#thought: This is what it feels like when you overthink things | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gifsbysimplysonia · 2 days ago

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Hola. Long rambling feedback behind the cut as well as

When he meets you, he hasn’t even thought of picking up a pencil in years. Ever since you’ve been at the mansion though, Logan’s fingertips twitch with the urge to start sketching your features every time he’s with you. It gets hard to ignore after a few days.

I think this is so beautiful. Anyone who is a creative knows how difficult it can be to find a muse. So for this person to inspire a twitch in Logan after YEARS? That's just a very beautiful thing.

He waits until he’s known you a few weeks, there’s no way in hell he’d ask if he could draw you. He’d probably embarrass you by asking, and embarrass himself by admitting he’s into fucking art. That’s not him. Except, well, sometimes it is, when he’s inspired. And you’re nothing if not inspiring.

And this is for BOTH 1) thinking it's not ok to be into art??? OK BUT CAVEMEN CARVED INTO WALLS, SIR and 2) "you're nothing if not inspiring" *screamingggggggggggggggggggg*

The first few drawings are shit, he feels like they’re almost an insult to you. It’s not that he’s accidentally drawing you ugly, it just doesn’t look like you. So he practises. Logan Howlett sits down at night to practise drawing.

I love that this fits with the Logan I know, the demand on self for perfectionism and the refusal to accept anything but. But it's especially important cuz he wants to do right by YOU/HER. *swoon*

And he totally knows that you’d never go for someone as rugged as him, that’s for sure. You deserve much more. So much more.

Sigh. Oh Logan. Always thinking he's not worthy while he holds everyone he cares about up on pedestals. I both adore him and wanna shake him for these habits.

He doesn’t know what you’re doing to him; you’ve got him using social media.

He gets Rogue to show him Instagram for reference photos. HOW CUTE!

Logan hates how drawing makes him overthink, but he loves how it feels to create something other than violence with his hands for once – something that may even be the opposite.

This is soooooooooooooooo beautiful. It is just a loud beacon of what Logan's heart really is. It's also really precious that he finally produces a drawing of her that he's satisfied with which then produces ANGST in him. Cuz he can't leave it out cuz what if people see? But he doesn't want to hide it cuz what if it smudges? Watching him go back and forth about it and the STRESS shows how much it means to him not to mess it up but ALSO, I think, how much it means to him to be back drawing. As a creative who goes through the longest dry patches, when a period of productivity comes up? OH DO I WANT TO HANG ONTO IT. And probably try so hard that I make it slip through my fingers.

He finally lets himself think the thought that’s politely been waiting to be allowed into his brain from the moment he decided he might take up drawing again. He could give it to you.

DO IT LOGANNNNNNNN!

Logan knows his drawing isn’t objectively a masterpiece, but if he’s proud of it he has to acknowledge that that probably means it’s at least decent. And you’re definitely the type of person to appreciate something like this. It’s weird admitting to himself that he’s even proud of what he’s drawn; he’s done so much in this world, who cares about a little drawing?

YOU care, sir! And people who love you will SEE that and care too!!! Don't we all wish he valued himself and his opinions more.

The only thing is that Logan isn’t sure if he’s ready for anyone to see this side of him.

It's so precious to me, how relatable this is. Anyone who is a creative can relate, I'm sure. How nervous creatives are before they publish or they post or they even just share with someone they are close to. I wanna hug him.

He knows it’s stupid to hide but he just can’t. He decides he’ll leave the drawing in your room in an envelope, maybe a pink one to show you it’s not a creepy threat but meant as a sign of adoration, from someone who couldn’t resist but try to recreate your beauty. He won’t write his name on it, he just wants you to have it. Sappy motherfucker.

Some day, someone needs to tell him he can give himself permission to BE sappy. Corny is part of life and it's a blessing.

He’d doubt himself even more if he pussied out – a grown man who can’t even slide an envelope under someone’s door. So Logan mans up and, like an idiot, kisses the fucking drawing before he puts it into the envelope. He licks the edges of it to close it and writes your name in the most anonymous handwriting he can muster and adds a little heart. It’s soo stupid.

It's annoying to read Logan's antiquated views on masculinity here. Completely understand that it fits with his character and how he has aged and evolved but omggggggggggg, it's just frustrating lol

You’re a friend and nothing more, and that’s fine. You probably don’t like him like that and he can deal with that.

The way we can convince ourselves of the worst possible outcome, eh? *smh*

You have one of those clear phone cases, filled with a bunch of tiny pictures and stickers (and is that your credit card?). But wedged in front of all of those is Logan’s drawing. You turn around, giggling, “No, I don’t draw. And anyway, I wouldn’t be drawing pictures of myself. I got it in an envelope under my door yesterday, photocopied it because I was scared it would bend in my phone case. I don’t know who drew it.”

SHE IMMEDIATELY TREATED IT AS SOMETHING PRECIOUS!!! SHE WANTED TO PROTECT IT JUST LIKE LOGAN WANTED TO PROTECT IT!!! BUT SHE LOVES IT TO THE POINT SHE MADE HERSELF A COPY TO CARRY IT AROUND WITH HER AT ALL TIMES!!!!!

“I don’t know, just, so beautiful. I’m not saying I’m not pretty or anything, but this looks… I don’t look like that. I wish I did. I can’t believe someone actually sees me like that. It’s stupid but I….” You trail off and, conveniently, the toast is done at the same time and you move on to that. But Logan won’t let you, “What’s stupid?” You turn towards him with a shy smile, “I’m embarrassed.”

To see the similarities in how they DON'T see themselves fully is kind of sweet and makes me root for them.

“I cried when I first saw it yesterday. It’s one of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten. And it’s the nicest compliment I’ve ever received, for someone to perceive me in such an artistic way.” The problem is that it makes him want to draw more, his stupid heart melting at your reaction to something he made– no, created.

He thinks he’s sappy for drawing it but he doesn’t think the same of you for enjoying the drawing.

This is HILARIOUS and KILLING ME because I also make rules for MYSELF that are different from the rules I have for EVERYONE ELSE lmao

He’s usually more of a silent carer but maybe that’s why he likes this. He’s not making it a grand gesture, not making it a thing that he’s the one drawing for you. It’s just for you to enjoy.

Logan being an Acts of Service person makes ALL the sense in the world to me.

But of course now that he knows it means something to you, he can’t get anything right. He draws your hair too curly, then not curly enough. He draws your nose too big, then too small. Your eyes end up crooked. He can’t erase too much because it’ll look sloppy, so even the drawing he gets almost perfect, he ruins with a few final additions at the end.

The curse of the sequel! I think a lot of creatives can relate to this type of self induced pressure which means nothing you produce is good enough.

“Good?” you take the frame from his hands defensively, “It’s beautiful.” He chuckles, “Sorry, I don’t know much about this type of thing. It is beautiful though.” He’s looking at you instead of his drawing.

She already has a frame for the new drawing cuz the frames came in packs of 2 and she will NOT STAND for someone not absolutely FAWNING over it and I love that from her. It's doing Logan's heart SO good to see how much she adores what he's created.

If there’s someone who’s worth it, it’s you. Seeing your pleased smile at something he made for you, he decides he’s never going to stop drawing you.

It was the stupidest joke of all that made you really laugh, some dumb comparison between Xavier and Caillou. You probably wouldn’t even giggle at it anymore now, but in the moment it was so funny you almost spat out your drink from the deep belly laugh he drew from you, holding onto his bicep so you wouldn’t fall over as tears formed in your eyes from how hard you were laughing. He wanted to engrave the image on his soul. At least he got your smile on paper.

Our man is S-M-I-T-T-E-N and I love that for him. Cuz look what it's brought back into his life?

“I didn’t know you draw”, you say without taking your eyes off it. “No one else knows.” You pretend to zip your lips, smiling, “It’s our secret.” Logan can tell that you like that. He likes it too. It feels much better to share a secret with you than to be keeping one from you.

This is so intimate. And he's finally comfortable all the way with her. She knows it's him and he's fine with her knowing it's him.

You don’t know how to put your feelings into words, so you’re kissing him instead. He pulls you down so that you’re not hovering over but sitting on his lap, and the mood immediately shifts to something different. Logan doesn’t want to overwhelm you, but if you’re ready then he’ll take anything he can get.

I appreciate that Logan is just the tiniest bit "selfish" here because this has been such an emotionally taxing ordeal for him. And she really really admires his talent and is THRILLED that it's him and that he sees her the way that he does.

From here the story slips into the Rated R portion of the story which is both hot and very sweet. The buildup means that I feel a genuine connection and intimacy between the 2 that feels "earned," if that's the right word. Cuz it doesn't feel forced or rushed or like we skipped a whole bunch of stuff to get here.

I also love that there's open dialogue. Often, the only talk between lovers is dirty - which I am a big fan of and absolutely fine with - but that here we have sweet confessions, constant check ins, and reassurances; these all fit with the journey we've been on with these two and I just really enjoy that aspect.

There's also good dirty talk, balanced give and take and praaaaaaaaaaaaise which I enjoy thoroughly. Logan also tends to take the possessive "my girl" over and over which just melts my butter!

@selfcarecap thank you so much for creating and sharing this! Thank you for following YOUR muse through to the end of this tale and then being brave enough to slip it under all our doors *bad dum tss* I really loved this look at Logan, his vulnerabilities, his abilities and desires beyond his powers / "job" and what allowing himself to create ultimately gifted him with. Well done smut that I also very much enjoyed too.

And thank you to K for putting it on my dash!

MUSE [L.H.]

Logan Howlett x reader

summary: Logan would never admit it to anyone, but over the course of his long life he has attempted to draw maybe once or twice. He hasn’t done it in years, maybe even decades, but he’s struck by inspiration when he meets you. Of course, no one can know that Wolverine draws, so he does it in the dead of night, sliding anonymous envelopes with the finished drawings of you under your door. When he sees how much you love them, he wonders if you could also love the person behind them.

warnings: smut 18+ but with an actual plot for once (brief m masturbation, oral f and m rec, unprotected piv sex, kind of accidental (but consensual obv) facial; pet names: bub, baby, good girl, princess), soft!Logan but he won’t admit it, also soft!reader, fluff (although the summary makes it sounds a bit more dramatic than it is tbh), implication that reader has curly hair, implied mutant/X-men!reader, (obviously the pic doesn’t represent the envelopes Logan uses lol he’s not doing all that)

word count: 7.3k

also i feel the need to say something about the fact that it’s Hugh Jackman’s birthday today lol so uh thanks for being huge jacked man and for giving us our Logan yay <3 | gorgeous divider by @plutism

It’s everything Logan is the opposite of – he would never tell a soul – but over the course of his long life, Logan has attempted to draw maybe once or twice. It’s not really him, but he did have a phase or two.

Except, well, sometimes it is, when he’s inspired. And you’re nothing if not inspiring.

He gives in to the urge to get out pencil and paper again, waiting until everyone else has gone to sleep. The first few drawings are shit, he feels like they’re almost an insult to you. It’s not that he’s accidentally drawing you ugly, it just doesn’t look like you. So he practises.

Logan Howlett sits down at night to practise drawing.

He picks out a few other things to draw then, to ease the pressure that comes with drawing the woman he… is friends with. Yeah, you’re a friend. And he totally knows that you’d never go for someone as rugged as him, that’s for sure. You deserve much more. So much more.

But after a few nights he feels more confident in his drawing skills again, but still, as much as he can picture you in his mind – he can do that absolutely perfectly – he’s not too sure he could really draw you accurately.

So he gets Rogue to show him how goddamn fucking Instagram works so that he can look at some of your pictures and use them as a model.

He doesn’t know what you’re doing to him; you’ve got him using social media.

He can’t believe it, but the first time he seriously attempts to draw you, it’s perfect. It’s a small drawing, not even as big as his palm, capturing your gorgeous face. He thinks of adding another few lines to your eyebrows, or to your hair or another small one to the outline of your lips, but he doesn’t want to mess with it.

Logan hates how drawing makes him overthink, but he loves how it feels to create something other than violence with his hands for once – something that may even be the opposite.

He hides the drawing in between the pages of a book, and hides the book under a pile of random clutter on his desk that not even he would normally spare a glance at. But when he lies down to go to sleep, he gets all the stuff out again and gets out the drawing. He wants to see it again. And he can’t leave it there anyway, what if the pressure from all the items on top of it smudges it?

But he doesn’t know what else to do with it. He can’t really have a drawing of you sitting in his room. What if someone sees? Then what is he gonna do with it instead?

He finally lets himself think the thought that’s politely been waiting to be allowed into his brain from the moment he decided he might take up drawing again.

He could give it to you.

The only thing is that Logan isn’t sure if he’s ready for anyone to see this side of him. To see the side that has him staying up until 3AM to finely trace the lines of someone’s eyelashes and cheekbones and lips, the side that makes him feel calm inside.

Sappy motherfucker.

He puts the small drawing back into the book and carefully pushes it between his mattress and the bedframe to protect it during the night. God, who even is he – protecting a tiny piece of paper? He groans at himself as he turns around to go to sleep.

He dreams of making a thousand drawings of you, with you as his live model. His muse.

You’re his girlfriend in his dream, he thinks.

He’s sitting in a chair in your room, drawing you as you tell him about your day. You’re lying on your bed on your tummy, elbows propped up to support your head. You’re gently kicking your feet in the air behind you, wearing nothing but a t-shirt of Logan’s, some silly graphic socks, panties with little cherries on them, and a bright, bashful smile as Logan attempts to capture your glowing features in a sketch block he’s dedicated to drawings of you.

He wakes up with morning wood.

Logan is no stranger to jerking off with you on his mind, so he spits in his hand and slips it beneath his boxers, stroking himself as he thinks of you. He imagines you on top of him as he jerks his cock, imagines you under him, or with your legs around his head, or you between his knees on the floor. He cums quickly and hard, leaving his boxers wet and sticky.

He goes for a run after he’s dealt with it and picks up an envelope on his way. He’s doubting himself but he knows he has to just do it. He’d doubt himself even more if he pussied out – a grown man who can’t even slide an envelope under someone’s door.

So Logan mans up and, like an idiot, kisses the fucking drawing before he puts it into the envelope. He licks the edges of it to close it and writes your name in the most anonymous handwriting he can muster and adds a little heart.

It’s soo stupid.

He makes sure no one is anywhere near your bedroom, walks up to your door, and slides the envelope underneath. Except he didn’t check if you were in your room. As soon as the envelope disappears beneath your door, he hears a short creak from your bed and your soft footsteps.

He hears the small and adorable noise of curiosity you let out – a confused hm? – and then he quickly and quietly makes his way down the hallway. He hears your voice about ten seconds later, an intrigued hello? as you open the door, but you don’t investigate further, closing the door behind you.

Logan’s heart is beating so fast. He’s never doing this shit again.

He’s antsy all day, waiting for some type of reaction from you. Except you don’t know that the drawing is from him so he’s probably not even getting one, and he can’t conspicuously come to your room the same day you receive an anonymous drawing of yourself.

It’s also when the insecurity settles in. Maybe he should have added a few more lines or started the entire drawing anew. Who does he think he is pretending to be an artist?

He shakes those thoughts off as he starts training with the punching bag in the gym. It’s not something that he necessarily needs to train, but it gets rid of some of that pointless energy. This isn’t him, worried about some lines he drew on a piece of paper – a scrap of a paper, really. Who cares about something like that? Certainly not him.

He sleeps dreamlessly and wakes up the next day disappointed that he didn’t get to dream about being your boyfriend again. God, what are you doing to him? Making him think about being boyfriend and girlfriend. He’s pathetic. You’re a friend and nothing more, and that’s fine. You probably don’t like him like that and he can deal with that.

He’s not even thinking of the drawing anymore, truly, when he walks into the kitchen the next morning. It only comes to mind when he sees you, alone in the kitchen, leaning over the counter to scroll on your phone, your weird green coffee (“it’s Matcha, Logan”) next to you as you stir it mindlessly with a metal straw.

“Hi,” you look up with one of those sweet smiles of yours, but redirect your attention to your phone.

At least you don’t immediately say something like hey, you know that drawing you slid under my door? It was so ugly I threw it away. Since when do you even draw?

Not that he was worried you would or anything. He hasn’t been thinking about it. Obviously. Why would he? And he knows you would never expect that it’s him; that’s the only reason he did it. He never would have given you the drawing if he thought you could have even the slightest inkling that Logan would be someone who draws. But he still wants to know what you think of it.

“You want some toast too?” You ask, putting your phone down and turning to get some bread. He sits down at the other side of the kitchen counter and as his eyes flicker to your green drink (he still doesn’t get it), he sees it.

“Is that–” my drawing, he almost said, “What is that?” He pretends to be confused, drawing his eyebrows together, trying his best to look inquisitive, “No toast by the way, thanks.”

You have one of those clear phone cases, filled with a bunch of tiny pictures and stickers (and is that your credit card?). But wedged in front of all of those is Logan’s drawing.

“Did you draw it?” He asks.

You turn around, giggling, “No, I don’t draw. And anyway, I wouldn’t be drawing pictures of myself. I got it in an envelope under my door yesterday, photocopied it because I was scared it would bend in my phone case. I don’t know who drew it.”

“Secret admirer?”

Smiling, you say, “I don’t know. I won’t get my hopes up. But the person must definitely be fond of me to draw me like that.”

“Like what?” He asks, unsure if he’s about to be offended.

But Logan won’t let you, “What’s stupid?”

You turn towards him with a shy smile, “I’m embarrassed.”

Logan stays silent. He can’t seem too pushy and draw attention to himself, but his silence makes you confess.

Logan makes a noise of satisfaction and smiles, asking you to pass your phone so he can look at it more – pretending it’s his first time seeing it. If you think that way about it, maybe the three more lines he was going to add aren’t that important after all.

The problem is that it makes him want to draw more, his stupid heart melting at your reaction to something he made– no, created.

