struggles in your workplace or be tempted to assert your authority excessively . Impulsive actions could affect your daily routines and health. Cultivating humility in your service-oriented efforts can lead to more harmonious relationships with colleagues. The sense that a balanced and healthy life is just out of reach could drive you to develop a more sustainable approach to wellness and work.

·˚ ꒰ 7th house꒱ You may grapple with power dynamics and control in your relationships . There's a risk of egotism and a need to dominate your partnerships . Impulsive actions might lead to conflicts with others. Cultivating humility in your interactions with partners is essential for harmonious relationships. The feeling that true partnership and balance are just out of reach could motivate you to develop healthier and more equitable connections.

·˚ ꒰ 8th house꒱ Can manifest as a desire for control over shared resources and deep transformations . You might be tempted to misuse your power within joint ventures or financial matters . Be cautious of an inflated sense of importance or secrecy that could hinder emotional intimacy. Impulsive actions in shared matters might lead to conflicts. Cultivating humility is essential for navigating the complexities of shared resources. The feeling that true transformation and deep connections are just out of reach could drive you to explore the depths of your psyche more consciously.

·˚ ꒰ 9th house꒱There may be a strong desire for recognition through higher knowledge and exploration . You might be tempted to misuse your intellectual pursuits or beliefs . Guard against an inflated sense of wisdom or cultural superiority that could hinder your ability to connect with diverse perspectives. Impulsive actions related to travel or education might lead to misunderstandings. Cultivating humility in your quest for knowledge is essential for authentic growth. The sense that true enlightenment and expansive experiences are just out of reach could inspire you to explore a more balanced approach to learning and expansion.

·˚ ꒰ 10th house꒱Can lead to a strong desire for recognition and power in your career . You might grapple with authority figures or misuse your authority . There's a risk of egotism and a need to dominate your professional sphere . Impulsive actions related to your career could have consequences. Cultivating humility in your professional interactions is essential for lasting success. The feeling that true recognition and accomplishment are just out of reach could motivate you to develop a more authentic and ethical approach to your public life.

·˚ ꒰ 11th house꒱May manifest as a desire for recognition and power within your social circles . You might be tempted to misuse your influence or manipulate group dynamics . Be cautious of an inflated sense of importance in your social networks that could hinder genuine connections. Impulsive actions related to friendships might lead to misunderstandings. Cultivating humility in your interactions with friends and communities is essential for building lasting bonds. The sense that true collective change and friendship are just out of reach could motivate you to seek more meaningful connections.

·˚ ꒰ 12th house꒱ There may be a strong desire for recognition and power in your spiritual pursuits and inner world . You might grapple with issues of control within your subconscious . Guard against an inflated ego or spiritual superiority that could hinder your spiritual growth. Impulsive actions related to your inner world might lead to inner conflicts. Cultivating humility in your spiritual practices is essential for authentic spiritual progress. The feeling that true enlightenment and connection with your inner self are just out of reach could motivate you to embark on a more profound spiritual journey.

Asteroid Tantalus Aspecting the Planets

·˚ ꒰ Sun꒱When Asteroid Tartalus forms an easy aspect, such as a trine or sextile, with the Sun, it can indicate that the individual has a natural ability to balance power and authority with a sense of humility . They are often able to recognize their own strengths and weaknesses without inflating their ego . This aspect may bring a harmonious integration of their desires for recognition and their ability to wield power responsibly. When Asteroid Tartalus forms a hard aspect, such as a square or opposition, with the Sun, it can signal a more challenging dynamic between the desire for power and the need for humility . These individuals may struggle to balance their ambitions with an inflated ego , leading to power struggles and conflicts in their lives.

·˚ ꒰ Moon꒱ When Asteroid Tartalus forms an easy aspect, such as a trine or sextile, with the Moon, it can indicate that the individual has a natural ability to balance their emotional needs and desires with their power and authority . They are often able to recognize their emotional strengths and vulnerabilities without inflating their ego . This aspect may bring a harmonious integration of their emotional nature and their ability to wield power responsibly. When Asteroid Tartalus forms a hard aspect, such as a square or opposition, with the Moon, it can signal a more challenging dynamic between their emotional needs and their desire for power . These individuals may struggle to balance their emotional vulnerabilities with an inflated ego , leading to emotional conflicts and inner turmoil.

·˚ ꒰ Mercury꒱ When Asteroid Tartalus forms an easy aspect, such as a trine or sextile, with Mercury, it can indicate that the individual has a natural ability to balance their communication style, thinking processes, and intellectual pursuits with their power and authority . They are often able to communicate their ideas and thoughts effectively without inflating their ego . This aspect may bring a harmonious integration of their mental acumen and their ability to wield power responsibly. When Asteroid Tartalus forms a hard aspect, such as a square or opposition, with Mercury, it can signal a more challenging dynamic between their communication style, thinking processes, and intellectual pursuits and their desire for power . These individuals may struggle to balance their intellectual strengths with an inflated ego , leading to conflicts in communication and decision-making.

·˚ ꒰ Venus꒱When Asteroid Tartalus forms an easy aspect, such as a trine or sextile, with Venus, it can indicate that the individual has a natural ability to balance their love life, relationships, values, and aesthetics with their power and authority . They are often able to express love and affection without inflating their ego . This aspect may bring a harmonious integration of their emotional well-being and their ability to wield power responsibly. When Asteroid Tartalus forms a hard aspect, such as a square or opposition, with Venus, it can signal a more challenging dynamic between their love life, relationships, values, aesthetics , and their desire for power . These individuals may struggle to balance their desire for beauty, love, and harmony with an inflated ego , leading to conflicts in relationships and matters of the heart.

·˚ ꒰ Mars꒱ When Asteroid Tartalus forms an easy aspect, such as a trine or sextile, with Mars, it can indicate that the individual has a natural ability to balance their assertiveness, energy, desires, and actions with their power and authority . They are often able to assert themselves and take action without inflating their ego . This aspect may bring a harmonious integration of their drive and their ability to wield power responsibly. When Asteroid Tartalus forms a hard aspect, such as a square or opposition, with Mars, it can signal a more challenging dynamic between their assertiveness, energy, desires, and actions and their desire for power . These individuals may struggle to balance their ambition and assertiveness with an inflated ego , leading to power struggles, conflicts, or impulsivity.

·˚ ꒰ Jupiter꒱When Asteroid Tartalus forms an easy aspect, such as a trine or sextile, with Jupiter, it can indicate that the individual has a natural ability to balance their expansion, growth, optimism, and abundance with their power and authority . They are often able to pursue their goals and dreams without inflating their ego . This aspect may bring a harmonious integration of their expansive tendencies and their ability to wield power responsibly. When Asteroid Tartalus forms a hard aspect, such as a square or opposition, with Jupiter, it can signal a more challenging dynamic between their expansive tendencies, optimism, and abundance and their desire for power . These individuals may struggle to balance their enthusiasm and growth with an inflated ego , leading to conflicts, overindulgence, or impulsivity.