After a week, he figures he has to give in. Drawing another picture of you is on his mind twenty-four seven.

It doesn’t help that he still catches you staring at the copy of it in your phone case lovingly more than once a day and you’ve put the original drawing in a special little frame on your nightstand. He thinks he’s sappy for drawing it but he doesn’t think the same of you for enjoying the drawing.

This is for you. It’s not about him. He’s not an artist or anything like that, he’s just doing something kind for someone he cares about (which is honestly sappy enough but he tries to ignore that). He’s usually more of a silent carer but maybe that’s why he likes this. He’s not making it a grand gesture, not making it a thing that he’s the one drawing for you. It’s just for you to enjoy.

He’ll just make this second drawing and silently put it in your room, and he’s the last person you’ll suspect.

It takes him an entire month for the next drawing, and it feels more like him that it’s been making him so angry that he couldn’t get it right at first. Maybe he had the wrong picture of artists. They’re always talking about pain, aren’t they, and that’s what he experiences too (over a drawing. Who is he?).

He takes another few days to keep track of your routine, to monitor when you’ll be in your room. He can’t have it be as close as last time.

He ends up doing it in the evening. There’s a time after dinner when most of the team stays together to watch tv, just talk, or play some games. It’s normal for some of you to wander off, come back or stick around a bit longer. It won’t be suspicious if he leaves for a few minutes and comes back.

Logan wants nothing more than to follow you when you say that you’re going to your room for the night; he wants to see your reaction. But he can’t. All he can do is go up to his own bedroom fifteen minutes later, lingering in the hallway longer than he needs to.

Just as he’s about to give up and go to sleep, you walk down the hallway, coming back from the bathroom.

“Logan!” you call all excitedly when you see him, and his heart skips a beat. Do you know the drawing is from him?

“Look,” you take his arm and pull him to your room, “I got another drawing!”

He breathes out in relief; you don’t know it’s from him. He smiles when you hold up the drawing, already framed.

“Were you expecting to get another drawing?” he teases.

“Noo, but the frames came in a pack of two. Isn’t it gorgeous?”

Logan looks at how your eyes sparkle, how proudly you’re showing him this drawing. All the work he put into it was definitely worth it. It’s another picture of your face, this time from a new angle, and with your hair styled differently, curls coiled another way from last time.

Logan clears his throat, remembering to keep up his act. “It looks good.”

“Good?” you take the frame from his hands defensively, “It’s beautiful.”

He chuckles, “Sorry, I don’t know much about this type of thing. It is beautiful though.” He’s looking at you instead of his drawing.

“It is. And you don’t have to know much about art or drawing to see how pretty this is. I still can’t believe someone would take the time to make these for me.”

Logan remains silent instead of saying what he wants to tell you. Of course he would take that time for you – and you don’t even know how much time it really took him. If there’s someone who’s worth it, it’s you.

Seeing your pleased smile at something he made for you, he decides he’s never going to stop drawing you.

He’s on a roll for some time. He’s better at drawing again now that he’s getting in practice, and he makes five drawings of you within the next weeks. Logan watches the collection of them on your nightstand grow fuller, along with your smile that somehow gets bigger every time you tell him about a new drawing.

It’s a wonder you haven’t caught on yet, but you don’t seem particularly interested in snooping around to find out who it is. You respect the person’s privacy, but you’ve confessed to him that you’d still love to know.

“I won’t try to find out who it is. I won’t push it if they don’t want me to know… but, I mean, anyone would want to know, wouldn’t they?”

You’ve adopted the nickname of ‘secret admirer’ for this mysterious ‘they’, after Logan used the term about ten times. You were reluctant at first, because the person isn’t calling themself a secret admirer – you’d just be putting words in their mouth. But after seeing how much more beautiful the drawings get each time, you’ve accepted and admitted that, okay, yes, the person must be an admirer.

Your secret admirer Logan is particularly proud of his latest drawing, excited to bring it up to your room tonight.

But this time he’s sloppy. He’s stayed for a few post-dinner card games with the team, and it’s risky, because you’ve been saying that it’s your last game for the last two rounds. But he also knows that you always say that, and never mean it.

Logan gets up to leave, and he hears Scott convincing you to play just one more round.

It’s stupid, really, risking it like that. Even if he’s gone from your room in time before you come upstairs, you could easily guess that it’s Logan. He’s the first one leaving the round tonight, so your first assumption could be that it was him.

Maybe subconsciously he wants to get caught. He’s seen how you light up at every drawing, and no matter how much you respect your admirer’s anonymity, of course you want to know who’s dedicating so much time and work to drawings of you. Of course it’s crossed your mind that the person isn’t just doing this because they’re a good friend. They’re drawing your face because they think it’s beyond beautiful.

Logan doesn’t really know why he hasn’t told you yet that he likes you. He’s good at flirting, and he’s attractive – he’s not blind. But with you it’s different, there’s a bigger risk, for the both of you. The older he gets, the harder it is to open up to yet another person. You’re friends, and you talk about personal things, but confessing that he’s in love with you is different.

Not to mention this stupid recurring dream he keeps having, in which you find out it’s Logan who’s been drawing you, and suddenly your opinion of the drawings changes. You don’t like him back like that, and suddenly the drawings feel creepy if you think about him staying up late drawing your face.

He rolls his eyes at himself and gets the thought out of his head, taking the small envelope out of the back pocket of his jeans, smoothing his hand over it. He looks around, making sure no one sees him.

Logan bends down to slide the envelope under your door as usual, but one of the corners of the paper catches against the wall, and he quickly opens it to check the drawing isn’t damaged. His heart is beating so fast, he feels stupid.

He can hear footsteps, still far away, but he can hear them. Logan messily licks the edges of the envelope to close it back up, but it’s not sticking. He can’t decide between shoving it under the door like this or leaving now and bringing it back the next day. He can feel his heart hammering against his ribcage now.

Then he hears it. He miscalculated how far the footsteps were.

“Logan?”

He turns around slowly, and it feels like the world has frozen.

You come closer, looking at him and then at the letter that he must’ve dropped. It hasn’t made it under your door yet.

He says something before you can, “I’m delivering for someone else.”

“Who?” you ask, bending down to pick up the envelope. If he wasn’t petrified, he’d enjoy the view of you bent over in front of him.

He breathes. He can’t have anyone taking credit for his work, for his art (you called it that recently, he would never). But his heart is beating so fast he doesn’t know what the fuck to do or say.

This is exactly why he never wanted to do any of this. He’s making a fool out of himself and that doesn’t usually happen, especially not over a piece of paper. Logan is confident, cocky even, he can admit that, and has no idea how to deal with things like being nervous; he never has to. This really isn’t him.

You don’t wait for an answer and look at the envelope. You open it so carefully, gently taking the drawing out with your fingertips. You’re treating it with so much care he immediately feels better. Again, this isn’t for him, it’s for you. (Well, it’s for him too but it’ll take him a while to admit that).

He’s drawn your smile this time. You were happy in most of the drawings before, but he focussed more on the eyes, and your lips only ever tugged up in a slight smile.

This one is a full-toothed grin, mid-laugh.

You two were drinking last weekend. He barely felt it but your tipsy, giggly mood was contagious. He couldn’t imagine himself feeling any other way but blissful when you’re happy around him.

It started when Logan made a casual comment about something silly Scott was wearing that night, and he had you giggling. He wanted to immediately hear that angelic sound again, of course, and so he gave you every joke about your shared friends he could think of – all light-hearted, but he was still glad you two were alone.

You look up at him now, eyes filled with tears.

“You drew this?” you ask.

He nods softly. He can’t say it but he hopes the drawings convey how in love with you he is.

Suddenly, Logan feels like his heart has stopped beating.

You’re kissing him.

You’ve leaped up, wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, and now your lips are on his.

He feels your mouth falter, probably because he’s being a fucking idiot and not kissing you back. Logan places his hands on your waist to pull you further towards him. Then his brain finally catches up and he can do what he’s wanted to for so long.

He takes your chin with two fingers and angles you so you can kiss him easier. He closes his eyes and revels in the feeling of your soft, warm lips against him. You’re soft and warm all over. Your top has slipped up over his fingertips at your sides, and he slides his hands further around your back to support you against him even better.

Logan’s tongue pushes at your lower lip, and you let out the sexiest, tiny moan of surprise as you part your lips for him, granting him access.

His tongue touches the tip of yours and from then on your cravings intensify. You feel your way over his muscular shoulders, his big biceps and over the hard planes of his chest. When you’ve had a good feel there, your hands grip his shirt in desperation and Logan gets even hungrier for you. He gently bites at your lower lip, but then you shriek into his mouth and squirm out of his grasp. He opens his eyes wide.

You grip Logan’s forearm for support when you bend down in a panic, picking up the drawing you just dropped. You let out a big breath of relief when you see it hasn’t been damaged.

“You made me drop it!” You slap a hand to his chest; it doesn’t actually hurt and it’s not meant to, but it leaves a pleasant tingle behind instead.

“I didn’t do anything”, Logan laughs, and you shake your head at him with a smile.

You take him into your room where you make him sit on the bed while you stare at the new drawing in awe. “I didn’t know you draw”, you say without taking your eyes off it.

“No one else knows.”

You pretend to zip your lips, smiling, “It’s our secret.” Logan can tell that you like that. He likes it too. It feels much better to share a secret with you than to be keeping one from you.

“I’ll only draw for you anyway, so there’s no point in telling anyone else.”

“You’re really good. I love the drawings.”

Logan gives a satisfied hum at your words, “You inspired me. Can’t have you walking around all pretty and not expect me to try and recreate it.”

You straddle Logan and hover over his lap to hug him, “They’re the best thing anyone's ever given to me. Do I really look like that?” You say the last question more quietly, and Logan wraps his arms around your sides, careful not to bump your hand that’s still holding the drawing.

“You’re more gorgeous than anything I could ever capture, but I think it comes close. I didn’t change anything about you to make you more beautiful. I couldn’t if I tried. I just tried to draw you as accurately as possible, that’s why it’s so beautiful.”

“I really love it,” you say again, happily staring at the details of the drawing. Hearing you say the word love so much tempts Logan, but he doesn’t want to move too fast. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you. He does, however, want to kiss you again.

Logan carefully takes the framed drawing and puts it on your nightstand. You push your mouth against his before he can initiate the kiss, and he grins against your lips.

Your chest is pressed against Logan’s, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest when he breathes. You may or may not be pressing your boobs against his body on purpose.

“God, baby, I’ve waited so long for this,” he says, already breathless, as his hands trail down your back, leaving goosebumps behind.

“You’ve waited long?” you raise your eyebrows, grinning, “I’ve wanted to fuck you since the day I met you.”

You see the look in Logan’s eyes changing as he bites his lip, “Who says I didn’t want the same?”

You giggle, “Why did it take us so long?”

Logan chuckles, readjusting you so that you’re even closer to him, “I was too busy to actually talk to you, just been starin’ at you so I could draw you.” His cheeks have the faintest red tint, and you kiss them, hugging him.

You whisper into his ear, “Then it was worth the wait. And anyway, it’s not talking that I’m interested in right now.”

He pulls you back to look into your eyes, then at your lips. “Where do you want me?” he asks. You giggle slightly helplessly; you weren’t entirely prepared to have a man like Logan at your mercy like this tonight.

“You can do whatever you want,” you say softly, kissing him.

Logan’s lips are hungry against yours, strings of spit falling between you two, but he pauses the kiss to lie you on your back. “Wanna eat you out,” he husks, “Been dying to know what you taste like forever, bub. Can I?” He reaches for the hem of your top, and you nod so that he can pull it off you, admiring what’s underneath.

“Sometimes I make myself cum imagining that I’m going down on you,” you confess somewhat shyly, but you figure he’s been so vulnerable for you that you can share a secret too.

Logan smirks, and pulls off his shirt, “Maybe we can make your dream come true then.”

You move to sit up, but he insists on eating you out first. You both take off all your clothes, staring at each other with huge smiles on your faces for a few moments. You’ve never seen Logan this happy.

“Look at you, baby. So pretty,” he leans down to kiss your lips, then down your neck, all the way to your legs. He spreads them, lying down between them as he all but drools at the sight of your wet pussy.

You get nervous all of a sudden. “It’s been a while,” you tell him. He looks up, taking your hand, enveloping it completely in his much bigger one.

“You sure about this? We can wait,” he gently kisses your knuckles, and a warmth spreads in your chest, slowing your heartbeat down a little.

“I’m sure,” you nod, and Logan comes up again to kiss you. The head of his hard cock catches against the space above your clit, and you both look down between your bodies. When Logan looks back up at you, his eyes are desperately begging you. You place your hand on his head, threading your fingers through his hair as he moves down your body.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy,” he mumbles into your thigh, kissing you there. You giggle, getting comfortable, your hand never leaving his hair.

Logan starts eating you out, his tongue gentle but determined against your clit.

“Taste so good, baby. Even better than I imagined.” You hum at Logan’s words, already feeling yourself come undone with his mouth on your wet pussy.

You sink further into the mattress when he starts sucking on your clit, licking into your pussy like a man starved every few moments, and your thighs squeeze around Logan’s head, and it’s even better than in his fantasies.

“Feels really good,” you tell him, pulling on his hair to stop yourself from moving too much, and Logan moans against your skin. Hearing your words motivates him even more, and he pushes two fingers into your wet pussy. He curls his fingers, rubbing up against that spot that makes you see stars.

Your back arches as you cum, Logan’s lips wrapped around your clit as your legs push harder against his head, and all he does is moan, revelling in the feeling.

Logan doesn’t stop licking your pussy until you’re tugging his head away by his hair, and he comes up for air with a grin on his face. You smile back, pulling him up to kiss him. You give yourself only a few seconds of recovery time before you make him sit down. You know you’d never have enough strength to actually make him get into a different position, but he lets you.

You push him onto his back, getting between his legs. You’re blinking up at him all prettily when you ask, “Can I suck your dick? Please?”

Logan huffs to himself because he can’t believe how hot you are, can’t believe that this is really finally happening. He tells you yes – he has no more words to describe how badly he wants this – and he watches you wrap your pretty lips around his cock.

It’s hard to grasp that it’s really you doing this right now – the woman he’s been into for so long. His cock is in your mouth and you look so gorgeous with spit running down from your lips, and all he can think of is all the dirty drawings he can now make of you, if you’ll let him.

He closes his eyes when you take him deeper, enveloping him with your warm, wet mouth. “Good girl,” he whispers absent-mindedly, too gone to say much more.

You’re not using your hands as you suck his cock, your spit trailing down on him, and you’re so eager. But it’s also late, and he sees you getting tired, eyes blinking slower as you pause to catch your breath every few moments. He also sees the determination in your eyes, and the absolute want, but he doesn’t want you to exhaust yourself.

You look so sexy all fucked out, strings of spit connecting your mouth to his cock as you pull away another time, giggling up at him shyly when you realise that he’s noticing you getting tired.

“Just need a second,” you wipe your mouth, out of breath, and it’s not that you’re not incredibly hot like this, but he still wants to fuck you tonight and he’s not sure that will happen if you keep going.

“C’mere, baby,” he says, reaching out his hand.

“Huh?” you ask, taking his hand nevertheless.

“Get back here, baby. I’m gonna fuck you now, alright? Don’t want you tiring yourself out.”

You let him lift you and put you on your back, but you pout, “Wanna taste you.”

Logan grins, “I’ll cum in your mouth, princess. Promise.”

You smile at his answer, satisfied, so you lie back down, pulling your legs up to your chest. His cock looks huge as he jerks himself off between your legs, rubbing the tip against your clit, making you squirm.

“Don’t know if I can take you,” you bite your lip. You’re not entirely sure if you mean it or not. You definitely want to try.

“We’ll make it fit, baby, we’ll make it fit,” Logan assures you, leaning down to press a kiss to your mouth, a mix of your wetness and his precum between your mouths. You feel his cock at your pussy, “You ready?”

“I’m ready,” you nod desperately, letting him push his cock into your pussy. He pauses after a few inches, but you wrap your legs around his waist more tightly, and he goes deeper.

“Y’okay, baby? You can take it, right?”

You nod, unable to form words with your pussy stretched like this, a combination of pleasure and pain between your legs – but it’s infinitely more pleasure.

“That’s right. You’re my good girl, hm?” He kisses along your neck as he bottoms out, and you both moan when he’s got his cock fully stuffed inside you for the first time. He pulls out slightly when you whine at the stretch, but you scratch down his back to get his attention.

“I can take it,” you tell him, and you watch the look in his eyes darken.

He begins to fuck you, the pain subsiding more with every thrust into your wet pussy. You can barely take him, but it feels good. With your slight tiredness, you feel like you’re floating on cloud nine.

You can’t believe that Logan – your super hot friend Logan who you’ve been fantasising about for so long – is fucking you. He not only feels the same way about you, but he’s been your secret admirer this entire time, taking hours and hours out of his day to make you smile. You’re the only one he wants.

And now he’s fucking you, fucking you well, and you feel so warm inside, not just from the sex but you feel warm in your heart, because of Logan’s care.

“You okay?” he asks, stroking a hand down your face when he notices you’re not entirely present. You nod happily, smiling up at him, and you can’t talk because you feel so good.

“Good, that’s good, bub, but let me know if it gets too much,” he says as he starts rubbing your clit, watches you nod while he’s fucking you so well, and he’s so big and so deep inside of you, “Squeezing me so tight, baby, feel so fucking good.”

You cum suddenly, letting the warm pleasure flow through your body as Logan keeps fucking you through it, rubbing your clit in just the right rhythm.

“That’s my girl, taking it so well,” he moans, breaths stuttering. You slump against the pillow after a few moments, with a soft smile on your face, and Logan pulls out.

“Gonna make me cum, baby,” he jerks his cock, and you sit up on your elbows immediately, looking him in the eyes with a smile as you stick out your tongue for him. He promised.

Logan moans when he cums, painting your face in his release, jerking himself off. He holds your head in place with his other hand, aiming for your mouth but you’re making no effort to catch his cum there.

“Such a pretty fucking face, princess, ’m cumming all over it,” he rasps, shooting more ropes of his cum all over your cheeks, jacking off onto your face.

You open your eyes when he’s done and breathing heavily, and you smile up at him. You open your mouth, taking the head of his cock between your lips to suck off the last drops of cum.

“Look at you, baby. Look so fucking pretty with my cum all over your gorgeous face.”

You hum, pulling your mouth off him and licking your lips, tasting his salty release. You brush a finger over your cheek, sucking it into your mouth to taste him more. Logan kisses you then, the flavour of himself mixing between your mouths.

He cleans you up gently, carefully wiping your face with a baby wipe and kissing every inch of your cheeks afterwards. You take his face to kiss him properly, and if you didn’t seem so tired Logan would be ready for round two immediately.

“Next time you could try to actually cum in my mouth,” you tease, making Logan grin.

“Sorry, baby. Got too excited. Couldn’t focus on asking you again if it was okay.” He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your lips.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “I liked it.”

Logan grins, “Oh I could tell you liked it, baby.” You lightly slap his chest as you giggle, pulling him in for another kiss.

You cuddle for a while, not saying much because you don’t have to. You’ve both waited for this for so long that you’re just enjoying the moment, enjoying that it finally happened.

You slip out of his arms to sit on top of him. You’re in nothing but panties, the blanket bunching around your hips. You lean your hands against his chest as you tell him more about how much the drawings delighted you. And Logan cares, of course he cares to hear that, but he’s also just a man seeing the woman he’s into naked for the first time still.

You become quiet when you realise that he’s not listening, and you giggle, “Distracted?”

Logan grins, “Just a little fucking bit, baby.” His eyes don’t leave your body, and you laugh as you bend down to kiss him. He grabs your ass, kneading the flesh. When you slightly sit up again, your tits are near his face, and he can’t help himself. He cups your breasts, playing with your nipples, making you hum.

“I should draw these,” he looks up at you, “Should draw every perfect fucking inch of you.”

“You wanna?” You adjust how you’re seated in his lap, and you feel that he’s already half hard under you again.

“Maybe after I’ve fucked you again.”

You smile, feeling yourself growing wetter on top of him.

“Tomorrow,” he continues, and your smile drops.

“But you’ve got to get more familiar with the inspiration, right? If you’re going to draw me.”

“That’s true, baby. But I think you’re too tired.”

You smile bashfully, ignoring how your eyelids were drooping shut just a few seconds ago, “Okay, but then I’ll have more energy for tomorrow.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiles, pulling you off him to cuddle you again. He tucks you in and kisses your head.

You turn to your side, taking one of the framed drawings and looking at it for a while.

Logan watches you looking at it, and the sparkle in your eyes never fails to make him feel all warm inside. “Now that you actually know about it, I don’t have to draw you from memory anymore. I can study my muse in peace.”

“Aww, I’m your muse?” you beam.

“Of course you are, princess. You’re the only reason I’m drawing again.”

“I love your drawings so much.”

Logan clears his throat, and looks at you. “Well, I love you. So, I think that went into them.”

You look at him, pouting and then kissing him. “I love you too,” you say into his mouth. He grins against your lips, pulling you closer to kiss you some more. He can barely grasp that you just said that, but he’ll have enough time soon to comprehend how lucky he is.

For now, he takes your hand, and asks, “The question might be redundant now, but do you wanna be mine? Be my girlfriend?”

“I’m already yours.”

Logan grins, takes you in his arms, and you’re still cuddling when you’re both drifting off to a peaceful sleep.

P.S. reblog with a comment and let me know your favourite moment/what you liked to get a drawing from Logan under your door tonight and a facial <33

gorgeous divider by @pommecita

#feedback #marvel #logan howlett #wolverine

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lqveharrington · 3 days ago

Note

hii, i would love for you to do ‘the prophecy’ with fred weasley and ravenclaw reader!! thank you so much 💓

The Prophecy | F.W.

summary: fred’s starting to feel insecure in your relationship, and trelawney’s reading doesn’t make it any better.

pairing: fred weasley x ravenclaw!reader

includes: use of Y/N, insecure fred, a lot of overthinking, angst, fluff at the end

a/n: for some reason, this prompt stumped me so bad. so sorry if it’s not up to the usual standards 😭

One, two. One, two, three, four.

You impatiently counted how many times the alarm on Trelawney’s stupid clock would go off until she realized it wasn’t a crystal ball predicting a Hufflepuff's future. All you wanted was class to be over and be in the arms of your loving boyfriend, but they changed the house pairings for electives. Instead of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, it was Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Luckily, you still had all your core classes with Gryffindor.

As you lazily blew on the small braid you gave yourself in your boredom, a crack of lightning struck right outside, causing Trelawney to jerk in surprise with horror etched into her face. It looked like she had just seen the grim itself.

She whipped her head around and looked directly at you, taking your hands in her shaky ones. She read your palm like the lines had magically changed since last class, muttering quietly to herself until cleared your throat in confusion.

“My dear, you will receive ill-advised news by the end of the week.” She whispered and pulled your hand closer to her buggy eyes, furrowing her brows when she saw your life line. “Expect your spirit to be broken and rebuilt by the one you trust the most.”

Your lips kissed you teeth in an unsettling manner. Was this your punishment for not listening to her and sometimes making fun of her? Did she want to make you feel bad about your life choices? Sure you bored out of your mind in class but that didn't mean you wanted a horrid reading.

Your eyes flickered toward the dark sky outside again, watching as the lightening struck louder than the last. Trelawney sighed and patted your hand shut, dismissing everyone with a quiet wave. Everyone looked at her in bewilderment before slowly leaving the tower, murmuring amongst themselves.

Furrowing your brows and flexing your hand, you took your things and hastily made your way down the ladder, narrowly avoiding your face splattering on the stone floor. You always believed in everything factual — Ravenclaw, through and through — and you weren't actually sure why you chose Divination as your elective. The crystal balls and tea leaf readings never seemed credible, always predicting the same things over and over again.

However, the Weasley Twins loved Divination. They often made up their readings and passed with Outstandings. George believed he had a natural aptitude for the class whilst Fred said he had unlocked his inner eye. But what they both heavily believed in was Trelawney's words — which you thought was utter rubbish.

When you had Divination with them in sixth year, she told them that they would encounter a horrible noise, sending someone they love plummeting. That same week, Harry retreived his golden egg from the first task and revealed it to be screeching merpeople in the common room, causing the twins to drop him from their shoulders to cover their ears. From that day onward, they clung onto her every word like it was the sacred truth.

Which it wasn't.

Shaking all thoughts of Divination out of your mind, you made your down to the Great Hall. It was your potions study hall with the rest of the sixth years, and you needed time to decompress after whatever stupid prophecy Trelawney read off you.

You scanned the hall and smiled when you saw the twins, Lee, Alicia, and Angelina already working on their forty-inch essay for potions. Well, the girls were working on their essays. The twins and Lee were playing Exploding Snap — although they weren't very subtle with it.

The look on your face meant nothing but trouble. You shook your head and messed with them, putting your hands on the twins' shoulders and holding back a laugh when you saw them jump and pretend to work on their essays. Lee looked up at you and shook his head in amusement, nudging the two Weasleys to look behind them.

George was the first to turn and rolled his eyes when he saw you, scooting over so you could sit in between him and Fred. He took your bag and put it beside his on the ground, still grumbling under his breath.

"Blimey, Y/N. I thought Snape was going to take points off and give us detention again." George nudged your side with his elbow, ruffling your hair in the process.

"Again? What did you lot do in the few minutes it took for me to get here?" You tease and tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, grabbing your own parchment out with only ten-inches left for your essay.

You quietly worked on your essay while ensuring the mischievous trio stayed on task, every so often glancing up to make sure they were doing anything stupid. As you wrapped up your essay, you looked up to your right and met Fred's eyes. You gave him a soft smile but only earned a half-hearted, tight-lipped nod back.

Parchment crinkled under your hold before you released a breath. You pursed your lips and went back to your essay, forcing back the tears of frustration from spilling out. For the past two weeks, Fred began to grow more and more distant from you. You weren't sure what exactly prompted him to do so, but he wouldn't give you an answer and the rest of your friends... Well, they didn't know if you wanted to know from them.

You felt like you were slowly sinking further away from him and you couldn't do anything. Biting your tongue to stop anymore thoughts, you turned in your essay to Snape and swiftly left the Great Hall with no spare glances toward the Gryffindors.

The states of pity from your friends only made you feel like you were crumbling into forever broken pieces.

You sat with your back against a great oak, throwing another stone into the Black Lake. The ripples echoed and repeated until they settled, the small bubbles diminished.

The rays of the sun hit your eyes, causing you to wince softly. You turned to the side and fully expected Fred to be sitting next to you, a small frown etching its way to your lips when you saw nothing but the Hogwarts castle.

Fred usually came with you whenever you needed to relax, but thinking about the past few weeks only hurt your heart.

As the whispers from the Forbidden forest grew stronger and the sun slowly descended behind the trees, you shut your eyes and leaned your head against the tree. You wished you didn’t have to leave your spot; you were only just beginning to clear your mind.

Frustratedly, you rub your closed eyes with the palms of your hands, freezing when someone spoke from behind you. That someone having an all too familiar voice.

"Love, you're going to irritate your eyes."

Your head whipped around to stare at the boy you fell deeply in love with last year at the Yule Ball. The glare you threw at him could’ve petrified him. "You have no right to call me love after ignoring me for two — almost three — weeks.”

Fred swallowed thickly and sat on a boulder beside you. He knew he was in the wrong for avoiding you for so long without telling you the truth. He believed that it was better for you not to know, but what good was it in the long run?

"I know, I'm sorry." He mumbled and bit his lip, looking down at his tattered shoes rather than meeting your eyes. "It's okay if you never want to see me ever again or choose to hate me, but I avoided you because — " He paused and squeezed his eyes shut. Godric, he was going to sound like such a stupid prick. "Because of a prophecy Trelawney gave me."

Your mouth parted ever so slightly before you threw a small rocks at his legs. Your voice rang out clear and loud, reminding him of his own mother. "Are you kidding me? Frederick Gideon Weasley! You've been avoiding me because of a stupid reading?”

"I'm sorry! But what she said about me made it seem like you needed someone better!" He let your rocks hit him and huffed, frustration bubbling within himself. He took in a breath before looking back over at you. "She told me that the something I love will succeed but only if a great weight of unstableness no longer burdened it."

You crease your brows in confusion and drop the rest of your rocks onto the ground, shaking your head as he clenched and unclenched his fist. "What are you talking about?"

"Love, you're bloody brilliant." Fred met your eyes for the first time in days. All he wanted to do was have you in his arms again and press kisses everywhere he could, but he still owed an explanation to you. "You've passed all your OWLs with flying colors and you've studied so hard for you NEWTs." He buried his face in his hands and sighed. "I'm the burden that will hold you back if you choose to stay with me."

Your initial annoyance and anger melted away at his words, eyes softening at the sight of his dejected state. "Freddie, you're not a burden to me or anyone — “

He let out a laugh that sounded more like a scoff. "I have no money. When you need support, you wouldn't get any from me. I'm not good enough for you."

Five seconds of utter silence took over. The fluttering of the owls delivering mail overhead and the sounds of the curfew bell were the only things that were heard.

Before Fred could even register what was happening, you flung yourself into his arms and rested your head on his. He froze before wrapping his arms around your midsection, burying himself into your chest. He breathed in your scent, body releasing all the tension he had stored inside.

This wasn’t the first time Fred has ever felt insecure about your relationship. There had been other times where he felt like he wasn’t good enough for you, but you were always there to reassure him whenever he voiced them to you. It was horrible to see him act like someone other than his usual self. You loved who he was and you wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Freddie…” You rub his back gently and feel him melt into you. “I don't need any money. Your words are enough support for me.”

He only nodded in response, missing your touch after days of avoidance. Fred felt your move around so you were sitting beside him, your hands moving to turn his head toward you.

You smiled at him and thumbed his cheeks. "And didn't I tell you not to believe everything Trelawney says? I doubt she was taking about our relationship." You pressed a light kiss to his lips before pulling him into another hug, "I love you, Freddie. Don't ever forget that."

When he didn’t say anything, you pulled away and looked over his features, brows furrowing as you saw his teary eyes.

"Fred —?”

"I love you so much, woman." He murmured before capturing your lips in a mind-searing manner, feeling you smile into the kiss. Fred pulled away for a breath before placing another tender kiss to your lips, thumbing the bottom lip when you pulled away in a daze. "You're my soulmate."

You grin shyly and lean your head on his shoulder, looking up at him. "No more overthinking, okay?" You watched as he nodded at you, his face flushing a deep shade of red when you began to pepper kisses on his neck. Each kiss meaning the same thing.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Fred took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles, chuckling when you got flustered over a simply gesture. "You might make me fall even deeper in love with you."

You hummed and pressed one last kiss to his lips, both of you grinning like idiots in love. "Have I changed the prophecy yet?"

"Hm, you'll have to let me check again." He said softly and gave you one final breathtaking kiss, squeezing your hip. "I think so."

"I love you, Fred Weasley." You sigh happily and kiss his cheek. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

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eilomilo · 3 days ago

Text

post-arguments with billie

pairing: gf!billie x fem!reader

genre: angst n fluff

a/n: idk how i feel about this one. but i'm posting it anyway lol. love u <3

you hated arguing with her. you both tried your best to avoid it, and arguments rarely ever happened between the two of you.

but like in every relationship, arguments are inevitable.

whenever they occured, you'd lock yourself away in the bedroom whilst billie would be downstairs. or vice versa.

neither of you liked fighting with each other. you hated it. and that's why they rarely ever happened. and when they did you'd both do everything in your power to fix it.

and the fights would always be about silly things, jealousy over nothing. . overthinking something small.

and neither of you could help it, you both knew that it was because you were scared of losing each other, which -of course- was never going to happen.

but when you love someone that much, that thought can linger with you, it scares you. . and so you try to make sure you never make any mistakes, never fuck up. . and in the process of trying so hard to not fuck up. .

you fuck up.

the period between the argument and talking again was painful.

it doesn't help that every single second, the two of you are both constantly in need of each other and so when fights happen, it puts that need on pause for a bit. or makes it stronger. .

but eventually, you both give in to that need, make up with each other, and everything is back to normal again.

and tonight was just the same. you were sitting on the bed, hugging your knees. waiting for the sound of the door being gently pushed open by billie.

and when it was, all those negative emotions went away, all the worry, all the sadness. .

"hey baby girl." she gave you a sorry smile, her voice was soft and almost sad in a way. she came and sat next to you, gently taking your arms away from you knees and placing them around her neck.

"m'sorry mama." she whispered, resting her head against yours and gently rocking you back and forth in her arms.

"can we be friends again?" she asked, causing you to smile. she planted a slow kiss on your cheek. "i love you." she mumbled as you buried your face in her neck, "no matter fucking what, okay?"

she leans back to look at you to make sure you've understood and you give her a small nod. "baby, tell me you know."

you gaze at her for a few seconds before grinning and confidently stating, "i know," she grins back at you, presses a soft kiss to your lips and mumbling, "my baby."

#𝖊𝖎𝖑𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖔 #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish smut #billie x reader #billie #billie eilish x you #billie eilish x female reader #billie eilish #ellie eilish #billie x fem reader #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish imagine

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paige05bby · 3 days ago

Text

Favorite Crime

summary: A UConn cheerleader reflects on a forbidden, passionate romance with basketball star Paige Bueckers.

a/n: based on Favorite Crime by Olivia Rodrigo

warning(s): just tension & heartbreak (sad ending)

pairing: paige bueckers x cheerleader!reader

“All the things I did, just so I could call you mine.”

It started like every cliché I’d ever scoffed at—a stolen glance, a lingering touch, a shared secret. Paige Bueckers was everything I was supposed to avoid. She was magnetic, untouchable, the golden girl of UConn basketball. Everyone wanted her, and she knew it.

I wasn’t supposed to be different. Just another cheerleader she charmed with her cocky smirk and honeyed words. But when she kissed me for the first time under the bleachers after a game, her hands gripping my waist like she’d fall apart if she let go, I let myself believe I was special.

She told me I wasn’t like the others, and I wanted it to be true. So I fell. Hard and fast, like a freefall with no parachute. I gave her everything—my time, my trust, my heart—even as the cracks began to form.

“The things you did, well, I hope I was your favorite crime.”

At first, it felt like a dream. She’d wait for me after practice, her hair still damp from the showers, her grin lighting up the hallway as she pulled me into a corner to kiss me senseless. She’d sneak into my dorm room after midnight, her laughter low and breathless as she whispered promises I was too desperate to question.

But then the lies started. The late nights she couldn’t explain. The unanswered texts. The faint smell of perfume on her hoodie that wasn’t mine.

“Do you still talk to them?” I asked one night, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her expression was unreadable as she tilted her head, feigning confusion. “Talk to who?”

“You know who.”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “You’re overthinking again. Why does it matter?”

“Because it feels like I’m not enough for you,” I said, my voice cracking.

She stepped closer, her hands sliding around my waist. “You’re all I need,” she murmured, her lips brushing against mine. And for a moment, I believed her. I always believed her.

“You used me as an alibi, I crossed my heart as you crossed the line.”

But the doubts didn’t go away. I started noticing the way other girls looked at her, the way they lingered after games, desperate for her attention. Sometimes, I’d catch her flirting with them, her smile just a little too familiar, her laugh a little too easy.

“You can’t keep doing this,” I told her after one particularly painful moment, my voice shaking as we stood in the empty gym.

She shrugged, her eyes gleaming with something I couldn’t name. “They don’t mean anything,” she said. “You’re the one I go home to.”