·˚ ꒰ Saturn꒱ When Asteroid Tartalus forms an easy aspect, such as a trine or sextile, with Saturn, it can indicate that the individual has a natural ability to balance their discipline, responsibility, structure, and long-term goals with their power and authority . They are often able to establish authority and achieve their ambitions without inflating their ego . This aspect may bring a harmonious integration of their disciplined nature and their ability to wield power responsibly. When Asteroid Tartalus forms a hard aspect, such as a square or opposition, with Saturn, it can signal a more challenging dynamic between their discipline, responsibility, structure, and long-term goals and their desire for power . These individuals may struggle to balance their ambition and authority with an inflated ego , leading to conflicts, rigidity, or impulsivity.

·˚ ꒰ Uranus꒱ When Asteroid Tartalus forms an easy aspect, such as a trine or sextile, with Uranus, it can indicate that the individual has a natural ability to balance their innovation, uniqueness, independence, and unconventional thinking with their power and authority . They are often able to embrace change and unique perspectives without inflating their ego . This aspect may bring a harmonious integration of their innovative spirit and their ability to wield power responsibly. When Asteroid Tartalus forms a hard aspect, such as a square or opposition, with Uranus, it can signal a more challenging dynamic between their innovative thinking, independence, and unconventional nature and their desire for power . These individuals may struggle to balance their urge for change and uniqueness with an inflated ego , leading to conflicts, rebelliousness, or impulsivity.

·˚ ꒰ Neptune꒱ When Asteroid Tartalus forms an easy aspect, such as a trine or sextile, with Neptune, it can indicate that the individual has a natural ability to balance their imagination, intuition, spirituality, and creativity with their power and authority . They are often able to embrace their inner world and spiritual side without inflating their ego . This aspect may bring a harmonious integration of their spiritual and creative nature and their ability to wield power responsibly. When Asteroid Tartalus forms a hard aspect, such as a square or opposition, with Neptune, it can signal a more challenging dynamic between their spiritual, creative, and intuitive nature and their desire for power . These individuals may struggle to balance their connection to the mystical and imaginative realms with an inflated ego , leading to conflicts, illusions, or impulsivity.

·˚ ꒰ Pluto꒱When Asteroid Tartalus forms an easy aspect, such as a trine or sextile, with Pluto, it can indicate that the individual has a natural ability to balance their transformation, power, intensity, and depth with their power and authority . They are often able to undergo profound personal changes and harness their inner strength without inflating their ego . This aspect may bring a harmonious integration of their transformative and intense nature and their ability to wield power responsibly. When Asteroid Tartalus forms a hard aspect, such as a square or opposition, with Pluto, it can signal a more challenging dynamic between their transformative, intense, and deep nature and their desire for power . These individuals may struggle to balance their drive for personal transformation and intensity with an inflated ego , leading to conflicts, power struggles, or impulsivity.

(CC) AstroJulia Some Rights Reserved

[sentypurr]

Hey I hope this isn’t rude but I’m trying to improve my art and you’ve been a major inspiration to me but I can’t quite get things right, if it’s alright may I ask for some advice/tips to improve? (PS: your work is really beautiful)

I'm extremely flattered you like my work so much!! It means a lot, and I am happy to hear you're learning to draw as well!

Is there anything in particular you'd like tips with? If so, let me know Otherwise I can mostly give you some general tips:

Draw a lot! Drawing imperfectly constantly is going to be a lot better for your progress than lingering on one drawing for a long time.

ALWAYS USE REFERENCES! You will learn nothing from trying to draw off your mind alone. As I like to say, you can't make fire without tinder! It might feel cool to be able to draw something off the cuff, but that won't teach you anything. Always have something on the side to study as you draw- IRL pictures are the best guides but artists you enjoy can be insightful too.

Morale is a big deal as an artist! Don't be discouraged if you feel like your art isn't meeting your expectations. While it's key to be ask yourself how you can keep growing as an artist, if you never pause to appreciate how much you've learned and how far you've come, you'll end up completely ruining your motivation. It's already a big deal to be able to put thought to paper, so the journey is a long one...

And a very personal one! Don't compare yourself to others regardless of age or level; You don't know what they've been through to get where they are, but it's most definitely not the same as you. Give yourself the time you need, and know that everyone has their strengths and weaknesses!

[circuscountdowns]

Crude Timeline/Breakdown of my goofy Cult of the Lamb drawings if you’re interested:

The whole premise for this i guess au? Started during my first run, I already knew the game was about kill god become god, but Did Not know you could Marry the god youd betray??? Or indoctrinate him???. Like I didn't even choose the Marriage Doctrine cuz I'm like boo r u kidding me I'm choosing violent Battle Pit always. Which Lambert wouldn't know any of this in the beginning either but the big deciding factor is: 

Lamb is going into it with the mindset of Kill All Gods for what they've done to the sheep (sorry my benefactor, ur included <3) Kratos style lets go, none spared.

That being said, they have a lot of devotion towards Death, I like to think the Sheep folk prayed to The One Below for quick passings knowing they're a huge sacrificial species, and because sheep with their huge herd mentality, the worship flowed heavily which is a threat therefore that plus prophecy equals Slaughter. 

So with TOWW, they play along and genuinely mean they're serving death because they worshiped Death as a concept, a divine entity. They believe when they “kill” TOWW they'll still be “together” because Death is unkillable right (and the lamb would never have to be alone again right). Something new will be written thats the both of us as one.

So in between crusading Lamb and TOWW get closer (i am going to take your throne but that doesn't mean we can't have fun banter or that i don't really really enjoy ur compliments and attention ((because I love kittys…))) and that's when the comic about tanking happens. 

But oh no! Through their journey Lamb discovers that TOWW is actually a Bishop, chained for a petty family squabble??? Has a name and it’s Narinder???? 

The revelation kinda breaks something in their head. it upsettingly humanizes the Bishops, trivializes the death of their people, and takes TOWW off the pedestal they'd placed him on. Uh ohhhh how does this change things i mean I'm still gonna kill all the gods but what does it mean to be a god is it just a crown whats going to happen to Narinder is it actually Narinder I like ?? (And i had a comic for this time planned but idk if ill get to it)

Meanwhile Narinders opinion on the Lamb has so far just been Wow im so proud, I chose good yay I'm gonna be free (why do I feel like I could be free from their devotion alone?) (why are they just like me fr?) 

When Narinder is defeated and they have the choice, the lamb feels they betray both their people for not keeping their promise to kill all gods, but also their Faith and Narinder, v conflicting. 

After indoctrination, Narinder does his typical Isolation, depression, and Lamb mourns what they'd had. In their loneliness, they stop allowing their cultists to die for long. They do all Narinders quests, and when it comes to the resurrection he's like Haha I remember why I liked you. But also he can exploit this. That's the time of the Resurrection comic.

He tries to micromanage from there, if he can't be the god being worshiped rn he's going to control the god. Starts off with whispering insecurities of Your cultists will find a way to leave you, be firmer. Gods should do this, have this, they'll leave if you don't. Lamb knows what he's doing and mostly humors him to keep him around but over time they've just both started to build a proper relationship again. He successfully ironically becomes their right hand.

This goes on for a sec before Mystic Seller knocks on da door like Hello do your joobbbb. And thats a kick enough to get Lamb out of their misery shit to really consider their original plan of killing gods and what exactly they want Death to Mean. (Comes to a conclusion that death is a peace that has to be earned. Through living.)

Bringing Leshy back brings a rift and arguments between Narinder and Lamb. That's when the Narinder Confessional comic happens and he lets out just how hurt he was by Lambs betrayal (cuz that seems to be all anyone ever does to him lol except for his sons)

So as a sort of reconciliation! Lamb brings back Aym and Baal. Yay! That's that comic, where Narinder tries to say it doesn't affect him so Lamb forces them to be together. Aym and Ball stay in the cult for a good while as Lamb works to free Heket, but Narinder is still super giving Lamb the cold shoulder. When Heket is indoctrinated Narinder gets angry again that he has no say on the matter. 

Lamb starts sneaking off to sit in the confessional booth at night and it gets Narinders attention. He follows them in and hears them speak about essentially their motivations and beliefs described earlier. I have a half finished comic of this to partner with Narinder’s confessional, with Lamb’s being more down to earth and kinda just explanatory of the whole timeline but who knows if ill finish it tbh

Narinder reassesses his feelings for Lamb after that.

Right after Lamb's confessional would be when the Baal and AYm comic happens, and Narinder asks for his last request of going on a mission, fully committing to living a life.

Cue big ambiguous gap of time where Lamb gets the other siblings, yada yada healing and dealing. Shamura in the pillory comic happens, the bishops are Not happy about it, but Shamura's only locked up for a night.

Probably takes a hundred or two years for the siblings being comfortable enough around each other and theres a lot less venom being spat out. Idk gods grudges be lasting forever sometimes. Eventually They can start having family game nights, cue that comic. Everyones tired of the shit Lamb and Narinders got going on. 

Lamb still thinks Narinder doesnt have romantic feelings for them. Best friends til the end me and my god, never mind the tense flirting. Lamb does that with everyone. (cursed with flirty asexual disease) For Narinder its that he shouldnt have to say anything everyone should just know that the Lamb is his. Straight up if Lamb asked him, do you love me hed say yes in every sense, but though he is aware of how he feels and would be honest on approach, an immortal relationship/marriage?? It is a lot to ask of the lamb, that has to be a decision they make. Hes content as is.

but No Way could Lamb ask that without a safety net.  So when Lamb realizes Oh its like. romantic jealousy? Interesting lets see how far i can push it, announces they will be choosing a spouse (due to a wager lost they reason, depending on who asks) (the siblings who know of Shamura’s deal, watch in mild amusement at how absolutely wired this gets their brother. No one helps him.) fine for narinder If they get married thats up to them but hes gonna make sure theyre worthy of his vessel first. Marriage is just a title compared to what he and the Lamb have. 

Cue comic i have planned that is Such a funny idea to me but im not liking how its turning out so who knows. But they get married yay! 

Some years later kudaai has offered to make the lamb their own weapon. They go on a little trip to the spot they were sacrificed, now very overgrown and forgotten, and find their chains to make their weapons. 

far future comic

many many many years later Lamb death comic.

that’s it for now. I’ll add more if ideas come but this is context if you’d like. Feel free to ask questions, I’m rotating these fellas in my head

[cosmetichorror]

Okay so I’ve hit a mini writers block, so I was scrolling through my drafts for inspo and found this masterpiece.

I’ve never seen the post this oneshot was inspired off of in person, but I’ve seen screenshots, so it’s based off of this

Hope you know I was laughing the whole time I was writing this

—

"THIS IS THE WORST HYRULE WE'VE BEEN IN!" Wind exclaims, startling everyone out of their thoughts.

They're in a new hyrule, and they know there's a Link somewhere. It's like a fucked up game of hide and seek, or where's Waldo. But the longer you take to seek out Waldo the longer all of your Hyrules are in danger. And the worst part? There isn't a village ANYWHERE!

"Don't be rude, Wind." Time scolds, glaring at the teen.

Legend shakes his head "No, no. He has a point." He looks around "While this place is pretty, we're low on supplies and there's not a village in sight." He points out. Wars nods along to this.

"We're on a path, there's got to be one near." Four speaks up, arms crossed.

Despite this, they continued to walk for hours.

The orange sun has begin to set, casting a shadow on hyrule as the moon begins to rise, but Hylia has apparently taken mercy upon them, because distantly they see what appears to be a village. Many sighs of relief and mummers of thanks to the gods are sent, and the chain has a new pep in their step.

It’s a quaint village, with a nice dirt road and cute little houses, alongside what appears to be some statues in the center of all of it. They agree to start at the center where the statues are, and make their way around gathering supplies and finding an inn- if there even is one, that is.

But as they walk closer to the statues, they begin to take a familiar shape. But soon enough, they see exactly why that is.

"Is that.." Time stares in awe. Jaws are dropped, eyes are bulging, and all sense of frustration from the long journey is swept away by pure bewilderment.

There in the middle of the town stood several statues, nine of them to be exact. Eight of them were shockingly familiar, though the tallest one was a stranger to them, we'll focus on that one after.

There was a statue of each of them. Time, Twilight, Legend, Warriors, Hyrule, Four, and Sky. The details aren't exactly accurate, their faces don't match very well but the clothes are very accurate much to their surprise. They know they've been reduced to fairytales across many time periods, but never have they had statues built for them.

"What. The fuck?" Legend manages to make out.

Time doesn't even censor him. He's far too flabbergasted to even bother.

"That can't be us, can it?" Sky mumbles out, walking up and running a hand along his statue. It's high quality metal, but despite that it shows age. These must have been here for ages.

An elderly lady that sits in a chair not far from the statues watches them, her aged eyes never leaving them. They can understand why, not every day you see a group of such well versed warriors after all.

She watches them carefully, and the group notices. They exchange strange glances but other then that stay relatively in their conversation about what these statues could mean, although they've quieted down.

Then, the old lady gasps, and she shakily runs as quickly as she can up to the chain.

"You are the hero's of old!" She cries out, and Sky sputters. "I- well, uh- maybe??” He knows there's no point in trying to hide it when there are literals statues built of them, albeit not completely accurate.

"They have returned to us! What foe have you come to defeat, old great ones!" The elderly lady cries out, tears beginning to form in her eyes. "I have heard tales of you from my mother and grandmother! I never imagined I would have the honors of meeting you, oh great heros!" She exclaims, falling to her knees in front of them.

People begin to gather around, walking out of their houses to see if it really was true. Kids hide behind their parents legs, mothers and fathers weep in joy, people bow their head in respect to them. Meanwhile, most of the chain had never been so uncomfortable in their entire lives.

"Uhm, hi?" Time greets, waving a hand. "You uh, you don't need to bow to us, ma'am." He speaks, helping the elderly lady up off the ground.

"You built STATUES for us?!" Wind exclaims, practically bouncing on his heels. "Hah, wait till I tell Tetra about this!" He smiles, nudging Wars.