But it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.

“It’s bittersweet to think about the damage that we’d do.”

The fight happened after the biggest game of the season. She’d hit the game-winning shot, the crowd roaring as her teammates lifted her into the air. I should’ve been proud. I should’ve been happy.

But when I saw her outside the locker room, leaning casually against the wall with that infuriating smirk, all I felt was anger.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice sharp.

“Thought you’d want to congratulate me ma,” she said, her tone light but her eyes serious.

“Congrats,” I said flatly, brushing past her. “You’re amazing. We all know it.”

Her hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. “Don’t do this,” she said, her voice low.

“Do what?” I snapped, spinning to face her. “Point out that you only care about me when it’s convenient? That you disappear whenever it gets hard?”

Her jaw tightened, her eyes flashing. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” My voice rose, the words spilling out in a torrent of frustration and pain. “You act like I’m the only one, but you’re everywhere, Paige. You flirt with everyone, and I’m supposed to just… be okay with it?”

“You think I don’t love you?” she shot back, her voice trembling with anger.

“I think you don’t know how to,” I said, my voice breaking. “You love the attention, the game, the chase. But me? I’m just another name on your list.”

She stared at me, her breathing heavy, her expression unreadable. “You don’t get it,” she finally said, her voice cold. “I’ve given you everything I can.”

“Well, it’s not enough,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face.

“I hope I was your favorite crime.”

Years Later

The Dallas skyline glittered in the night as I adjusted my uniform, the sparkle of my cheerleading outfit catching in the stadium lights. It was just another Cowboys game, just another night in a life that was supposed to make me forget her.

And then I saw her.

She was standing on the sideline, WNBA warmups hanging off her tall frame, laughing with someone from the press. Paige. The same Paige. Older, sharper, somehow even more magnetic than she’d been back then.

My breath caught, my heart lurching in my chest as her eyes flicked over to me.

For a second, I thought she might not recognize me. But then her lips curved into that familiar smirk, and suddenly, I was 19 again, standing under the bleachers with her hands on my waist.

“Hey, stranger,” she said when she finally approached, her voice low and teasing.

“Paige,” I managed, forcing a smile. “Didn’t know you were in Dallas.”

She gestured to her jersey, the Dallas Wings logo bold on her chest. “Been here for a year. Guess we’re both in the same city again, huh?”

I laughed nervously, the weight of our history pressing down on me. “Yeah. Small world.”

Her eyes softened, the smirk fading. “You look good,” she said quietly. “Really good.”

I swallowed hard, my heart racing. “So do you.”

We stood there, the noise of the stadium fading into the background as the past crashed between us. I wanted to say so much—to ask if she ever thought about me, if she missed me, if she’d ever truly loved me.

But all I managed was, “It’s good to see you, Paige.”

She nodded, her smile wistful. “You too.”

And just like that, she was gone, walking back to her team, leaving me with the ache of everything we’d been and everything we never would be.

Paige Bueckers was still my greatest heartbreak, my deepest regret, and my favorite crime.

#uconn wbb #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers headcannons

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thewizardingpost · 3 days ago

Text

A Promise to Spend Forever Together, Not Apart

poly!marauders x fem!reader

note ⌇ lately, James, Sirius, and Remus have been acting distant and busier than usual, making you fear they might be planning to break up with you, only to later discover they’ve been working hard to save up for a ring, wanting instead to spend forever with you.

warnings ⌇word count 2.8k, after-hogwarts, established relationship, misunderstanding, hurt/comfort, marriage, reader experiences insecure thoughts, slight arguing, happy ending, love confessions

It made sense that they were all so busy—James with his new responsibilities as an Auror, Sirius throwing himself into his work as a private investigator, and Remus taking on the weight of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. What didn’t make sense was the way things felt different between you, the quiet space that had started to settle between moments that used to feel so effortless.

The transition into such life was slow, like a broken clock–a few broken ticks forward just to take a few back. You’d think it’d move forward then just that next week something else would change. James still smiled at you, but it was the kind of smile that came after hours of paperwork, his eyes carrying the weight of exhaustion as he kissed you goodnight, only to disappear back into his work.

Sirius, though still warm and affectionate, had started making more excuses, talking about "one more case" or "just a few more leads," his voice laced with fatigue, not quite as carefree as it used to be. Remus had become more withdrawn at times, his thoughts clearly pulled elsewhere, his usual calm replaced by the tension of balancing too many responsibilities.

They were still lovely, still affectionate, but the spark of energy that had once flowed so easily between you all seemed dimmer now, and the distance was subtle but unmistakable. It really did just seem like everyone was just slumped with work at first.

You convinced yourself it was nothing more than the weight of their new lives. Then there were the whispers—hushed conversations that trailed off the moment you entered the room, the sudden silence that would fall when you walked by. You’d caught James leaning over to Sirius once, his voice low, words you couldn’t quite make out but sounded far too private for your liking. Remus, too, seemed to slip into quick murmurs with the others, always before a sudden, sharp change in topic when you appeared, as if they hadn’t meant for you to hear it.

At first, you told yourself it was nothing. Maybe they were just tired, maybe stressed, but the more you thought about it, the more you couldn’t help but feel like they were holding something back from you. It was like they wanted to be together without you, to discuss things you weren’t supposed to know.

Your heart twists at the thought, from where you lie beside them in bed, the rest of them asleep, their bodies warm against yours. You’re being ridiculous. Overthinking has always been your worst enemy; there’s really no reason to lose sleep over this. Despite knowing that, your eyes won’t shut—your mind infected by these thoughts that only continue to grow more dangerous. You listen to their even breathing, the soft rustle of sheets, the clicking of the clock on your nightstand. Eventually, your body has had enough—and sleep pulls you under, though it doesn’t feel quite as peaceful as it should.

It wears on you—the lack of sleep, the constant whirl of anxious thoughts that refuse to quiet. You don’t communicate any of this with them, afraid to voice the doubt that’s slowly eating away at you. What if they really have grown tired of you? What if all this distance, this quiet space between moments that used to be so easy, is their way of pulling away? Who wouldn’t be? Everyone grows weary eventually, especially when the season shifts, when the warmth of spring and summer fades into the chill of fall and winter.

It feels like you’ve reached the point where the honeymoon period is over, and the cracks are starting to show. Maybe they don’t need you anymore—not like they did before when you all were just teens at Hogwarts. Maybe they’ve just grown comfortable in their own lives, with their own ambitions, and you’re the one left wondering where you fit in.

You don’t say anything, because what if you’re wrong? What if your fears are just that—fears—and nothing more? So, you keep quiet, hoping the weight will somehow lift on its own, even as it grows heavier each day.

Just as they’ve begun to pull away from you, you’ve subconsciously begun to do the same. Maybe it’s a defense mechanism—guarding yourself against the thought that they’ve grown tired of you, that they’re silently slipping away. Perhaps it’s the quiet, nagging fear that you’re no longer needed, no longer wanted, that you’re just a chapter in their lives they’re ready to close. You’re not entirely sure which, but it’s probably a mix of both. Regardless, something shifts in you, and you begin to separate yourself, even if just a little.

You start feeling uncomfortable in spaces you once found so familiar, like the small moments you used to share now feel like you’re standing in someone else’s life. You wonder if they notice, though you can’t bring yourself to ask. The distance between you, though subtle, seems to grow with each passing day, and the warmth you once felt when they were near starts to feel off. You don’t know if it’s them or if it’s you—or maybe it’s both—but the easy closeness you once had with them now feels like something you have to work at.

For instance, earlier that week, when James had caught you staring blankly at the fireplace instead of joining the conversation, he’d leaned in, gently asking, “Hey, love, you alright?” His voice was soft, concerned, but there was an edge to it, something almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure whether to push or pull away. You’d shrugged, offering a quick smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Yeah, just tired.”

Sirius had shot you a look from across the room, brow furrowed. “You sure, beautiful? You’ve been… off lately.” He had said it in the usual teasing tone, but there was no mischief in it this time—just a quiet concern that you couldn’t quite brush off. “I’m fine, Sirius,” you’d replied, forcing the words out, even though you felt anything but.

Even Remus, normally so calm, had paused mid-sentence during a conversation, his eyes lingering on you before he shifted the topic to something lighter, something easy. You had noticed it, the way he’d been treading carefully around you all week, and it stung more than you expected. It wasn’t that you wanted them to push, but the distance between you had become so thick, you were starting to wonder if you could ever cut through it. They were so caught up in their own concerns, their own exhaustion, their own busy lives, that they didn’t even seem to realize how their behavior was affecting you.

It’s a Thursday, some random day in March, when they seem to be waiting for you to arrive home from work, all of them silently preparing to talk. You can feel the tension in the air, the way the space between you all has shifted—lighter, almost expectant. You can tell they’ve been holding onto something, and suddenly, you realize it’s not just you who’s been carrying a weight. As you walk through the door, their eyes meet yours.

It’s a Thursday, some random day in March, when you walk through the door, and immediately, the tension is thick. Sirius stands up abruptly, his eyes narrowing, voice laced with frustration. “What, you gonna run off to your room again?” he says, his words sharp and cutting. “Avoid us some more? Pretend everything’s fine?” His tone is tight, like he's trying to keep it together, but it’s clear the hurt is creeping through. “You’ve been shutting us out for days, and now you're just gonna walk in here like nothing’s wrong?”

“Padfoot, stop,” Remus interjects, his voice calm but firm as he steps between you and Sirius. He looks at his friend with a mixture of warning and understanding, trying to reign in the tension that’s spiraling out of control.

Sirius exhales in frustration, his gaze flickering between you and James, who has been quietly watching. James finally steps forward, his expression serious but soft. “Love, can we talk?” he asks quietly, the weight of his words settling in. There’s a quiet heaviness to his tone, and for a split second, your heart sinks, your mind racing with the worst possibilities. You freeze, wondering if they’re finally going to tell you what you’ve been dreading.It was as if the ground beneath you had vanished, leaving you plummeting into a void where everything you thought you knew was slipping away. The tears came fast, blurring your vision, but something else started building within you—anxiety, frustration, a burning anger that mixed with the hurt, making everything sharper. You couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“God, why does this always happen?” you snapped, voice shaking, a bitter laugh escaping as you wiped at your eyes. “Everyone leaves eventually, right? What else did I expect? Maybe I should’ve seen it coming.” You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but it was no use. The words spilled out before you could stop them. “You’ve all been distant, quiet, barely even looking at me. What the hell is going on? Just say it already, whatever it is. I can’t—” You broke off, your voice faltering, before the anger took over again. “I can’t stand this anymore. It’s so obvious.”

Sirius stiffened, a flash of irritation crossing his face. “What the hell are you talking about?” His voice was sharp, eyebrows knitted in confusion. “You’re acting like we’ve been ignoring you on purpose. What do you want from us?”

Your hands shook at your sides, the anger now bubbling over the sadness. “I want you to stop acting like I’m not here,” you shot back, each word sharp and frantic, as if they were the only way you could hold yourself together. “I want you to stop pretending like I’m not a burden.”

Sirius’s face twisted, frustration taking over. “You think you’re a burden? You think we don’t care? Are you serious?”

You snapped at him, your voice rising even though your heart was breaking. “I don’t know what else to think! You all used to look at me like I mattered, but now… now it’s like I’m invisible to you! Like I’m just some fucking inconvenience.”

Remus, who had been standing quietly off to the side, finally stepped forward, his voice laced with confusion and concern. “What the hell are you talking about?” He looked between you and Sirius, trying to make sense of the mess unfolding. “We’ve been stressed, yes, but this… this isn’t what’s going on. We’re not pushing you away.”

Your breath hitched, your throat tightening as you tried to find the words. “No,” you choked out, trembling with the weight of it all. “You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you? Just say it. I can’t take this silence anymore. I can’t stand pretending that everything’s fine when it isn’t. Just say it and I’ll leave. I’ll just go.”

The words hung heavy in the air, suffocating the space between you all. There was a beat of stunned silence before everything shifted.

Sirius’s anger evaporated instantly, replaced with something that looked almost like regret. His face softened, and he reached out toward you, but paused, as though unsure how to approach. “We’re not breaking up with you,” he said, his voice far softer now, almost apologetic. “We’re not… God, we’re just trying to figure things out. We’ve been distracted with other stuff, but none of it’s about you.”

Remus’s gaze softened too, though there was still a trace of concern in his eyes. “We’re not trying to push you away, love. You have to know that.” He moved closer, a hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. “We’re not leaving you.”

James, who had been quiet until now, finally stepped up, his voice low but steady. “We’re not going anywhere,” he repeated, his eyes full of sincerity. “We’re just… we’re struggling too, and we don’t always know how to ask for what we need. But we need you. All of us.”

Your breath caught as you took in their words, the overwhelming fear and anger beginning to fade, replaced by a dull ache in your chest. You were trembling now, your tears mixing with relief, but the weight was still there.

James reached out, his movements slow and deliberate, cupping your face gently in his hand. His touch grounded you, his thumb brushing over your cheek, wiping away the tears that still fell. His eyes were soft, filled with a kind of sadness that made your heart ache. “You’re everything to us,” he said quietly, his voice steady but full of sincerity. “Nothing’s going to change that. We love you. Don’t ever think otherwise.”

You blinked at him, the words swirling in your mind but not quite sinking in. Slowly, you lifted your gaze, your eyes glossy, filled with so many unspoken fears. “Then why have you all been so distant?” Your voice was small, barely a whisper, but there was a rawness in it that you couldn’t hide. “Why have you been acting like... like I don’t matter anymore?”

James’s expression faltered for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. He wiped another tear from your cheek, his touch so tender it made your chest tighten. "Love," he began, the word gentle but heavy. "We’ve never meant for you to feel that way. We’ve just been... trying to give you something. We didn’t want to do anything that might make you feel neglected, I swear.”

At this, Remus, who had been standing quietly, stepped forward, his usual calm replaced with a soft urgency. His brow furrowed slightly, concern etched on his face. “We’ve all been working—well, all of us—trying to save up for something. We’ve been distant because we didn’t want to distract you with all the planning we’ve been doing behind the scenes.”

You frowned, trying to make sense of his words. “Planning?” Your voice cracked. “What... what are you talking about?”

Sirius, who had been standing a few steps behind the others, took a deep breath before he finally spoke. His voice, though usually teasing and full of confidence, was softer now, almost apologetic. He stepped forward, his gaze locking with yours. “We’re planning to marry you, love. We’ve been saving up for a ring.” His eyes softened as he met your gaze, his hand finding yours, holding it gently in his. “We don’t want you to think that we’ve stopped loving you, or that we’ve been pushing you away. We just wanted to do this right for you, for us.”

The words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you just stood there, blinking at them in disbelief. A ring? Marriage? The confusion, the fear that had consumed you for weeks... suddenly, it all felt so small, so misplaced.

“Marry me?” you whispered, your voice trembling, your heart both racing and slowing in the same beat. You couldn’t make sense of it. How could you have thought they were pulling away?

Sirius, seeing your confusion, gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “We’ve been trying to save, love. Trying to figure out how to make it perfect, and how to make sure we’re doing it right. We didn’t want to ruin the surprise, didn’t want to make you feel like we were slipping away.”

You wiped at your face again, still shaking, the realization sinking in, piece by piece. “I thought…” you trailed off, your voice small, your chest still tight. “I thought you were going to leave me.”

James’s face softened, his eyes full of regret as he pulled you into his arms. “No, love, we’re never leaving you,” he murmured, holding you close. “We were just trying to make this moment everything you deserve. We’ve always been here. Always will be.”

Remus stepped in, his voice a comforting whisper against your ear. “We love you, and we want this to last forever. We want to show you that every day for the rest of our lives.”

"I love you all too, so incredibly much."

The fear and doubt, all those months of wondering if they'd drift away from you, melted away in an instant. They weren't leaving you—they were offering something far greater. A promise to spend forever together, not apart. As you lean into them, feeling their warmth, their love, your body finally relaxed, and the future, the one you had feared might be slipping away, is full of certainty.

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melosliving · 20 hours ago

Note

I loveeee kelvin and pregnant reader. Can you do a aaron version?🥺🥺

i love when y’all are asking for thingssss pls keep doing this it makes my day. Hope you’ll like it !!

aaron pierre x pregnant!reader

husband!aaron who promised himself he would only get you pregnant after putting a ring on your finger first. (yes he is intentional like that.)

husband!aaron who actually can’t go on with his day without imagining how pretty you would look being pregnant. And he knew you’d be the most incredible mother ever.

It’s the way you coo at any baby looking in your direction or how you would soften whenever you two would pass by the baby section at the store.

"Look papa ! that’s actually so tiny.." you would say, holding a random onesie in your hands.

husband!aaron who softly takes your hand and let you handle things every single time someone asks when y’all will be having kids, wanting to remain calm because he actually hated these type of question.

"I know you’re not all up in my business, cousin." You would say, pointing teasingly at your cousin.

husband!aaron who can’t help but look at you like you were the most beautiful and priceless woman every time he would see you napping with a relative’s kid during a family gathering.

husband!aaron who starts to stress himself when thinking about having a kid with you, leading him to be awake at 3 am but still holding one of your hand in his since he wants to be close to you.

"..baby ?" he would watch you tilt your head towards him, your fingers rubbing your sleepy eyes. "why are you not sleeping ? what’s wrong ?" you would ask, pulling yourself up.

"nothing lovie, go back to sleep."

"uh-uh." you answered, going to take his hand, laying you two down again but this time he had his torso and head on your belly, his arms circling your waist. "tell me."

he would sigh, his fingers tracing shapes on your belly. "actually.. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something but I’m starting to overthink it." he explains. "I want to have a baby with you. I think we’re ready. But I can’t help but wonder if we’re really ready, and if you really want this with me, if we’re stable enough and what if-"

he would stop himself at the feeling of your hand going down his face, using your finger to pull his chin up so he would be looking at you. "doudou, I wouldn’t have married you if i didn’t want babies with you." you say in your typical softness. "I’ve always wanted you to be the father of my kids."

husband!aaron in who from this day, something primal awakes every time y’all make love. Best believe it’s either he asks you if you really want this, or you tell him to just get you pregnant.

husband!aaron who tries to be between your legs every time of the day. He really has no business wanting to make love to you like that.

husband!aaron who is actually the one who tells you that you’re pregnant. He would immediately notice something different about you. that something being your boobies.

"baby have you seen my br- why are you lookin at my tits like that, you freak ?" You would ask, actually bare chest, only your legs covered by your towel.

"baby, have you thought about taking a pregnancy test ?"

"boy you have lost your mind. Help me find my bra, my mom is waiting for me !"

husband!aaron who is so nosy he would ask to be in the bathroom while you took the test.

husband!aaron who only smiled brightly at you when the test came back positive. He would hold you close to him while you started to cry a bit because of the shock.

"I got you, baby. I got you." He would kiss your forehead, actually grateful for this moment.

husband!aaron who would watch your every move, every breath you would take only to make sure you were okay. he would actually get on your nerves.

pregnant!reader who goes full kylie jenner on the world, since she wanted a quiet pregnancy.

husband!aaron who goes to his mom to ask for baby clothes him and his siblings wore when they were born.

husband!aaron who quietly cries after the first ultrasound. Seeing the tiny flicker of the baby’s heartbeat on the ultrasound overwhelmed him in ways he never thought possible.

husband!aaron who started documenting everything, especially every silly craving you had.

"can you hold this for me, pretty ?" He would ask, stopping in one of the grocery store’s aile. Indeed, he was really adamant about taking pictures of every cravings you had.

"bubba needs to know what you put me through,” he joked, snapping a picture while you rolled your eyes.

husband!aaron who sat beside you during every sleepless night, rubbing your back when the discomfort got too much. “I wish I could take this part for you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I wished you could too." You would answer, laughing.

soon-to-be-father!aaron who nearly passed out when you went into labor but composed himself immediately because he knew you were going through one of the most traumatic experiences of your life.

soon-to-be-father!aaron who held your hand, murmuring words of encouragement even as his own hands shook.

“You’re so strong, lovie. You’ve got this,” he said, tears slipping down his cheeks when he heard the first cries of your baby.

mom!reader who sobs as she looks into her baby’s eyes.

"Aaron ! the baby has your eyes !" you would cry, looking at your baby beautiful eyes.

boy dad!aaron who held your baby boy for the first time with trembling hands, staring at his tiny face like it was the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

“He’s so small… but so perfect,” Aaron whispered, his voice cracking as he kissed the baby’s forehead.

"I’ll forever be grateful for this gift you have given me, baby." he would say, looking back at you with his eyes full of love.

@ melosliving 2025

#aaron pierre #aaron pierre fluff #aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre x reader #dad!aaron #mufasa : the lion king

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darnell-la · 16 hours ago

Text

A MANS GAME

summary: Eddie’s mind instantly went wild when he saw a woman prancing around like she loved bands and board games. when that same woman asked him to sell her weed, she couldn’t help but think he wasn’t being set up by the one and only Jason Carver. if y/n thought she could humiliate Eddie, and make him look like a fool, she was wrong. he was going to show her that.

warnings: misogyny, hate, delusion, drug deal, drug use, planned trap, semi kidnapping, unconstitutional drugging, unconstitutional fingering, SA, slight BDSM, rough sex, baby trapping, etc

note: hey... this is another requested dark-themed story, but with Eddie Munson who our number one fans know we’re obsessed with. do not read if CNC/SA makes you uncomfortable!

If you like dark-themed stories, follow our account @dark-authorr. Request us anything!

———

“And, what exactly is she wearing?” Eddie asked as he saw the new girl pass with a gamer shirt, that he’s never seen before, only rarely. “I think it’s some kind of game. Don’t know exactly,” Dustin said, not really paying attention to her.

“So girls like games now? Hm,” Eddie sarcastically said, eying y/n through the hallway as people complimented her style. “Yeah, which is hot, actually,” Mike said, making Eddie roll his eyes.

In his years of living, he has never met a girl who genuinely liked games, unless they had a boyfriend. She was new to the school, so there was no way she had one. He wouldn’t believe it if she said she was long-distance.

“Isn’t that, like, all you’ve been looking for? Or are you still on Christy? — She’s never gonna leave Jason Carver, dude. Especially not for you! No offense,” Sinclair said. “None taken,” Eddie said, knowing Sinclair was right.

For the rest of the day, Eddie’s eyes had been opened every time y/n walked by, stalking and watching her every move. There was just someone about her that he didn’t like.

He swore she was just another preppy, stuck-up girl who would do anything to get a little attention.

“Hey, uh, Eddie?” Y/n asked, now in front of his face. He had zoned out. “Yeah?” He asked quickly, hoping she wasn’t here to ask what his problem was for watching her every move.

“I heard you sell, and I just left Cali. You wouldn’t mind selling me anything, right? I-I have extra if you’re afraid I’ll tell,” y/n said, watching how Eddie’s eyes widen.

When she looked at him, she couldn’t stop but think how amazing he was. She barely saw men like this around in Hawkins.

“Sure, but, I gotta ask — Do you even smoke? Or is this like a, I wanna fit in, thing?” He asked, making her giggle at his thought process. “I really smoke, hun,” she smiled, flashing diamonds that were glued to her teeth. She was truly into what she dressed like, but, Eddie couldn’t seem to believe it.

“Hm, well, I’ve got some at the crib. Maybe stop by later tonight? My uncles outta town so, any late times doesn’t matter to me,” Eddie said, getting a dark feeling in the back of his mind, but he slightly ignored it.

“That’s fine with me,” y/n said before she slowly walked off after giving one last smile. “Yeah, we’ll see if you’re genuine, girly,” Eddie said under his breath, convincing himself that she had to be some kind of setup.

Eddie had horrible overthinking problems. No one throughout his whole high school career liked him, so why, now that he’s in college, would a girl randomly know he sells weed and would want some from him.

“Dude, you good? Looks like she’s got your tongue,” Sinclair said, making Eddie laugh loudly. “Her? Oh, Jesus, no — A girl like that is just a plant to see if I’d fall for it,” Eddie spoke, sounding delusional as always.

“What do you mean, plant?” Mike asked. “You see, she just had a class with Jason, and I saw them talking. I bet you he’s setting me up by swinging a girl like that my way,” Eddie said, truly believing what he was saying.

“And, how would he possibly set you up, Eds? She doesn’t even look like she’d do something like that to you. A stranger!” Dustin said as he rolled his eyes, tired of him seeing everything as some trap.

“Oh, but I bet, she would. You see, a girl like that doesn’t exist. I bet you tonight, she’ll come over, make some move then leave before we get to do anything, then tell the whole school how I thought someone finally liked me,”

The younger men looked at each other, confused about why Eddie was acting this way. She was nice. They barely hear that around here, and he’s always shutting her down.

“Okay, man, whatever you say,” Sinclair said before he walked off with his basketball team that had just passed. “You need to work on yourself dude,” Dustin said. “Seriously,” Mike added.

It’s currently late at night, almost so late, that Eddie thought she wouldn’t show up. That was until he heard a knock on his front door.

Eddie got up from his and made his way to the front. He had a few things to ask y/n to test out what kind of person she was.

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m late,” y/n said as she walked in after Eddie stepped aside. “No problem, I was just looking at the band you have in your shirt, and I was curious,” Eddie got straight into it.

“This band? Oh, yeah, they’re kind of my favorite,” y/n smiled. “Ah huh — I realized they don’t really do music. They’re more into book writing,” Eddie said, which was correct.

“Yep, that's how I got into them. I love reading, and when I found out they had music, that was even better,” she said, making him chuckle low. “So you like sec?” He asked, making her laugh.

“Oh, uh- Yeah. Yes, I do,” she said as he scanned her figure. He hadn’t gotten a great look at her today, but now he did. Her body was more banging than he had thought.

“Hm, you into all that stuff they talk about? I mean, my bands are freaks, I’ve never seen one like yours. Especially with girls in them,” he said.

Y/n usually never felt off about talking about who she liked to watch and listen to, but there was something about the way Eddie came off, that made her feel weird.

“I guess, but I’m not really down to talk about that,” y/n said, warning Eddie that she was getting uncomfortable. “Oh, what are my manners- I’m sorry — Let’s get you your purchase,” Eddie said as he guided her to the back where his room was located.

Eddie stood to the side after he opened the door, looking at her for her reaction that he’d been waiting for all night.

Once y/n stepped into his room, her eyes slightly widened at his layout. She knew he was a metalhead, but she didn’t expect all of these sexual toys to be laid out. Some even looked fresh from the store.

“Over here — I’ve got a couple of pre-rolls, and this new hash I kind of whipped up myself, that’s It’s free. I want to see how my first costume feels about it,” Eddie said as he guided her to his bed.

The young man picked up this new roll-up he had made and handed it to the young woman. “Oh, I wasn’t planning on smoking now,” y/n said. “C’mon — Just one hit. I wanna make sure it at least smells, and tastes good,”

Y/n felt a bit off, but she didn’t want to shame the man. She knew he barely had people over, so she accepted what he was giving.

“Fine,” she smiled as she took the lighter that Eddie had lifted up to give her. “Sit down and get a little comfortable,” Eddie suggested as she hopped in his bed, and pat the spot next to him.

Y/n softly sat next to the man, ready to see what he’s created. She wanted to be a nice help, so she quickly lit the joint and took a hard hit.

She coughed a bit, not knowing it would be this strong. It barely had a taste of weed, more like something else that she couldn’t place her hand on.

“Take a few more,” Eddie pressured. “I don’t really think-“ y/n tried saying. “Hey — Just a few more, and I’ll even cut the price,” Eddie said, knowing exactly where he was going with everything.

Y/n took a deep slow breath before she took another hit. She didn’t exactly want to, but she’s driven a bit high before. She should be fine.

Y/n took another hit, each puff getting more smoke in her lungs, making it hard for her to feel what was happening.

“Feels good?” Eddie asked as he placed a hand on her thigh. “Actually does,” y/n said, surprised that she felt the high so fast. “Wanna know what’s in it, princess?” He asked, making her nod as she took another long drag.

“I knew you like California weed, so I put some pure hashish in the roll,” Eddie said as he rubbed her thigh, getting closer to her heat that she barely noticed. She felt him but didn’t say anything.

“Yeah, and you wanna know what else?” He asked as his free hand slowly moved up to her face, so he could rub at her cheek. “What?” Y/n asked low as she turned his way, feeling her eyes get extremely heavy.

“For the fun ride, I sprinkled a bit of opioids and benzodiazepine, just to get you a little woozy,” Eddie smiled, knowing that would trigger her brain. “What?” She wanted to sound more upset, but she couldn’t.

“I-I’ve gotta go,” the young woman said as she tried getting up, but she was too weak. “Why? I thought you liked it here? The room was decorated just for you,” Eddie said as he slowly reached under her skirt.

“No,” was all y/n could let out when she felt him pull her panties to the side. “What was that, princes?” Eddie asked as he leaned into her face, wanting to see and hear her struggle.

“No,” she breathed out as a tear rolled down her eyes. “And, why is that? I thought these half-high fishnets were meant for foreplay,” Eddie chuckled as he slowly pushed a ringed finger into her cunt.

“N-No,” y/n stuttered, saying that word too many times for him to keep going. “Just relax, princess — I thought you liked it kinky? I bought the chains, the gags, the toys, and the drugs. Wasn’t one song called, drug me? I assumed that would be your favorite,”

Eddie had pushed another ringed finger into y/n as he leaned down to her neck and began sucking on a few spots. There was no way he wouldn’t get what Jason set him up for.

Eddie still believed she came here just to humiliate him. He didn’t regret setting this up for her. She deserved it for what he thought she was going to put him through.

“Eddie?” Y/n choked on her cry as her walls fluttered around his fingers. “Oh, no, no — You don’t get to cum yet,” Eddie said as he pulled out of her, and pushed her down into his bed.

“You’re gonna let me fill you up first — Then maybe you can cum on my face while I eat out your overstimulated pussy,”

Eddie sounded evil to y/n. His voice echoed through her mind like a nightmare, but she couldn’t yell at him like she wanted to. She couldn’t fight him like she wanted to.

“I’m gonna tie your arms behind your back, somehow tie your legs so they’re forced open, then gag you before I get started,”

Eddie didn’t lie and did just that in under five minutes. He had looked up videos and learned quick. She should feel special for what he’s doing for her, since this is what she likes, after all.

“Tied you down for a little, and you’re already soaked, Jesus Christ,” Eddie teased as he played with her folds, watching his juice spill out of her hole that he could’ve sworn gripped a few times around air.

“You want me, don’t you? Even if this was all a joke for Jason, you actually want me, and not him — You could've just asked me, princess. I would’ve still rocked your world, but I guess you wanted it rougher,”

Eddie happily pulled himself out of his jeans, and stroked, seeing he had already been leaking pre-cum. She was too hot to be this hard already.

“You knew wearing that would catch my attention at school. Fuck, y/n, you’re just some being else — I haven’t even fucked you yet,” Eddie was surprised at how he felt about y/n in under twenty-four hours.

“I’m gonna make you mine, princess. Being pregnant in college isn’t too bad right? Wasn’t one of the female singers pregnant in college too?” Eddie asked the slightly uncomfortable woman as he slowly pushed at her entrance.

“Doesn’t matter — You’d look amazing with my kids. I’ll give you more than one — That’ll show Jason not to mess with me again,”

Eddie had gone too delusional by now. He thought that impregnated y/n would make Jason upset that his plan didn’t work, or show y/n that playing with a man isn’t a good idea.

“E-Eddie,” y/n cried low as he filled her with every inch. He wasted no time to begin his thrust and taunt y/n for her moans that she couldn’t hold back. He was huge and reached every good area y/n couldn’t even reach with her toys.

“You like it? C’mon, baby, tell me you like it. I’ll be fuckin’ you every day to show you who I am. If you thought you could make a fool out of me, then you were wrong, princess. So fuckin’ wrong. I’ll show you,”

57 notes · View notes

jinhyun · 55 minutes ago

Text

—lost in translation.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader

genre: a little angst, fluff, best friend’s little brother au, friends to lovers, pininggggg, miscommunication (gone right?)

word count: 5.2k

summary: hyunjin needed answers and he needed them now. even if it meant showing up at your place late at night with a few drinks in his system, ready for things to go either terribly wrong or incredibly right.

warnings: miscommunication, mentions of alcohol and drinking

author’s note: hellooo, and thank you so much for being so patient<3 this is part 23 of my social media au “heart out”. part 24 will be written as well, so don’t worry if there were a few things left unsaid in this one lol. as always, i hope you guys enjoy! if you do, please don’t forget to leave an ask or a comment telling me your thoughts on it<3

Hyunjin was usually a very chill and spontaneous person. He did things when he felt like it, without really giving it much thought. If he wanted to do something and it felt right, then why would he hold back? He could always deal with the consequences of his own actions later.

When it came to you, however, he was the complete opposite.

Ever since he met you, he had been tiptoeing his way around your heart.

He wanted to do things right when it came to you, and, as a result, his interactions with you throughout the years tended to end up with him overthinking instead of doing.

Starting with him hiding his feelings and keeping his interactions with you to the minimum when he was still a high schooler, to him still hiding his feelings while trying to get closer to you when he entered university, to then still say nothing about them when you started dating Mingyu, up until now, that he finally got another shot at getting close to you, yet he still refused to confess his feelings until you were ready to hear it.

And that was the thing, if it were up to him and acting accordingly to how he felt in the moment, he would’ve confessed a long time ago — probably back in his first year of university, particularly when he found out you and Mingyu were dating and he felt like calling you up and letting it all out. But he wouldn’t, because although it would be a huge weight to get off his shoulders, he wouldn’t want you to deal with the burden of knowing he loved you when you didn’t love him back; not like that, at least.

He wouldn’t confess, because he didn’t want you to feel bad for not being there just yet, if ever.

He didn’t want to ruin what the two of you had because of a whim, and so he decided to deal with his feelings on his own. Until he knew for sure that you were ready to hear a confession from him, he wouldn’t say the words out loud to you.

Of course, that was up until this evening.

After coming to the conclusion that Dahye had followed her word and told you about his feelings for you, and having you distance yourself from him ever since, which could only mean you didn’t feel the same and were preparing to turn him down; and, furthermore, after hearing from Yeji that you wouldn’t mind going out with her twenty three year old coworker once you were ready to date again, there was no room in his head for him to think of the consequences of confessing to you anymore.

If you were turning him down anyway, if you were going out with someone else anyway… if he was losing you anyway, then what did he have to lose by finally letting you know how deeply he felt for you?

Maybe it was the alcohol he’d been consuming with his friends that night, or maybe it was just him simply not giving a fuck anymore — maybe both.

Whatever it was, it was giving him the final push he needed, for he was now standing outside your building, ignoring the freezing breeze of the night —as the black cotton sportswear he was wearing did little to nothing to keep him warm—, while he desperately texted you in hopes of you being awake and letting him come up, so you would finally get to talk and turn him down if that’s what you wanted to do in the end.

If you were turning him down at one point in the next two days, he would rather have you do it now.

He felt like he was going insane; like no matter what the outcome was, whether you turned him down or not, he would collapse if he didn’t get an answer within the next few minutes.

When you wouldn’t answer his texts and there were no signs of you being online, he decided to call you instead. He wasn’t giving up that easily that night, if at all.

It only took one missed call and ten more seconds waiting on the line for you to pick up.

“Hyunie?” Your sleepy yet worried voice was enough to quiet his running thoughts down. “Something happened? Are you alright?”

He stayed silent for a moment, staring up at your window.