News has quickly spread through the village, and people have started running out of their houses offering food and gifts. Apples upon apples, pots upon pots- how did they know they like pots??

"Of course we built statues! How else would we send our thanks to you for your heroism!" A women in the crowd calls out, and several mummers of agreement are heard.

"They must be here to bless us and this land!"

"No, they're here to take our offerings and answer our prayers!"

"They're here to gift us with their wisdom and courage!"

"Perhaps they're here to bless our dearest hero and savior?"

They chain pause at that last bit.

"Dearest hero and savior you say?" Wars hums, before nodding. "Yes, we're here for... the last one. We must meet with the hero of this time." He speaks, looking around at the chain, who nod along to him.

"Yes. That is correct, where is he?" Four asks.

The crowd laughs a little bit, nudging each other and mummering.

"Oh, great old ones! Locating the hero is nearly impossible! He never stays in one place for too long, such is the ways of the hero!" A father calls out, cradling his newborn in his arms.

"I'm sure if you just wait, he will stop by. Our dearest hero is always so smart, he always seems to know exactly when people need his aid!" The elderly women speaks, patting Fours head, who sends the elderly women the harshest glare he can muster.

The father that was speaking just a second ago walks up, and holds his baby out to Sky. "Would you please bless my daughter, oh great and wise hero of Skies? I wish her to prosper in life!" He begs. And just like that, the crowd stirs wildly.

"Wait, please, bless my mother for good health, oh hero of Hyrule!"

"Hero of the Four sword, would you bless my weapons for strength!"

"Oh great hero of Time, please, bless my grandfather with more time on this earth!"

"Hero of the Wind, please come bless my boat!"

"Bless our fighters, strong hero of Wars!"

"Hey! Listen! Please bless my farm for good crops and livestock, hero of Twilight!"

"Hero of Legends! Please bless my son for safe travels, won't you?"

As if things couldn't get and weirder, they just did.

"You want us to... bless you?" Wind mumbles, thoroughly confused.

The chain look between themselves, no one quite sure what to say. What does one say when they're quite literally being worshiped? No amount of monster fighting, god slaying, hyrule saving experience prepared them for this.

"Of course! Why else would you be here?" A young teen calls out.

Time takes this opportunity to get a little closer to their goal. "Well, we're hunting strangely strong monsters that bleed black. You wouldn't happen to know of any of these, would you?"

A man in the crowd calls out "Some monsters have been more bold lately!" And several mummers of agreement are heard.

A women wielding a pitchfork lazily in one hand speaks up next. “I fought one of them monsters just a few days ago, and it bled black! Just like you said!”

“Please, this is why we need your blessings!” A young women cries, and the entire crowd seems to agree.

Sky looks to Time, who looks to Wars who in turn looks to Legend, who turns to Hyrule who nudges Four, who looks at Wind who then turns to Twilight, who shrugs.

“Uhm… I, uh… Guess we have some time to kill? Might as well?” Sky says, more of a question then a statement. Time looks around, and nods.

“Okay.. Uh, we’ll bless you.” He decides. The crowd cheers, and people run up with babies in hand, shoving them out for the hero’s to take. Wind happily took the strangers babies, he was used to holding little ones after all. He somehow had three babies at once. Time had two. Legend held the infant he had in front of him, not quite sure what to do with it. Four had a toddler, Twilight had… four babies? Are they not concerned about him dropping them? Erm, anyways… Hyrule held one baby, and stared at it all wide eyed as if it was a bomb that would go off at any moment. I mean, that is sort of how babies work. Wars had two toddlers propped up on his shoulders, and one of which had his scarf in its mouth. Wars could do nothing about this. Sky held a six year olds hand, and the six year old stared up at him all wide eyed.

But now came the real question. How exactly do they bless these kids? Wind decided he would be the one to set up how to bless people. He stood out in front of everyone else and made sure they were watching. He simply kissed the babies foreheads, mumbled something under his breath and then walked back up to the babies mother. “Consider your kids blessed!” The mother gratefully takes back the kids with tears in her eyes. “Oh thank you, wise hero of the Winds!”

The rest of the chain looks at each other, and shrugs, deciding to follow in Winds footsteps. Baby forehead after baby forehead was kissed, then they had to move onto the teens, which was pretty awkward considering half of them are teenagers as well. After that, they had to bless weapons, and houses and boats and even animals. In short, a lot of things were kissed that day. And yet, still no sign of the hero of this land.

Thankfully, they were offered a free stay at the inn, but they were still frustrated.

Morning came early the next day. Children played about in the streets, farmers tended to their crops, but most importantly someone stood beside their bedsides. He was a blond teen with nasty scaring on half of his face, he was missing an ear and had long blond hair, he bore a vibrant blue tunic and a cape with a hood. He looks at the chain, then peers out the window to the statues, then back at the chain. And the chain immediately realizes this is the hero they’re looking for. Mainly because the tallest statue look exactly like him.

“You’re Link, right?” Sky sits up. The new hero nods, looking back at the statues again in pure bewilderment.

“And you’re… the hero’s of old?” He clarifies. Wind nods.

“That’s us!” The teen responds.

“Soo…” the new hero starts. “They gave you the worshipping treatment too?”

[slowlysoluminary]

Still working on that chapter. Don't worry, it's coming along! Yesterday i was trapped at a party for 10 hours and, being the introvert i am, decided to take a break from drawing for an animatic by trying to draw for this au instead. don't know why i didn't just do artfight lol

FULL KING REFERENCE PACK + SIFFRIN DUO POSTGAME REFERENCES

Notes and details under the cut

sooooo howsabout postgame content?

the original post talking about postgame can be found here but it doesn't go into too much detail

So post-game resetfrin and gloop. they go with the party, kinda like a lot of twohats aus? resetfrin goes with the party because they know mirabelle and kinda know isabeau from when he would get apprenticed by the king (long story), but also because resetfrin acted so much like the old siffrin they used to know that it felt odd to leave him behind.

gloop, however, WAS the old siffrin! the party knows this, they found it out in the last loop, and they've formed such a bond with them that it's as natural as it is in the original game. the only issue is: gloop has changed SO much. physically, mentally, even a pronoun change - the party wants to help her out, but they want to explore who this New Siffrin is, too. Isn't it ironic that the new addition is the one you know far more of than the old addition?

resetfrin stays siffrin because... uh. because he's always been siffrin? there's no conflict there. gloop, after getting their memory back, ALSO goes back to siffrin, because that's who they really are and they acknowledge that loop is their own person. they don't want to be reminded of their time as gloop, either.

so... they're both Siffrin. And they're both technically the same person. do you see the issue?? the two of them didn't. the party did.

there's a comic I'm thinking about making to explore the processes and conversation that happened to initiate the name changes. the long and short of it is they can't BOTH be siffrin, but neither of them want to be siffrin if the other one can't also be siffrin, so they go on separate journeys to find a new name. they come back together with the party afterwords and they both ended up picking the same name so it's back to square one.

they talk to the party the second time and after a lot of brainstorming land on Orion for resetfrin and Lux for gloop. it helps the party distinguish between them and helps me establish the difference between postgame content and in-game content

(plug moment but these names were suggested by @the-bitter-ocean who gave me like. a whole list of things i could choose from. oh the life saver. i didn't even think about what names they would've picked until xe helped. and ohhh theyre so good. he also has some amazing aus including a miraloops au that you should go check out. pretty please)

the hair thing is SUPER IMPORTANT i originally only did it because they needed a way to separate themselves from eachother, but i realized they would also have done it to separate themselves from the old people they used to be. very poetic. 10/10 thank you brain for the excuse

the colors for orion's alt outfits are just a limited color pallete, they're not actually the colors afaik. (<- says the creator) but Lux's colors are 100% the colors, yes. their star body is different from loop's, where loop's body is solid black and lux's seems to glow on it's own. do you see where the name lux came from.

it's really dysphoric. imagine being turned into a ghost against your will and losing your memories, and them after gaining your memories back you turn into a completely different body AGAIN and it's STILL not the original body you had. i would cry.

gloop/lux's eye is still blind. even as a ghost they lacked depth perception. L. since resetfrin wasn't with the party to lose his eye they don't have any vision impairment

actually, about that. funny little thing. if siffrin wasn't there to protect bonnie, who did? haha hehe. hey why does odile have her arm in a cast...

KING TIME

okay i got a lot of questions about it so i double-checked on the original post and. yeah it DOES say the king's name. both in the text and on the image. but you'd be forgiven for missing it because it's pretty small on the image and there's a lot of text to read through

anyway pre-madness king's name is Lazare!! he originally looks like the lithe dude on the left. he's scholar-ish, came to vaugarde on vacation before losing his memory, yadda yadda... a lot of his information is on the original post so I won't repeat anything that's already been said

he picked Lazare a few days after losing his memory. he never told his name to anyone in the town he was staying so all he got was "travelling one" and he really genuinely thought that was his name for a hot second until he realized that Vaugarde really likes adding -one to titles

i made his hair curlier! after drawing the king for the chapter cg i realized i did NOT makw his hair curly enough when drawing Lazare. his hair type is almost exactly mine, though mine has more define curls, so drawing it is a BLAST!!

Defender arc Lazare! He bulked himself up to come off more physically and mentally strong. is this a trans allegory? is the King trans or was the body craft just to match his perception of himself? not sure. At this point in time he's already travelled with siffrin for a bit so i like to think he's a teensy bit protective. somewhere between friend snd father figure. cool guy

you know who's not cool? this guy vvv

this is where the King becomes the King :3 his hair is OBNOXIOUSLY long, almost rapunzel-like but nowhere near as bad. it always covers one eye but it doesn't really matter which one.

the crown happens like... VERY shortly before he makes the wish and starts freezing people in time. hes lonely and isolated and its something like coping with his delusions about everyone being out to get him

that's not the way he thought in the original loop, but after the reset his descent is much faster and harder than the last. when Siffrin starts climbing the tower, yearning becomes animosity as he thinks Siffrin finally betrayed him like he "always knew they would." or something.

hey 16yo sif jumpscare!!! wasn't he on the original post too?

.

anyway!!! that's it! that's all! i swear it's all. inevitably I'll have to make gloop and resetfrin full references but I'm happy with the ones i drew in the original post which I'll probably end up pointing people to if they want to draw either of them. the king was the one i worried about most because he's so different from canon, and same goes for the postgame designs. even coming up with new names was worrying because they're practically not even the same person from canon anymore

but that's the fun thing with aus, isn't it? lol

cya

[finniestoncrane]

Pornstar!Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, multi-part au fic cooper howard is a former actor, novice pornstar, and current wasteland escort. reader mistakes him for a bounty hunter and ends up getting far more entwined in his lifestyle than they intended in a bid to get what they need from the first 'kind' person they've met in a long time🤎

☢️ Chapter 2: Misunderstanding, word count: 4.7k reader is just about the simplest, sweetest thing that's ever gone on a journey to find a bounty hunter who can get revenge for her. unfortunately, she doesn't find the bounty hunter she was looking for. fortunately, she finds cooper howard instead, which i think we can all agree is a blessing Chapter 1 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: unprotected sex but cooper can't get you pregnant and i doubt any diseases can survive in his blood stream, lil bit of angst, one night stand with feelings, fairytale style connections here like pussy so good it has a man questioning the existence of soul mates

Your feet were no longer willing to participate, and you found that much of your energy was going towards convincing your lower half to keep going, even at the painfully slow pace you were struggling to keep. Trudging along what was left of the highway, you wondered how much of the difficulty was physical, and how much of it was the mental block. Because for all the effort it had taken you to get this far, with the end goal in sight you were beginning to reconsider.

What were you even going to say when you found the man you were looking for? 

“Hi, I’m looking to hire a bounty hunter, and I’m told you’re the best.”

Far too formal. Almost pleading. He’d know you were someone he could take for a ride immediately.

“Hello. Are you a bounty hunter? The famous one?”

That sounded like you were about to ask for his autograph before you asked if he could take on your job.

“What’s up, good sir. Are you by any chance willing… to… do…”

“Fuck.”

You’d had this entire journey to figure out what you were going to say, and now you were so close to reaching the settlement marked on your map and you were, if anything, less prepare than before.You couldn’t even blame it on distractions, because aside from a few standard dangers, it had been smooth sailing. A small mercy you were incredibly grateful for during the journey. And yet, instead of putting that time to good use, you had daydreamed your way along broken highways, beating the occasional radroach to death with your tire iron, and willfully ignoring what you had set out to do.

It just seemed so dangerous. So seedy. 

But unfortunately necessary.

Four times in the past three months, your quiet settlement had been attacked by raiders. Crops were destroyed and stolen, four brahmin were killed, and almost all of your prized possessions had been taken. It was only by sheer luck that they’d missed your stash of caps under the floorboards, and you’d vowed to use that to get your revenge. It was only this deep, burning desire for justice that had kept you going the past few days. Walking and walking and walking, interspersed only with fitful, uncomfortable sleep. You’d barely eaten, barely drank anything, and you were running low on supplies. But the signs for the next settlement were there on the walls, ushering you in, promising you food, rest and a solution to your problems. 

That was if you could convince the solution to do what you needed. 

And that itself hinged on your ability to recognise the bounty hunter.

“Oh, you’ll know him when you see him.”

That’s what the mayor of your settlement had told you. And what kind of advice was that? 

It’s not like there was a uniform they all wore. And as far as attitude went, what were you supposed to look out for? Handy with a gun and a cruel, cut throat demeanour? That was everyone in the Wasteland.

As you entered the large town, a settlement thriving somehow, you decided the bar was the best place to start your search, and the lure of having a drink, surrounded by voices and music, was far too enticing. There was nothing like that back home. Travelling traders and the makeshift common house was as close as it came to any kind of socialising or excitement. And while you were here on business, and rather serious business at that, you felt like you deserved a reward, a little bit of something to look forward to.