“Hyunie?” You repeated. He heard you shift in your bed, and then he saw the light in your room turn on. “Are you there?”

“Can I come up?” He asked quietly.

Silence filled the line for a moment. “What?”

“I texted you… I think you didn’t see it” he explained. “I’m outside your building. Can I please come up? I know it’s late, but I need to talk to you now”.

“Y-Yeah… of course” you failed to hide how taken aback you were. “Help yourself in”.

“Okay…”

Hanging up, his eyes went to the front door to your building, and he suddenly felt the weight of what was about to come on his shoulders. But he was already here, and even if he turned around and went home instead, he knew he would not be able to sleep for the second night in a row as long as he didn’t clear things up with you.

He was already here and you were waiting for him upstairs, so he might as well rushed up to you.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡

Entering the passcode he knew by heart, he made his way into your place; taking off his shoes and putting on the slippers you kept by the door for your guests, which he knew were pretty much his by now.

As expected, all the lights were out except from the one in your bedroom, where he caught you coming out from.

He would never get tired of seeing you barefaced; and the slightly messy hair you were running your fingers through in a quick attempt to fix, along with the pastel pink silk pyjamas you were wearing, could only make him adore you even more. However, you looked tired, and he couldn’t help but feel bad for waking you up.

“Hey” he mumbled, suddenly feeling the madness inside his head calm down at the mere sight of you.

“Hey…” you softly greeted him back, leaning against your doorframe and resting your head on it. “Did something happen?”

He denied with his head, coming closer to you. “Just couldn’t wait anymore to talk to you, I’m sorry”.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, slightly frowning when you got a closer look at him. “Have you been drinking?”

A small, surprised pout formed on his lips. What gave it away? His eyes? Was he reeking of alcohol? Or did you know him so well that a simple look at him was enough for you to tell when something was off?

“Just had a few drinks with the boys, it’s nothing” he brushed it off.

“You didn’t drive here, did you?”

“No, of course not” he was the one to frown this time. “I’m fine, though”.

You said nothing, but he caught the hesitation in your eyes.

“I’m fine, Y/N” he reassured you one last time. “I didn’t drink that much anyway”.

Just enough for his inhibitions to shut down; not enough not to realise what he was doing.

“Okay…” you decided to believe him.

With a light tilt of your head, you invited him into your room, where the lightning was better — although the dim light coming from the white lamp on your nightstand could only make him feel sleepier.

You sat down on the edge of your unmade bed, as you’d been sleeping up until he called you, and motioned for him to do the same. Once he did, silence was fast to take over.

“Um… I’m not—I wasn’t really prepared to talk about this now,” you messily tried to come up with the right way to approach the issue. “So I don’t know where to begin, if I’m honest…”

He understood what you were feeling perfectly. In all honesty, although he had come all the way over here to get the answer he so badly needed, he, too, didn’t know where to begin.

There was so much to say, so much to ask, so many ways to word his questions, that his mind went blank.

So, he said the first thing he could think of right then.

“Dahye told you, didn’t she?”

You looked distressed at the mention of her, and that was enough for him to get the answer he was dreading. “Sorry?”

“She talked to you?” He rephrased it.

“Mhm…” you nodded, looking down to your lap. “She did”.

“And is that why you’ve been so distant?” Hyunjin asked carefully.

You nodded again, silently. “I’m sorry, I just needed some time to think” your eyes went back up to lock with his. “How’d you know she talked to me?”

“She kinda threatened me with telling you, so…” he rolled his eyes.

“Oh… that’s…”

Crazy. She was crazy.

Hyunjin nodded, not needing to hear any words coming out of your mouth to understand what you wanted to say. “I know. I should learn not to underestimate her”.

“Yeah, I probably should, too…” you smiled weakly. “Good thing I realised something was off and didn’t believe her in the end”.

“Wait, what?” His eyebrows furrowed.

Something was off? You didn’t believe her?

“I didn’t believe her,” you repeated. “I was a bit shaken up at first, and that’s why I took some distance from you. I just needed to think about it with a cold head, but all along I didn’t want to believe it was true, so ultimately I didn’t. It didn’t sound like you at all”.

Was he tripping? Was he really way more drunk than he thought for your words to make no sense to him?

“You didn’t… want to?” Hyunjin’s heart ached, mostly hung up on those words of yours. “Would it be that bad if it was true?”

“Yes,” you replied in a heartbeat. “I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t be able to let myself fall for you if that was the case, Hyunjin”.

I wouldn’t be able to let myself fall for you if Dahye will always be there and I knew you’d go back to her whenever you get tired of me; is what you meant.

It would be bad if it was true that you’re in love with me, because I wouldn’t be able to let myself fall for you and ever love you back; is what he heard.

Just like that, for the fourth time in his life, once again because of you, his heart broke.

Although he’d come here knowing well enough that getting turned down by you was a very high possibility, actually hearing you so tactlessly say those words to him right then, and getting every chance of ever being with you crushed into pieces just like that, had his heart hurting in a way it had never before.

Feeling physically ill and finding it hard to breathe, he stood up, pacing around your room for a few seconds before he looked for support on the wall by leaning his back on it.

This might’ve been his worst heartbreak yet, for unlike the previous times, he’d let himself be led on. This time, he really thought that there was something going on between the two of you. All the reciprocated flirting and touches… had it all been him? Did you really not realise what you’d been doing to him all along?

“Hyunie…” you whispered, feeling your own heart break at the sight of him and going up to him, unable to give into your own sorrow as he seemed to have just confirmed that what Dahye told you was indeed true.

He closed his eyes as he tilted his head up to keep the tears from coming out of them.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

He defeatedly shook his head when you placed your hand on his shoulder, rubbing his hands on his eyes to wipe the oncoming tears before he tried to walk away. “I’m sorry, this wasn’t a good—I can’t, I should leave” he apologised.

“So it’s true then?” You asked, grabbing his wrist for him to stay.

He shook his head no, and for just a moment there you felt relief, before he finally turned around and looked at you with reddened eyes. “Of course it’s true” his bottom lip trembled. “Why wouldn’t it be? Did I really get it all wrong?”

Your eyebrows knitted together, understanding this entire situation less and less by the second. “Get what wrong?”

“This,” he repeatedly pointed his finger from you to him. “Us. Whatever it is that I thought was going on between us”.

“Hyunjin…”

“I knew I was getting my hopes up too fast, but I thought,” he paused for a moment, shaking his head in disbelief over his own delusions. “All this time I thought what kept holding you back was our age gap, but turns out the problem was never my age, but me”.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’d be willing to go out with that one other guy who’s also my age, so it was clearly never the problem”.

“What guy?”

“You know what guy”.

“Felix?” You pinpointed, not really knowing any other guys his age. Not like you particularly knew Felix either anyway. “I’m not going out with him”.

“You said you wouldn’t mind him being twenty three, though”.

“Because I don’t care about age, not because I want to date him” you tried to defend yourself. “Weren’t you the one who told me to consider dating younger guys?”

“Exactly, I told you that. Me. I said it so you would at some point consider me, not so you would start looking at other guys my age” he clarified.

“Hyunjin, I’m not—Why does age suddenly matter so much to you?”

“Because if you’re willing to date a guy who’s three years younger than you, then why can’t it be me?!”

You froze.

During all the years you had known him, you had never seen him lose his temper. He was always calm, rational. Had he ever even raised his voice in your presence other than when he got excited about something?

This was a side of him you’d never seen before, and it broke you.

Seeing him look so hopeless and sound so defeated right then, made you feel like holding him and never let go of him.

Things were moving too fast, though, and when you wanted to reach for his face and wipe the tear that had just rolled down one of his cheeks, he beat you to it; harshly wiping his face with his hands, as he refused to look away from you.

“All this time I’ve done nothing but pour my heart out to you. I’m so… so fucking in love with you it hurts me, Y/N. There are times when it physically pains me to love you this much,” he confessed.

Right now, it was one of those times.

“I’ve done everything in my hands for you to stop seeing me like the teenage boy you met back then, for you to stop seeing me just like Yeji’s little brother, and I know you’re not ready for a relationship yet, but I was willing to wait for as long as you needed me to until you were, because I was delusional enough to believe that I could actually make you fall for me” a breathless, humorless laugh abandoned his lips. “And now it turns out you just won’t ever feel the way I feel for you, and this guy shows up out of nowhere and gets everything I’ve tried to get from you right away without even moving a finger, and I just… I don’t know where to go from here”.

Your heart squeezed inside your chest.

Of all the things you were expecting as the outcome of your talk, a confession wasn’t one of them. Not this kind of confession, at least.

You were speechless. Not only did you not know what to say, but even if you did, you were sure your voice would betray you by not coming out when you opened your mouth.

Hyunjin loved you.

It wasn’t just a crush like you thought. It wasn’t him looking for something casual like you feared. No, he loved you. He was serious about you.

Why did you feel so happy yet so afraid about his feelings for you being so strong?

He took a step towards you, and you felt your heartbeat raise when his face was only a couple of inches away from yours and his breathing began to mix with yours.

“I don’t wanna give up on you, Y/N, I don’t. But I just don’t kn—What do I have to do for you to consider me?” He asked, pulling you closer by your waist. “What does he have that I don’t?”

“I’m not going out with him, Hyunjin” you repeated in a whisper, hoping this time he would believe you.

Whether he believed you or not, he leaned in closer, faintly brushing his nose with yours. “What do I have to do for you to give me a chance then?”

“Hyun…”

“I’ll do anything,” he said, cupping your face and making you lock eyes with him. “Just tell me what and I’ll do it”.

You slowly shook your head no, unable to get any kind of word out of your mouth. Was it not obvious enough already that you did feel something for him? Had the way you talked to him and how you acted around him not been enough for him to get that you liked him as something more than just a friend? As way more than just your best friend’s brother?

You couldn’t find the right words to tell him that. The only thing you could do was to stare into his eyes, and then down into his lips, feeling the tension between the two of you grow by the second.

Hyunjin caught up on that immediately, leaning closer, so he could brush his mouth on yours for a second, before he closed the gap that kept them from touching.

Only you beat him to it.

Had you waited one more second, he would’ve been the one to press his lips on yours.

But you did not.

Instead, you were the one to press your mouth on his.

You were the one to kiss him first.

You were kissing him.

And he froze.

His right hand was still cupping your face, his left one remained on your waist, and his eyes had naturally closed the moment he felt the heavenly pressure of your lips on his. But he froze nevertheless.

For the first few seconds, he was too stunned, too overwhelmed —in the best way possible— to even react. And, unfortunately, a few seconds was all the kiss lasted; for he missed your touch right when he was about to kiss you back.

“I’m sorry” you apologised right as you pulled away and covered your mouth with your hands, as if only then coming to your senses. “Hyunie, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t—”

That was as much as you got to say, for in a second he had already removed your hands from your mouth and replaced them with his lips.

You’d be damned if you thought you could get away with letting him get a taste of your lips only to deprive him of you all over again.

You kissed him back right away, going against your poorly attempted apology, and driving him crazy when you wrapped your arms over his shoulders. His hands that had been previously cupping your face were now on your waist, pulling you closer to his body as he tried to feel you as close to him as he could.

He kissed you like he needed you, like he’d been deprived of you for decades and was only now allowed to get a taste of you; and yet, he managed to be so gentle that you were left craving more by the second, whilst wanting him to kiss you just like that for a little longer.

After all, you didn’t know he had been dreaming of this moment for nearly seven years now.

Just like you, he, too, started wanting more. Pulling your hips harder against his and getting a small gasp of yours to part your lips, he took the chance to delve his tongue in your mouth — unable to keep the corners of his lips to curve slightly up when he felt your tongue massage his right back.

With your breathings becoming heavier, and without even dreaming of letting go of your lips just yet, Hyunjin made you take a couple of steps back, until your legs reached your bed and you instinctively sat down on it, allowing him to lean over you as he followed your mouth.

“You’re drunk…” you managed to whisper, right after you laid back on the mattress and his mouth sucked on your bottom lip once more.

“I’m fine, I’m fin—I’m perfect” he whispered in between kisses.

He was perfect. Being with you like this, with him hovering over you while your fingers gently dug into his hair and your mouths so deliciously sucked on each other, he could not be anything other than perfect.

Kissing you felt like a dream, and a part of him was afraid that it was one.

“No, Hyunjin…” you mumbled, only a couple of seconds later. “We shouldn’t be doing this…”

“Why not?” He asked, pulling slightly away from you — not enough for your lips to stop brushing.

“I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship right now” you confessed what his sister had told him earlier that night and, therefore, what he already knew. “I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t have kissed you”.

“No, don’t be sorry for kissing me. Anything but that, Y/N. You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted to kiss you all this time” he tenderly ran his thumb up and down on your cheekbone. “I can wait until you’re ready. Starting tomorrow morning I’ll wait all you need me to, but right now just… let me kiss you for a little longer”.

Having him whisper those words when his mouth was faintly touching yours, could only make you feel yourself give in to his plea.

“Hm?” He asked, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb. “One more and I’ll stop”.

Unable to speak, as it seemed to be the norm that night, you closed your eyes; and that was enough for him to take the hint and replace the thumb on your bottom lip with his mouth, sweetly sucking on it before he softly traced it with his tongue, for you to let him in and meet him midway.

The desperation of your second kiss was no longer there, as he now took his time to engrave in his memory every single second of your mouth sucking on his and your tongue massaging his own. He didn’t know when he would ever get to kiss you again, after all, and he wanted to take in as much as he could of it.

He wanted to take his time now; and kiss you slowly, deeply, lovingly.

When you were both left panting for air, he rested his forehead on yours, cupping your nape with his hand and digging his fingers in your hair before he hid his face in the crook of your neck, as a breathy laugh abandoned his mouth.

“You’re driving me crazy” he confessed.

“I should be the one saying that,” you chuckled rather sadly. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me anymore, Hyunjin…”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re confusing me so much right now. You say you love me and you make me feel so special, but then you go and…” you sighed, feeling him slowly withdraw his face from your neck as he tried to understand your point. “I wish it was that easy, but I can’t let myself fall for you now that I know what Dahye said is true”.

“I swear you’re making me question how much I actually drank, because that doesn’t make any sense and—You can’t do this to me, Y/N” his piercing eyes fixed on yours, and the way his voice sounded so calm now could only make your body tense up under him. “You can’t just kiss me and then tell me that…” he sighed, attempting to collect his thoughts. “If you don’t feel ready for a relationship I get it, and I’ll wait. I’ll wait for as long as you need me to, baby, that’s never been a problem. But you can’t just tell me that you’ll never love me back and then kiss me only to turn m—”

“When did I ever say I’d never love you back?” You questioned.

“When we were talking earlier?” He tilted his head in confusion. “I asked you if it would be so bad if what Dahye told you was true and you said yes”.

“Yes,” you agreed. “Because I can’t put myself through the hell your messy relationship with her would bring me”.

His eyebrows knitted together. “What messy relationship?”

“You know…” you avoided his eyes, only then being hit with how much the thought of him with someone else actually affected you. “This whole ‘fuck buddies’ thing and you going back to her no matter who you are with”.

“That’s ridiculous” he blurted out, almost offended that such an atrocity had just left your mouth. “Where did you even get that from?”

“That’s what Dahye told me” you said.

“That’s what…” the puzzle pieces finally connected in his head. “Is that why you said you wouldn’t be able to fall for me?”

“Yes?” You tilted your head questioningly. “Isn’t that what we were talking about all along?”

He should be mad at Dahye right then. He should want to scream at her for playing with the two of you like this.

Any other time, he would’ve been fuming. Right then, however, with your troubled expression as you didn’t get what was going on, with your pretty lips all swollen from how hard he’d been kissing you up until a minute ago, and having experienced such a wide range of emotions in a matter of minutes, he could only laugh.

Tilting his head back and letting a throaty laugh escape his mouth, he slumped back next to you on your mattress and covered his face with both hands, as he let his laughter take over him.

Nervousness, madness, embarrassment, relief, happiness; it was all mixed up into one loud, painful laughing fit.

He felt like a maniac, feeling you stare at him in worry and obliviousness, but he couldn’t find it in him to stop laughing.

“What’s so funny?” You wondered when he struggled to catch his breath.

“She lied” he explained, finally feeling like his laughter was coming to an end.

“She lied?”

“She lied” he confirmed, removing his hands from his face and wiping a couple of tears off his eyes before he locked them with you. “I don’t like her at all, Y/N. We hardly ever even talk, why would I—” he took in a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling as he felt like he was going crazy. “Can’t believe I cried for nothing”.

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your mouth, both over his last remark and over how relieved you felt to know it was all been a misunderstanding, and that you had been right not to believe her in the first place.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t clear enough” you pouted, gently cupping his face when he turned to you.

He shook his head no, letting you know it was okay as he placed his hand on yours. “I didn’t specify either, so I was at fault, too” he smiled softly. “And we probably wouldn’t have ended up kissing if I hadn’t gotten so heated up anyway, so it was totally worth it”.

“You’re an idiot” you laughed once again, smiling when he leaned in and rested his forehead on yours.

“You still kissed me, though” he pointed out, bringing some heat to your cheeks. “Does that mean I actually have a chance now?”

“Was me kissing you not a good enough answer to that?”

“Kisses can mean nothing to some people, so…”

“I’m not one of those people, Hyunie” you let him know.

“Good,” he smiled, pulling you to his chest. “Because kissing you meant everything to me”.

You wrapped an arm around him, nuzzling the fabric of the black sweatshirt he was wearing and taking in his scent you loved so much.

“Shouldn’t we properly talk about what Dahye told us?” You mumbled.

“That, and about where we’re standing now, too” he agreed, sweetly tracing his fingertips up and down your back. “My head hurts now, though. I feel like I’m spiraling, I went through too many emotions in too little time”.

You giggled, looking up at him. “You want to continue this conversation tomorrow? When we’re both a little less overwhelmed?”