The bar gave everything that you hoped. The minute you walked through the door, you were quickly distracted by a fight that had just broken out. It was stopped by someone you assumed was working security who smashed the heads of the two men involved against the table, and then carried them through to a back room, one over each shoulder. A few people looked up from their drinks or away from their conversations to take you in, none of them settling for too long. This was a trading town, strangers came in and out all the time, you weren’t special here. You blended in. It felt nice, actually, not to draw too much attention. 

Sidling up to the bar, you asked for a water, deciding that quenching your thirst was a better option than beer, and settled into your crooked, wobbling stool. You couldn’t help but smile as you sipped at your cup and looked around the place. As dark as the reason you were here was, it felt like it had given you purpose, meaning. You were on a noble quest. The excitement was dulled, however, as you looked to your left and noticed the man beside you. Only then did the seriousness of your journey settle back in, heavy on your shoulders. 

The stranger next to you had shielded most of his face with a worn cowboy hat, one that was frayed and aged, but his skin was still visible, telling of his kind. A ghoul. The scars that marred his cheeks, sunken eye sockets, and no nose to make up his side profile. He was sipping at a dark liquid in a chipped glass, holding it with gloved hands. His body was covered mostly by a tattered duster jacket, but below it there was a glimpse of blue and gold, hidden under a thick, leather waistcoat. 

He certainly looked the part. The thought made you feel guilty, as though you had judged him based on his looks alone, but that was all you had to go on. Either this was the man you were looking for, or he was bound to know where to find that person. So you took the risk and tapped on his shoulder. 

Immediately, you understood that you had made a mistake, as his dark, brown eyes focused in on you, his lips curling into a sneer. 

“I will be polite, since you look like fresh meat, but do not touch me.”

“I-I’m so sorry, I just-”

He put up a hand, silencing you. 

“I only speak by appointment, darlin’.”

As he turned back to staring into the space in front of him, you decided you’d already come far enough not to push, just a little. Besides, the attitude, the way he spoke, the suggestion that he took on appointments. You were so certain that he was the man you were here to speak to.

“Well… you don’t look too busy right now…”

“You got ten seconds before I take this glass and make an awful mess of you.”

“I want to hire you! Please, just… Can I buy you a drink, Mr…?”

He looked down into his glass, almost empty except for one large gulp, which he swallowed with a sigh before he pushed the glass forward.

“Name’s Cooper.”

“Cooper. So…?”

“Whisky.”

“Whisky. Right. Thank you!” 

Cooper watched as you attempted to make your voice heard over the noise of the patrons in the bar, intrigued by you, far more than he would have liked to admit. Usually, clients were all the same. In town for the night, passing through, a regular. It didn’t matter, they were all there for a reason, and they wanted to get straight to the point of it. He preferred that. No beating around the bush, at least not until they had paid him. 

“Here you go! He said that was the best they had… it was expensive, so I hope he’s right.”

Eyeing the liquid, Cooper swirled it and grimaced, and when he raised his glass to drink, you copied him. The swig was lodged in your throat, a burning, painful taste that lingered at the back of your tongue and had you coughing and spluttering. From beside you, you could hear Cooper’s cruel chuckling, finally smiling, albeit at your expense.

“What’s so funny? What? Do you actually like the taste of this?”

“Oh, darlin’, don’t get yourself all worked up. I just find it amusing that someone like you would want to hire someone like me, that’s all.”

“And why is that?”

Cooper sighed, setting the glass down on the bar and turning in his stool to look you in the eyes. His gaze was intense, his eyes soulful, deep, focused.

“I just don’t think you’re lookin’ for what it is I can offer you.”

“Really? Well, what is it that you can offer me then, and I’ll tell you whether or not I can handle it.”

With a wry smile, Cooper nodded towards the bartender.

“Why don’t you go rent a room and I can tell you all the things I can offer you.”

That settled it for you. He was definitely the guy you were looking for, or at least, the kind of guy you needed. Secretive, trying to act threatening, scarier than he might be, to let you know how dangerous he was. He would be perfect. So you smiled back, hopping off your stool to go and speak to the bartender who gave you a key and a room number. By the time you had turned back around, Cooper was already making his way to the corridor, and you rushed to catch up to him. 

“Room number… five.”

“That’s a nice one, in the centre of the hallway, so it’s kept warm.”

“Uh…huh…”

He seemed to know it well, the whole space, as he confidently took the key from you, opened the door, and ushered you inside. That certainty with which he held himself, the confidence that flowed out of him, it was so oddly enticing. And as he settled himself down in a chair in the corner of the room and lit up a cigarette, you realised that you found him quite attractive. Bravery, danger, those soulful eyes that held what you could only imagine were decades upon decades of secrets, of history. Plus, despite his cold demeanour, he was oddly charismatic. You assumed that’s how he got by in this town, or any settlement. Usually, ghouls weren’t welcome, but Cooper seemed like the kind of man who could charm his way into anywhere. 

“So, what is it that you think I can do for you, sweetheart?”

You’d been staring at him blankly for a minute or so, watching as he commanded the space, relaxing himself into it. If he didn’t have years of being a fetishised novelty to back him up, he could have sworn that you seemed genuinely attracted to him. It had been so long since someone had looked at him like that, a blush on their cheeks, taking in his personality as well as his scarred and interesting body. 

Truthfully, he was looking forward to this himself. He’d have been lying to himself if he denied that you were his type. A little naive, sweet and cheerful, perfectly corruptible. But it was more than that. Your eyes seemed gentle, understanding. A trait that was hard to find these days. A look of the past about you, likely your upbringing. Those smaller settlements up in the hills were generational, clutching to what their ancestors had known before, living on kindness and the American spirit. THe nostalgia settled in his gut as he took you in. 

“Ok, so! Raiders.”

“... Raiders?”

He raised his brow, questioning you silently. It had been a long time since someone had asked for any roleplay in their encounter with him, and he could hear the jingling of caps as he wondered how much he could charge you for that.

“Yeah, raiders. They’ve attacked my settlement four times already.”

“And… they took you hostage? Kept you as a prisoner?”

“N-no… why…? No. They keep destroying our crops.”

“Oh, so you’re hungry.”

“I mean… yeah, but most of all I just need-”

“Need a little relief from all the stress you’ve been under?”

“I guess so, but not before I’ve solved the problem. What I really need is a bounty hunter.”

Cooper raised his hands, silencing you, a confused look on his face.

“I’m gonna stop you there, missy. This is verging on an acting job, and I don’t do those any more. Now what do you mean a bounty hunter?”

“Sorry… I don’t… what is there not to understand? I figured that’s what you did… isn’t it? Hunt bounties? Someone told me I could find a guy here that was good with a gun and-”

“Oh, you gotta be fuckin’ shittin’ me!”

He let out an exasperated laugh as he stood up from the chair and walked to you by the door.

“You think I’m a fuckin’ bounty hunter?”

“I thought… but now I’m sensing that you’re not in fact a bounty hunter.”

“Yeah, you got that right at least, lil lady.”

“So what are you then?”

“I’m an escort.”

You didn’t want to be presumptuous, and you couldn’t quite believe what he was saying, so you sought out some clarification, much to his dismay.

“So you… you go with me to get the raiders like a chaperone?”

Cooper stood in front of you in disbelief, narrowing his eyes at your perceived stupidity. 

“No, I ain’t escorting you anywhere except to this bed. Or the floor. Or against the wall.”

“Like sex?”

“Yeah. Like sex.”

You had so many questions, and not one of them felt appropriate. He just didn’t seem like the type of person who was well-suited to that particular line of work. Of course he was handsome, and there was that alluring, cruel nature that you found so beguiling, but his exterior was so rough and cold that you couldn’t imagine a lot of people getting past that.And with that thought, you wondered if he considered you to be that kind of person, someone who would shrug him off based on his demeanour, or worse, his looks. 

“Why were you so surprised about me wanting to hire you then?”

“Well, darlin’, you just don’t strike me as the wild type.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Means I usually only offer my talents to the people who want something a little weirder than what’s on offer elsewhere. Kinky folks, someone looking to get a bit freaky.”

“Huh…”

He didn’t know you well enough to make that judgement, and it smarted a little. And you were learning more about yourself too, because you were interested in him. Even before he’d revealed to you his line of work you’d been finding yourself stuck in a trance by Cooper. Of course you’d already reasoned that he would never be interested in you, but now that you know his affections could be bought…

“Is that all you brought?”

Speaking of money, Cooper had begun to rifle through the stash of caps that you had laid down on the dresser beside your backpack. 

“Uh… yeah. I thought that would be enough.”

“This would barely cover my fees, and you were gonna try and hire a bounty hunter for that? That is just about the stupidest god damn thing I’ve ever heard.”

You stepped to him purposefully, pulling the caps from him and putting them back into your bag. Even with your little quickfire crush, you found yourself irritated by his constant, snippy remarks. 

“Listen, I had no other choice. My settlement is struggling, this is all we had left after the raiders. I was hoping that someone would take a little bit of pity.”

“Sounds like the plot of some corny old cowboy movie.”

“Makes sense now, me thinking you were the bounty hunter, hm?”

Gesturing at his outfit with your hand, you let your eyes take him in from the floor up, and when your gaze settled on his face, you noticed him stepping closer, leaning into you. 

“I ain’t just some cowboy, missy. I am the cowboy.”

The way his voice lowered for emphasis, growling in his throat as he spat the words out at you with every intention, made your body flush with heat. A near immediate clenching formed in your gut, a tight coiling as you felt your saliva collecting against your cheeks. If you didn’t ask, you’d regret it forever. So you swallowed your nerves and spoke.

“So, can you do anything for me then?”

“I can do plenty, sweetheart. I can give you an earth-shattering orgasm and something to think about on your travels back to your little settlement. I cannot kill someone for you, but I can make you forget your troubles for a little while.”

“A-and… I have enough for that?”

Cooper grinned, more of a smug sneer than anything that resembled genuine happiness. 

“Are you asking to hire me for these other talents, then?”

“I guess so. Can I?”

“Hey, you got the money, then you’ve got me.”

You reached for your caps once again, handing them all over to him and watching as he put them into the pocket of his coat. All of it gone, in a moment of weakness over a man you’d just met. Before you could resent the decision too much, though, Cooper began shrugging off the long, duster jacket, your caps jingling as he did so. With it off, you could get a better look at his tarnished outfit underneath. He looked even more like a cowboy now. He hadn’t been lying before. Everything about him reminded you of those old holotapes you’d seen, the tarnished posters on the walls of buildings, or in the thankfully spared comic books you had been able to read. 

Noticing that you were just standing there, staring at him, Cooper broke the silence. 

“You look nervous, and I am a busy man. Shall I get things started?”

You weren’t even aware that you had started nodding until he was in front of you, fingers pulling at the material of your shirt and untucking it from your pants. He really wasn’t shy about it, no hesitation at all as he teased it up and over your head, already working on his own.As you stood there, awkward, exposed, he tossed his shirt to the side and began working on his belt, unbuckling it as you watched him. His body was lean, but not slim. The scarring on his face followed over his entire body, covering him completely. Each little line and ridge in his skin looked tempting, and you wanted nothing more than to run your fingers along him, to feel the texture against you. 

Cooper was quick to fulfil that desire, wrapping his arms around you as he worked at your pants. The embrace felt warm, and you couldn’t help but let your own hands travel around to his back, stroking up and down his spine as he pulled your pants down, letting them fall to your knees. As you stepped out of them, kicking them to the side, Cooper did the same, stopping briefly to take you in fully as you admired him in return. 

His cock was average in length, thicker than most, but what intrigued you most, once again, was the way it might feel against you. Ridged, tickling, with a stretch. You could feel yourself drooling at the thought, only pulled back to reality by Cooper’s voice.

“A quick disclaimer: you’re not going to get pregnant, and my blood kills diseases. I’m clean, so anything wrong with you, you can’t blame me.”

It was an oddly comforting statement, and solved a problem you hadn’t thought of until then. You nodded, standing in an awkward silence until Cooper spoke again.

“So, where do you want it?”

“I, uh… on the bed, I guess?”

“Well, that answers that question, but I meant my cock.”

“Oh! Maybe… uh… I…”

Cooper interrupted you, putting you out of your misery as you fumbled around for the right words and the bravery to ask for what you wanted. 

“Listen, just… lay on your back and spread your legs so I can get to your cunt. Nothing too adventurous for you, I think.”

You did as you were told, thankful for the instructions and his easy way of speaking them, even surprising yourself at how enjoyable you found the vulgar way he spoke to you. Everything about him was a little bit vulgar, though. But all the same, exciting and attractive, only fueling your arousal as you watched him spit on his hand, a long strand of drool connecting from his lips to his palm, before he stroked it along his cock. 

“You good?”

“Skill wise, or-”

“Are you ready?”

“Yes. Yes…”

With a roll of his eyes, not quite the look you had hoped for admittedly, Cooper lined the head of his cock up with your slit, pushing the tip past your folds and into your cunt with a soft groan. You were tight around him, stretched by his girth, and the way your fingers clawed at the mattress gave him a feeling of accomplishment already. 

Already, this felt different to him. You kept your eyes focused on him, when they weren’t closing against the pleasurable pain of him thrusting his cock into you. And not just to take in his body, instead, you were looking into his eyes. It felt like he was being seen for the first time in a long time. 

At one point, a soft smile crossed your lips, almost shy, and it pushed a grin to his own lips. It reminded him of someone from so long ago. Someone who looked up at him, body exposed to him, admiration and giddy glee in their chest. From that day, the last one. He couldn’t remember her name, but he remembered how she made him feel. She was sweet, and she saw him for who he was, not what he’d become. And given what he’d become now, he could be certain that it was the last time someone had seen Cooper, until you. 

Cooper grunted as he pushed himself deeper into you, up to the hilt, his hips pressing into you, hands on either side of your head against the bed. Everything about you was enticing. The soft giggles you let out, deep, breathy sighs as he worked at you, half-lidded eyes that sparkled with joy as they took him in. Usually, he was good for a solid half hour of pleasure, well worth the money he charged, but he could feel himself coming undone already. 