“Yeah…” he nodded. “I can sleep peacefully now that I know you feel something for me, too”.

You chuckled, making his bottom lip stick out in confusion when you pulled away from him and sat up on your bed. “It’s late, you can sleep here tonight. I’ll take the couch”.

He grabbed your wrist before you could get up. “Stay with me?”

“Hyun…” you hesitated.

“I won’t try anything, I promise” he was fast to say, well aware of where your hesitation was coming from. “Just need to feel you close tonight”.

If he was honest, any other time, he would’ve offered to take the couch and that would’ve been the end of it, but tonight he really needed your closeness. He needed to know you were there, to feel you next to him. And, thankfully for him, you needed just the same.

Silently motioning for him to get under the covers, you let him know you agreed to his request. He smiled widely, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek before he did as told — making you laugh wholeheartedly when you got under the sheets as well and he wasted no time to pull you to his chest again and to tuck you in with him.

This entire day had been a mess. Hell, the whole fucking week had been unbearable. But you had been able to talk it out at last. Although messily, you now seemed to be on the same page about everything; from your feelings, to what you were looking for, to where the whole misunderstanding had originated.

This may not have been the conversation the two of you were expecting to have, but it was coming soon enough. Tonight, you could just go to sleep in each other’s arms, knowing what each other’s lips felt and tasted like, and with the certainty that your feelings were reciprocated.

Neither of you would have it any other way.

tag list: @jehhskz @iknowyouknowminho @doohnut @saintcosette @lailac13 @kayleefriedchicken @rikibun @yongbokkiesworld @seungzsmin @beautifulcolorgarden @hyunetopia @velvetmoonlght @automaticpersonabatpaper @httpdwaekki @brinnalaine @wondering-out-loud @feelikecinderella @nujeskz @amarecerasus @liknws @nhyunn @midsoulz @tirena1 @tinyelfperson @thatonexcgirl @iovecb97 @hynier @phenomenalgirl9 @your-favorite-pirate @jin-from-the-block @yearofthetiger25 @quokkacidal @stayconnecteed @kwanisms @yoonguurt @143hyunes @iiriam @cookielixie @hyunlvrs @allyrarara @machaandlofi @mehli-00 @justiceforvillains @minhosprettywife @whats-my-question @armystay89 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @hyeon-yi @skzstannie @onlyhyunjin

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sillygoose067 · 3 days ago

Text

A Masked Promise

Ch.20

Dick Grayson(Nightwing) x Reader

You both had settled into the couch, the empty plates from breakfast still on the coffee table, while a soft, mellow playlist played in the background. Dick had settled in next to you, his arm casually resting behind you, and you found yourself sinking into his side, your head resting lightly on his shoulder.

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence before you felt a tug in your chest. There was something you’d been meaning to bring up, something that had been sitting in your mind for the past few days. It wasn’t that you were uncomfortable with Dick—it was the opposite, actually. You felt incredibly safe with him, but this was a conversation you knew needed to happen. Your relationship, as wonderful as it had been so far, had reached a point where you both needed to discuss things you hadn’t even thought about until now.

You pulled back a little from his embrace, your heart fluttering nervously. "Gray?" you began, your voice quieter than you intended.

He glanced down at you, brow furrowing slightly in concern, as if he could sense your shift in mood. "Mmm, what’s up?" His tone was soft and attentive, and you couldn’t help but appreciate how patient he always seemed to be with you.

You fidgeted with your hands in your lap, not quite sure how to start. "There’s… something I’ve been thinking about." You could already feel the flush creeping up your neck, your heart pounding as you hesitated.

Dick remained silent, but you could feel him waiting, his presence warm and encouraging, urging you to continue.

"I don’t… I don’t know how to say this," you mumbled, nervously glancing away. "But I think we need to talk about… well, about us. More specifically, about... intimacy."

Dick's eyebrows rose slightly in surprise, but his expression quickly shifted to something more careful, understanding. “Ah.”

“I just thought,” you continued quickly, your words tumbling out in an effort to fill the silence, “that it’d be good to, you know, set expectations. I don’t want there to be any confusion, and… well, I’m not exactly experienced. Like, at all.”

His lips quirked into a soft smile, but he didn’t interrupt.

“You know that already,” you said, your voice quieter now. “But I’ve been thinking about how things have been going with us, and I feel like I should say it out loud. I don’t want my first time to be… careless or rushed. Like—like in the back of a car or something, like my friend from high school did with her boyfriend of two months.”

Dick let out a low chuckle, his fingers brushing lightly over yours. “The back of a car? I can promise you, that’s not my style.”

Relief bubbled up as you laughed softly, his playful tone easing some of your tension. “Good to know,” you said, finally daring to meet his gaze again.

He reached out, cupping your cheek gently, his thumb brushing over your skin. “I get it. And I want you to know that I’m not in any rush, okay? I don’t want this to feel like something you have to overthink or stress about.”

You nodded, leaning into his touch. “I know. I just… I want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“We are,” he assured you. But then his expression shifted, a more serious glint entering his eyes. “Since we’re being honest, there are things I didn’t love in the past, either. Times when it felt like there wasn’t enough communication, and that made things messy.”

You tilted your head curiously, your fingers instinctively finding his hand. “Messy how?”

He shrugged lightly, his tone thoughtful. “It wasn’t always clear what we wanted from each other, and that led to situations where I felt like I was… I don’t know, guessing. That’s why I want us to always talk about this stuff. I don’t want any misunderstandings between us.”

“That makes sense,” you said softly. “I don’t think I’d be good at guessing, anyway.”

He paused, as though weighing his next words carefully. "For me, I’ve learned that it’s better to wait for the right person, the right time, instead of just doing it because it feels like you’re supposed to. Trust me, I’ve been there before."

Your eyes widened slightly. "Wait, what do you mean?"

He leaned back against the couch, rubbing his hand through his hair as he glanced away. "Before I met you, I had some experiences that I’m not proud of. I was younger, trying to figure things out, but I rushed into things because I felt like I should. In the end, none of those moments really meant anything. They were just... impulsive, and I regret it." He met your eyes, his gaze serious. "But with you? I don’t want that. I want to make sure we’re both ready for whatever comes next."

You felt a surge of relief at his honesty, the weight on your chest slowly lifting. You hadn’t expected him to share his own experiences, but it made you feel like you weren’t alone in how you were feeling.

"You’re right," you said softly. "I just want it to be with someone who cares, someone who understands me."

That earned another laugh from him, his thumb brushing your knuckles now.

For a moment, silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was full of unspoken understanding, the kind that made you feel lighter somehow.

“I appreciate you telling me this,” he said, breaking the quiet. “It takes guts to bring up something like this.”

Immediately, a soft blush painted your cheeks. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, but you felt his gaze on you, warm and patient.

For a moment, he said nothing. You could feel your heart rate pick up, the silence stretching out like an eternity.

You smiled, your heart fluttering as his words sank in. You leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of him beside you. "Thanks, Gray."

"Anytime," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

For a few moments, you both sat there, the quiet comfort of his presence wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. The conversation had been nerve-wracking, but it felt good to have it out in the open. No more guessing, no more pressure. Just two people, learning to navigate this new and intimate part of their relationship, together.

As the quiet stretched on, you turned to him, a small smile playing on your lips. "So, what do we do now?" you asked, a teasing note in your voice.

Dick's grin widened, his eyes twinkling. "Well, for starters, we can just enjoy the day, no rush, no pressure." He leaned in, brushing a soft kiss against your lips. "And when you’re ready... we’ll take the next step."

You felt your heart swell as you kissed him back, the comfort of his presence and his words settling deep in your chest.

"Gray..." you started, your voice quiet again, but this time it held a certain edge to it. Something soft, but with an unmistakable depth.

His hand, which had been resting on your knee, slid up to your thigh, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin as he turned his head to look at you. “Yeah?” His voice was low, careful, but you could hear the curiosity beneath the calm.

You hesitated for a split second, then took a deep breath, looking up at him, your eyes slightly narrowed in playful determination. “I think... I think I might be ready for that next step, just a little more, you know?”

Dick raised an eyebrow, a small, intrigued smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Oh?"

You bit your lip, fighting back a nervous grin, but the excitement in your chest couldn't be contained. “I mean... we’ve had the talk, so that’s out of the way. But I think I’d like to try doing other things."

His eyebrows arched higher, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Other things?” he repeated, clearly amused now. "Care to elaborate?"

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as your gaze flickered down to where his fingers were tracing the skin of your leg. The simple touch made your pulse quicken, and you pushed through the flurry of shyness that threatened to overtake you. "I don't mean... you know, everything," you said with a shy laugh, the words barely escaping your lips as you tried to keep the conversation light. "But... more than just talking. Maybe... exploring a little. Testing out what we like, what feels good—" you let your eyes flicker up to his face, watching his reaction, "without rushing into anything we’re not ready for."

Dick's expression softened, the playful smirk turning into something warmer, but there was still a mischievous spark in his eyes. "So, you're saying you're not ready to run before we’ve learned how to walk?"

You nodded, a soft laugh escaping you. "Exactly. I mean, why rush? We can figure out what works."

"Wow, you could've told me you were an expert in romance, y'know, before we had the whole talk," he says with a playful smirk, earning a light smack on the chest from you.

His hand, which had been resting on your leg, shifted, fingers gently tracing the curve of your knee before moving back to your thigh. His touch lingered for just a moment longer than usual, and you could feel the way his fingers grazed the sensitive skin beneath your clothes. The tension between you thickened, but in the best possible way.

“You’re right,” he murmured, voice low, a playful yet sultry undertone there. “We’ve got all day to explore what works for us. And I have to admit... the thought of you in my arms while we figure this out...” He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Sounds pretty damn enticing."

Your pulse fluttered as his words washed over you. You found yourself biting your lip again, this time with an entirely different sort of anticipation. “And maybe... maybe I’d be open to a little more than just cuddling... if you’re up for it."

Dick's eyes flickered to yours, and the intensity there was enough to make your breath hitch. "Trust me, I’m definitely up for it." His hand moved up your arm, then gently cupped your face, lifting your chin so you could meet his gaze. “But I want to make sure we’re on the same page. No pressure. Just... us, exploring things in our own time."

You leaned into his touch, nodding softly. "Exactly. Just... us. Together." The words were softer now, but the emotion behind them was clear. You wanted this—wanted him, but you wanted it to be meaningful. Slow, measured. The thrill was in the discovery, the little things that led up to more.

Dick leaned in slowly, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that sent a shiver down your spine. When he pulled back, his gaze was heated, yet affectionate, like he was waiting for you to say something more. You didn’t have to say anything else though. The connection between you was undeniable, and the air between you thickened with tension.

His voice was hushed, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Let’s see what we can discover, then."

———————————————————————————-

TAGLIST:

@mybones537 @thereeallink @ziziriaa-blog

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throatgoat4u · 3 days ago

Text

hold me again

previous parts: part one | part two

word count: 1.3 k

summary: in a desperate attempt to see you again, matt succumbs to something so pathetic, and foolish. returning to the park every single day.

warnings: angst, mentions of cheating, obsessive behavior, unhealthy relationships, mental heath issues (kinda).

a/n: this may feel like really really repetitive but that the point! it’s supposed to be repetitive to make it sadder. like the whole thing is just one big repetition for a reason. i hope you like it. this part is the one that makes me cry so i hope it does the same to you!

matt was sick to his stomach after the encounter he had with you. it made him overthink every single bit of his relationship with victoria. did he really want to be with her or was he just trying to fill the void that you had left in him. either way, he was overthinking.

one thing matt was positive about was that he needed to see you again—to talk to you again. so, that led him to return to that very park bench, every single day.

everyday—whether it was after filming a car video, or doing absolutely nothing—he’d go to the park, sit at that same bench, and wait.

all day, his thoughts were plagued by you. the park, that day, you walking away, it replayed over, and over in his head. the regret of letting you go a second time weighed heavily on him. he was desperate to see you again. he knew you’d be mad if he showed up at the restaurant where you worked as a waitress, or at your apartment. so the bench was the next best thing he could manage.

at this point, going to the park was second nature; it was in his routine. on a busy day, he’d wake up, do all his work, and then immediately rush to the park and sit at the bench for the remainder of the day. on a not-so-busy day, the moment he finished his morning routine, he’d head to the park. matt was usually the type to wake up at around 1pm. but now? now he woke up at 8:30 every morning so he could get whatever it was that he had to do done so that he could spend the rest of the day there.

he’d go, sit on the same bench, and pray. he’d pray, and pray, and pray that you would show up. he didn’t know if you would—he was more than sure you wouldn’t—but he always kept hope in his heart that you would. the thought of you never returning, the thought of never being able to see you again, drove him insane. so instead, he’d sit there, and the whole time, to distract himself from reality, he’d make up scenarios in his head. some scenarios were about what would happen when you’d come back. he’d imagine you in that same white dress, running up to him with that beautiful smile on your face and giving him a big kiss, telling him you missed him. other times, he’d imagine the life you two could’ve had if he had never done what he did. he missed you. all this time, he missed you. but he could never admit it to anyone. he could never tell a soul how much he wanted to see you again.

the entire time, he was filled with hope. he’d always come to the park, ready, and hopeful—beaming with excitement as he sat down, and waited. though, the results were always the same. complete and utter disappointment.

but matt—being matt— was stubborn. the constant disappointment was not going to deter him. if anything, it fueled his resolve. every time he came home, he told himself tomorrow was going to be the day. tomorrow you’d show, and it would all be worth it. he held onto that thought like it was a lifeline, even as the days turned into weeks.

his friends began to notice his absence from their usual outings, and victoria… well, she was beginning to piece things together. she confronted him quite a few times, asking why he was always gone, and why he seemed so distant lately. his answer was always the same, he was working. it wasn’t all a lie, he reasoned. waiting for you was work. grueling, heart-wrenching, and entirely self-imposed, but work nonetheless.

this continued for a while. him coming home late, victoria confronting him, him using the same excuse, and then them getting into an argument. victoria couldn’t take it anymore, she was sure he was cheating. so she packed all her stuff into bags, wrote him a letter, leaving it on the table, and left.

when matt came home that night, he saw the letter on the table. all he needed to read was the first sentence before he stopped caring. over the few weeks he spent at the park bench, his love for her had slowly started to fade as he realized it was you he loved. it always has been you, it always will be you.

soon enough, the weeks were turning into months. where were you? there’s no way you haven’t once been to the park. the thought gnawed at him day and night. maybe he had missed you. maybe he had gone for a coffee run at the wrong time, or had left a minute too early. nonetheless, those thoughts were eating him alive. the possibility of him missing you haunted him, and he started to grow paranoid. so—like any logical human being—he started to stay longer, arriving earlier, leaving later, completely cutting his coffee runs out of the schedule. even then, he never saw you—you never showed.

matt was slowly going insane. he started to analyze the faces of passersby, just incase one of them was you in disguise. it sounded ridiculous, but at this point, matt wasn’t necessarily running on logic anymore. he was running on the need to see you, hug you, hold you. he knew he was driving himself to insanity, but he found himself caring less and less about his own personal being.

december was slowly approaching but that didn’t stop him. he started wearing more and more layers. base layers, two long sleeve t shirts, a hoodie, a jacket, and then a coat on top. he wasn’t going to give up. he couldn’t… he couldn’t.

the park was dusted with snow. it was cold, and dark, but matt still sat there, not budging even if he was still shivering through all his layers. there was no way you’d show. why would you be at a park in this freezing weather? but his paranoia—the small voice in his head—kept him there. he was fearful that the second he’d get up, and leave, you’d magically appear at the bench. so he waited. he waited for you to magically appear.

his teeth had began to chatter, his nose turned red, and his lips blue. he could barely feel any part of his body, especially not his ass. he shoved his gloved hands into the pockets of his coat and pulled the hood up over his beanie, but it did little to warm him up. he was going to get hypothermia at this rate.

he really should’ve gone by now, he knew he should’ve been gone hours ago. but, he couldn’t bring himself to get up, he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving right before you came. so he remained seated. his leg bouncing up and down, trying to get some movement in that would hopefully warm up his body.

the world around him seemed to slow as the biting cold settled deeper into his bones. matt’s breath puffed out in visible clouds of smoke, the only sign of him still being alive and stubbornly clinging to hope. he tried to distract himself, playing back his memories of you—your laugh, the way your eyes lit up when you were excited about something, the way you’d sound saying his name. it wasn’t enough to keep the cold away, but it was enough to keep him there.

“hey are you alright?” a familiar voice from behind him called out.

he froze in an instant. that voice… no… no, it couldn’t be. could it? could it really be you?

he turned his head around, looking at the face that matched the voice. it was her. it was his girl, his doll. it was the girl he had spent almost a year and a half at a bench for. it was the girl he longed for every second of the day.

his chest tightened, and for a moment, he thought he might actually stop breathing. you were standing there, looking just as he remembered—maybe even better, if that was even possible. the cold had painted a faint blush over your cheeks, snowflakes speckled in your hair, sparkling like tiny stars under the dim light.

it was you. it was really you.

a/n: i know the breakup with matt and veronica isn't long, i just needed her out of the way and could not be bothered with writing a long ass breakup.

toodles sluts :)

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yassbishimvintage · 18 hours ago

Text

No Questions (Studio pt 3 )

MDNI!

Warnings: Fluff, Smut

A/N: This is for the grown and sexy. And I admit you might be slightly pissed with Amari.

Brendan was doing a small tour circuit in Chicago. She heard her phone ring. B had sent her a first class ticket to where he’s at. Amari’s eyes widened as she stared at the message that had just come through. She quickly unlocked her phone to see the ticket notification. It was a first-class plane ticket to the city Brendan was staying in, with the departure time only a few hours away.

She blinked a few times, reading the details again, still not quite processing what she was seeing. Brendan sent me a ticket?

Her mind raced. He had been in touch with her all week, sending sweet texts and checking in, but this—this felt like a bigger step. Was he trying to move things forward? Or was this just another grand gesture in a series of them?