“Cooper… this is… you’re so good.”

Usually, he wasn’t one for speaking during sex, unless he was paid extra. But he indulged himself in your praise, wetting his lips and pushing past the grunts of exertion to ask for more. 

“Yeah? Tell me then, darlin’... tell me how good it feels.”

Your words spilled out with surprising ease, given how shy you had seemed. Kindness was clearly natural to you, and Cooper was incredibly grateful for it. It was beginning to feel like less of a job, a task, a need to get you fucked and out of the door and more of a genuinely pleasant experience for him. The more he considered how good it felt, to be touched, to be held, felt, appreciated for more than just fulfilling a kinky niche, the faster his rutting got. He wanted this to last, wanted the feeling of your cunt wrapped around his cock, your body warm under him, your eyes trained on his, to last for as long as possible, but it wasn’t easy to hold himself back. And it seemed less likely that you would be able to hold on either, as you had begun whimpering, fingernails scratching at the sheets, your hand finding his and clinging to it as you began to jerk your hips into him.

With a sharp hiss that opened into a shriek, you felt yourself reaching your climax, clenching around him as you quivered, your body electrified for those thirty seconds of extreme pleasure, your body overwhelmed with the sparking sensation that had you tingling all over.

When your breath was steady once again, you reached a hand up to Cooper’s cheek, holding it there and stroking his cheekbone with your thumb, enough energy left to utter one word.

“Wow.”

The way you uttered that one word was enough to push Cooper to his own orgasm. There was more kindness and genuine feeling in it than anything he’d heard in the past two hundred years. And as he felt himself being emptied inside of you, he couldn’t help but hit an incredible low, realising that it was over already, before he had begun to properly appreciate it. So he sank down into the mattress, rolling over and settling in next to you.

Laying there, your body cooling in the wet patch under it, you could barely speak, but you pushed past your heavy breaths to get at least one thing out.

“Thank you.”

Cooper kept himself as still as possible, letting his body come to a regulated pace, trying not to react to the words he was sure he had just heard you say.

“Thank you.”

No one had thanked him, for anything, for a long time. And least of all for his efforts in sex. The only reason he really made it, so to speak, was that he was a niche commodity in the world of sex. There to be used, to get off on or with, and then to leave again. And if he thought too hard about it, no one had ever thanked him before either. Not Barb. Not his co-stars. Not the directors who he performed for. No one. Was he actually good at it? Talented? Had he now fucked so much that he was an acceptable lay? Or were you just an outlier? Connected to him in a way that made it good? It seemed far more likely, given that he himself had found it far more pleasurable than anyone else in the last two hundred years. But that thought was a difficult one to process, so he rolled over in the bed in a bid to avoid those feelings, focusing so hard on the bare wall in front of him that he fell asleep remarkably swiftly.

Noticing that his breathing had slowed, a soft snore occasionally rumbling over his lips, you stood up from the bed and moved quietly and carefully to the sink in the corner, filled with old, stale water that felt cool against your skin. You didn’t want to risk waking Cooper, mostly because he looked like he needed the rest, but partly because you wondered what you would say, if anything, after what had just happened. So you took a seat to try and ground yourself.

From the chair in the corner of the room you watched him for a few more moments, perching there as you considered everything that had happened that day so far. A journey wasted, in some ways. But now you had an experience worth remembering, truly an adventure. It was almost difficult to imagine it as a one-off though. A singular event, never to happen again. And as you watched Cooper’s body moving slowly, inhaling and exhaling soundly in his sleep, you realised the thought was actually quite painful. And silly. You’d only just met him. He did this with so many people, and you weren’t special. It would be foolish to let yourself think that. How ridiculously typical would it be for some naïve country girl to find herself attached to her first one night stand, with a paid professional no less. So, rather than face those difficult thoughts any longer, you collected your things up, stopping only to reach into Cooper’s jacket and take enough caps back to pay for another room. At the bar, you were given another key, and you headed back up to try and get as much sleep as you could before making the decision about the next steps in the morning. 

[luceafarul-de-dimineata]

Expanding on my previous post, I think having to take care of child of the enemy would be such a wonderful deconstruction of Leviathan's character.

Leviathan's main motivation for everything he does is to protect the future of Hell, to protect the children and avange the ones that were lost in the experiments. He eliminates anything that might be dangerous for Hell because if there's even a 1% chance of someone suffering he would blame himself for it. He wants to go find the seed of the fruir of knowledge even though he knows it's a dangerous journey, just because it might save his subjects.

Also, Leviathan (as far as we know) has the most personal reason to hate angels. He's seen them at their cruelest and they've always been a traumatic force in his life. While the other kings got to have more peaceful childhoods (again, we don't know if they were abused, I'm just going off what we know) Leviathan never had that priveledge. Even before the war he was abused by them, and now, in his adulthood, he still can't move on because he sees his subjects being killed and tortured by the same people that abused him.

I think that out of all the characters, Leviathan would be the most... interesting father. Don't get me wrong, he won't be bad, but the sort of abuse that Leviathan had to go through changes you in ways you might never expect. He loves kids, the main reason he fights this war is to make sure the children in Hell get a childhood that isn't characterised primarly by war and death. But if he had to deal with a child 1 on 1 for long stretches of time...

He'll probably be extremely overprotective of them, going by the same rule of 1% change of danger = death. The way most parenting works, especially from people that were abused in their childhoods, is that of trying to protect the child from the trauma they experienced. I doupt Leviathan would even let angels look at his kid, or anyone that he percieves as dangerous for that matter.

We also see in the Orias event that Leviathan can be very nice to the people he likes, and I think that it would be the same for his kid. It would be something like

Leviathan strangling MC: I need to kill you, MC, for your life is bringing certain doom amoungst my people

Levi's kid: Dad, can you help me with my algebra?

Leviathan dropping MC to the ground: Yes, sweetheart, what is it? Do you want us to repeat your multiplications table?

Tl;dr of this post is - stop saying Leviathan would be a shit dad. He'll be overprotective of his kid, but he'll never in a million years hurt a child

[laurenkmyers]

i actually can't even find the words to express how utterly impressed i am about fortpeat and how far they've both come as actors because what i just witnessed at the end of that episode was some of the most beautiful emotional acting I have ever seen in my whole entire life.

the spice is one thing, we knew fortpeat would bring it like they always have done, but the EMOTIONS?

to take us on such a journey in such a short amount of time has me literally wanting to bash my head against a wall they're so good.

and the way that their comfort and friendship offscreen translates so beautifully and effortlessly onscreen has me clawing at the walls. they've come so far since the LITA days, both rookie actors in their own right, and for me to go from screeching over an NC to then have me in actual floods of tears is truly the sign of a good actor. my heart is racing so much just thinking about it.

i could wax poetic all night long if you let me, so i'll stop myself here and just say this, as a huge fan of them both i am unbelievably proud of them and the work they've put into this show. the love and care i can already see after only three fucking episodes is beyond anything else.

beautifully done, boys.