She felt her heart start to race. On one hand, the idea of getting away for a little bit, having some time with Brendan, was tempting. But on the other hand, she couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. Things had been moving fast, and now this—an unexpected trip, an invitation to step into his world a little deeper. It was a lot to process.

A few minutes passed as she sat in silence, staring at the phone. She could feel her palms sweating, and the little voice in her head was growing louder, questioning everything.

Just as she was about to overthink herself into indecision, her phone buzzed again with another text from Brendan.

“I know you’re busy, but if you can, come visit. I’d love to have you here. It’s just you and me. No work, no distractions. Think about it, but don’t think too long.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words. There was a warmth in his message, something that made her smile despite herself. She hadn’t expected him to make such a bold move, but it was clear he wanted her there.

Amari took a deep breath, her thoughts swirling. Could she go? Would this make things clearer between them, or would it complicate everything more?

She couldn’t help but feel a pull toward him. The way he made her feel—wanted, appreciated, understood. The idea of spending time with him without distractions sounded tempting, even if it came with its own set of risks.

With a small, determined sigh, Amari finally made her decision. She quickly typed out a reply.

“I’ll be there. I’m booking my flight now. Can’t wait to see you.”

She hit send, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she imagined what the next few days would bring.

Amari stepped off the plane, the cool air of Chicago greeting her as she made her way to baggage claim. The city’s skyline loomed in the distance, and she couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. It had been a spontaneous decision, but now that she was here, she felt a rush of anticipation.

She pulled up the message from Brendan, confirming the hotel where he was staying, and made her way toward the car service waiting for her. She didn’t have much time to dwell on her thoughts—her mind was too busy picturing what the next few hours would be like. The trip, the unspoken feelings, and the possibility of deepening their connection.

As she arrived at the hotel, the sleek, modern building towering before her, Amari’s heart picked up its pace. The lobby was immaculate, with polished floors and the faint scent of fresh flowers in the air. She walked up to the front desk and gave her name, her palms slightly clammy with the anticipation.

“Mr. Brendan’s expecting you,” the receptionist said with a warm smile before handing her the key to his suite. Amari took a deep breath, steadying herself as she walked toward the elevator.

When the doors opened to his floor, she could hear the faint hum of music from inside his suite. The familiar sound of Jacquees’ voice, one of his favorite artists, drifted through the cracks of the door. Amari smiled softly to herself—this was Brendan’s world, and she was about to step fully into it.

She knocked softly, waiting for him to answer. Her heart raced, each second feeling like it stretched into eternity. The door swung open, and there he was. Brendan, dressed casually, his hair slightly messy from a long day but still looking effortlessly good. His hazel eyes locked on hers, a playful smile curling at the corner of his lips.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” he teased, his voice warm with a touch of relief. “Glad you decided to.”

Amari couldn’t help but grin back. “You made it hard to say no,” she said, stepping into his space.

Brendan reached out, taking her luggage and setting it aside before pulling her into a tight hug. She could feel his warmth, his strength, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else mattered. Just the two of them, here together.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured into her ear.

Amari pulled back slightly, looking up at him. “Me too.”

His hand gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing across her skin as he looked at her with a tenderness that sent a shiver down her spine. It was a side of Brendan she hadn’t seen before—soft and affectionate, but with an intensity that felt real.

“Come on, let me show you around,” he said, taking her hand and leading her into the suite. It was spacious, with large windows offering a panoramic view of the city. The living area was comfortable yet luxurious, with a plush couch and a few personal touches scattered around—a couple of framed album covers, a guitar by the wall, and a few items that hinted at his musical life.

Amari let her gaze wander around the room, taking it all in. It was exactly as she imagined—stylish and lived-in, but still very much his. And now, it felt like a space she could share with him.

As Brendan showed her around, his presence felt grounding, and any lingering nerves began to melt away. They chatted about everything and nothing, finding comfort in the easy flow of their conversation.

After a while, Brendan moved toward the windows and gestured for her to come closer. “What do you think?” he asked, looking out at the sprawling city.

Amari joined him, her eyes tracing the lights below. “It’s beautiful. Big change from where I’m from, but I think I could get used to it.”

Brendan gave her a sly grin. “You might just get used to a lot of things while you’re here.”

Amari turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “I think you’re right about that.”

The chemistry between them was undeniable, and as they stood there, the air between them felt charged with the unspoken possibilities of what could come next.

Brendan looked at her, his expression softening. “I’m glad you’re here, Mari. Let’s just enjoy the time we have together.”

Amari nodded, her heart swelling. She didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time in a while, she felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

As Brendan kisses Amari softly, the connection between them deepens, and the tension that’s been building between them over the last few days is finally released in the warmth of the moment. His hand gently cups her face, his thumb tracing her jawline as their lips meet. The kiss is slow, deliberate—he wants to savor it, to let the uncertainty of their situation melt away, even if just for a while.

Amari, her heart racing, responds in kind, her hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath his shirt. It's the first time they've been so close since they both agreed to take things slow, and yet, the pull between them is undeniable.

As they pull back, she looks into his eyes, her breath shallow. "You sure this is what you want, B?" she asks softly, the hint of concern still lingering in her voice.

Brendan pauses, his gaze steady as he cups her face with both hands. "I'm sure," he says, his voice low and sincere. "With you, I’m sure."

He presses his forehead against hers. “Why are you so anxious about this relationship? You’re my girl.” He says.

Amari’s breath hitches at his words, her heart fluttering as his forehead presses against hers. His reassurance seems to ground her, but there’s still a gnawing hesitation within her. She lets out a quiet sigh, her hands resting on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips.

“I’m not anxious,” she begins, though the words feel less convincing than she intended. “It’s just... everything’s moving so fast. I don’t know if it’s just the thrill or something real.” She looks into his eyes, searching for answers, for something she can hold onto.

Brendan’s expression softens, and he gently tilts her chin up, guiding her to meet his gaze. “Mari,” he says, his voice calm yet firm, “it’s real. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. You’re not just some fling or a distraction. I want you. All of you.”

Amari swallows, her eyes glistening as she searches his face. It’s hard for her to fully let go of her doubts—after all, she’s been burned before, and trusting someone in his position felt like walking a fine line between security and instability.

But there’s something in the way he holds her, the way he’s always made her feel seen. Maybe, just maybe, she could trust this. Trust him.

“I just...” she starts again, her voice quieter, “I don’t want to lose what we have. This feels different, B.”

His smile softens, and he leans in to kiss her forehead gently. “You won’t lose me, Mari. I’ve got you. Always.”

He smiles. “Jump.” He says softly. She does and wraps her legs around his waist. This always made her feel safe.

Brendan’s arms immediately wrap around her, holding her securely as she jumps into him. Her legs instinctively encircle his waist, and she feels the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her chest. There’s something so grounding about this moment, about the way he makes her feel like she’s exactly where she’s supposed to be.

Her head rests against his shoulder, and she lets out a content sigh. The world outside might be fast-paced and uncertain, but right now, in his arms, everything feels calm, safe, and real.

Brendan chuckles softly, his voice a low hum against her ear. “I’ve got you, Mari. You don’t have to worry about anything when you’re with me.”

Amari smiles, her hands gently trailing down his back. “I know. It’s just hard sometimes, you know? But... when I’m like this, with you, I feel like everything will be okay.”

He tightens his hold on her for a moment, a silent promise passing between them. “That’s because it will be. We’ve got this, together.” He leans back slightly, just enough to look her in the eyes, his gaze warm and steady. “You don’t have to carry all that weight by yourself. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Amari’s heart swells, and she leans in to kiss him softly, grateful for his reassurance, for his presence in her life. For the first time in a while, she feels like she can truly exhale.

“Mari. You’re my home.” He says softly. Amari feels a warmth spread through her chest as his words sink in. "Home..." she whispers, the weight of his sentiment grounding her in a way nothing else could.

She pulls back slightly, searching his eyes to make sure she’s hearing him right. His gaze is steady, sincere, and filled with an intimacy she didn’t expect but deeply needed.

"I never thought I’d find that," she admits softly, her voice trembling just a little. "But when I’m with you, it’s like everything else just fades away. I feel like I belong. Like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be."

Brendan smiles, his hand cupping her cheek as he leans in to kiss her gently, the kind of kiss that speaks volumes without saying a word. When he pulls back, his voice is low but firm. "You do belong, Mari. With me. Always."

Her heart races, and she lets herself fall into the moment, feeling the weight of his words, the certainty in his touch. This is it—this is what she’s been searching for. A place, a person who makes everything feel like it’s falling into place.

With a soft smile, she rests her head against his chest again, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "I’m home too, B," she murmurs, closing her eyes, feeling a deep sense of peace settle over her. "I’m home with you."

“You better make this worth it. I had to cancel the rest of my appointments today.” She says.

Brendan chuckles softly, his lips brushing against her forehead as he adjusts his grip on her. "I’ll make it worth it, trust me." His voice is laced with a playful confidence that’s impossible to ignore. "You know I’m all about keeping my promises."

He slowly carries her to the couch, settling down with her in his lap, his hands tracing gentle patterns along her skin. The atmosphere between them shifts, an unspoken understanding passing through the air. It's more than just the physical chemistry that fuels this connection—it’s the quiet moments like these, where everything else fades into the background, and it’s just the two of them.

"You’ve worked hard, Mari," he says, his fingers dancing over her shoulders, massaging out the tension in her muscles. "You deserve a break. And I plan on giving you one... in every way possible."

She tilts her head back, allowing herself to relax into him. "You better," she says with a teasing smile, her voice soft but filled with that signature challenge she always throws his way. "I’m counting on you."

Brendan laughs softly, his lips curling into a grin. "Consider it done."

As they settle into the quiet comfort of the moment, Amari allows herself to let go, trusting in him to make this day, this time, worth every bit of the sacrifice she made. It feels right. She feels right. And for once, she’s letting herself simply enjoy it.

Amari slowly wakes up, the soft hotel sheets tangled around her as she stirs. The light filtering in from the window feels warm against her skin, but there's a strange emptiness in the room. She glances around, expecting to see Brendan by her side, but the bed is empty.

Confused, she stretches, trying to recall the events of last night, but everything feels a bit foggy—too much passion, too much heat. Still, she can't help but feel a tinge of unease as she notices the absence of his familiar presence.

She sits up, the cool air from the room hitting her skin as she checks the time on her phone. No messages, no calls. Her thoughts race—was it just a fleeting moment for him? Did he leave without a word?

Despite the confusion, Amari forces herself to shake it off. She quickly gets dressed, trying to push aside the doubts that are slowly creeping in. As she steps out into the hotel hallway, she hopes to find him, maybe to ask what happened, or maybe just to confirm that last night wasn’t something he wanted to erase.

Before she could she sees a card and another box on the table.

Amari pauses in the hallway, her eyes landing on the card and the box placed neatly on the table by the door. She feels a wave of curiosity wash over her as she approaches, her fingers brushing over the smooth surface of the card before she picks it up.

The card is simple—elegant with clean lines, and inside, written in Brendan’s familiar script, are a few words:

"I didn’t mean to leave you with so many questions. Let me explain when I get back. Enjoy the gift, it's a token of my appreciation for you. See you soon, B."

A sigh escapes her lips, the tension in her shoulders loosening slightly. He didn’t just leave without a word—he left a message, and it seemed genuine. But her mind still churns with questions. Why had he left so suddenly? Why didn’t he wake her?

Her attention shifts to the box beside the card. It’s carefully wrapped in sleek black paper with a metallic gold ribbon tied around it. A pang of uncertainty stirs in her chest, but she can’t help herself—she carefully unwraps the box, revealing a small velvet jewelry case inside.

Amari slowly opens it, her breath catching in her throat when she sees what’s inside—a delicate necklace with a custom pendant that reads "Mari" in elegant script. The sentiment is clear: this isn’t just a typical gift; it’s personal, thoughtful, and carries weight.

She runs her fingers over the pendant, a mixture of emotions swirling inside her. She feels touched but also unsure. What does this mean for them? Why does he feel the need to give her this now?

Amari sits down on the couch, the necklace still clutched in her hand as her mind races. She looks down at the pendant, tracing the curves of the letters with her fingertips. Her thoughts spiral, a jumble of emotions swirling together, making it hard to focus on any one feeling.

Why am I second-guessing this? she thinks, biting her lip as she reflects on everything that’s happened between her and Brendan.

At first, it all seemed effortless. There was chemistry, an undeniable pull that had brought them together so naturally. He was charming, funny, and caring when he wanted to be. But then there were the moments that gave her pause—the moments where he would vanish, or leave without a word, like last night. And the times he’d get distant or act like he was keeping a part of himself hidden. She had always told herself that she didn’t need to be the one to ask for explanations, but now she’s beginning to question if that was the right approach.

Is this just a whirlwind romance, or am I setting myself up for something deeper? she wonders. She feels a tension between what she knows—how much she cares for him—and the uncertainties that keep cropping up. She remembers how she told herself she wouldn’t let someone into her heart so easily again after her past. But with Brendan, it felt different. Or maybe it’s the fear of it not being different enough.

Am I falling for someone who isn’t ready to commit, or am I just overthinking things? The doubts cling to her thoughts like a fog, heavy and lingering.

Her phone buzzes in her lap, snapping her out of her reverie. It’s a text from Brendan.

"Miss you already. Can’t wait to see you tonight. I’ll make it up to you, I promise."

She stares at the message, her heart fluttering a bit at his words. Yet the feeling of uncertainty remains. Does he really mean it? Or is this just another fleeting moment in the rollercoaster of their relationship?

Amari sighs and drops the phone on the couch beside her, leaning back with her hand still wrapped around the necklace.

She wishes she could just have clarity. A sense of what’s real and what’s fleeting. The trust they shared feels genuine, but the insecurity in the pit of her stomach is hard to ignore.

When Brendan walks through the door that evening, Amari is still sitting on the couch, lost in her thoughts. The sound of his keys hitting the counter draws her attention, and before she can fully process it, he’s already crossing the room toward her.

He pulls her up from the couch and wraps his arms tightly around her, enveloping her in his warmth. His chin rests gently on her head, and she feels the rise and fall of his chest as he takes a deep breath.

"I missed you," he murmurs softly into her hair, his voice steady and reassuring.

For a moment, Amari lets herself melt into his embrace. The doubts and questions swirling in her mind feel smaller when she’s in his arms. His hug is grounding, like an anchor holding her steady against the tide of her own thoughts.

"You okay, Mari?" he asks, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes. His hazel gaze searches her face, concern etched into his features.

She nods but doesn’t say anything, afraid her voice might betray the mix of emotions she’s feeling. Brendan tilts his head, clearly not convinced.

"You’ve been quiet all day," he says, tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. "Talk to me. What’s on your mind?"

Amari hesitates, biting her lip as she considers whether now is the right time to bring up her feelings. But the tenderness in his eyes gives her a small push of courage.

"I just..." she starts, her voice soft. "I’ve been thinking about us. About where this is going."

Brendan frowns slightly, his hands still resting on her waist. "What do you mean? Did I do something to make you doubt how I feel about you?"

"It’s not just about you," she says quickly, shaking her head. "It’s me, too. I’m trying to figure out if I’m... ready for all of this. For us. Sometimes it feels like we’re moving so fast, and I’m scared I might get hurt."

Brendan’s expression softens, and he pulls her back into his arms, holding her even tighter this time. "Mari," he says, his voice steady but full of emotion. "You’re my girl. I don’t want you to feel like you have to question that. I know I’m not perfect, and yeah, this might be moving fast, but I don’t take what we have lightly. You’re not just someone to me. You’re everything."

His words hit her like a wave, washing over her doubts and leaving her feeling raw but reassured. She exhales deeply, letting herself sink into him again.

"I don’t want to lose you," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You won’t," Brendan says firmly. "I’m not going anywhere, Mari. We’ll figure this out together. One step at a time."

In that moment, wrapped in his arms, she decides to trust him. To trust them. Maybe it’s not all clear right now, but it doesn’t have to be. She just has to take it one step at a time, like he said.

Brendan pulls back slightly, his hands still resting on Amari's waist as he locks eyes with her. His tone is firm but gentle, grounding her in the moment.

"Amari," he says, his hazel eyes steady and unwavering. "We discussed this. I’m your boyfriend. You’re my girlfriend. That hasn’t changed. It won’t change."

She opens her mouth to respond but finds herself at a loss for words. The certainty in his voice, the way he says it like it’s the most obvious truth in the world, makes her chest tighten.

"I know," she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "It’s just..."

"It’s just what?" he presses softly, tilting his head as he studies her. "Tell me, baby. Don’t hold back."

Amari sighs, running a hand through her curls. "Sometimes I wonder if I’m enough for you. Your life is... big, B. You’re everywhere. Everyone knows you. And me? I’m just..."

"You’re just the woman I want," he interrupts firmly, cupping her face in his hands. "I don’t care about the rest. All of that—my career, the fame, the noise—it’s nothing if I don’t have you to come home to."

Her breath hitches, and she searches his face for any sign of doubt, but there’s none. Just honesty.

"You’re more than enough, Mari," he continues. "You’ve always been enough. And if you’re ever feeling like this again, you tell me, alright? I don’t want you sitting in your head overthinking. We’re in this together."

Amari swallows hard, nodding as her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. "Okay," she whispers.

"Good," Brendan says, his lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. "Because you’re stuck with me now. No take-backs."

That earns a soft laugh from her, and she leans into him, resting her forehead against his chest. His arms wrap around her again, holding her close, and for the first time in days, she feels the weight in her chest begin to lift.

Brendan's voice drops to a low, teasing murmur as his lips trail along the curve of Amari's neck. "Now," he begins, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine, "I have a way of enjoying you while we’re here."

Amari tilts her head slightly, giving him more access as her hands rest on his chest. "Oh, really?" she asks, her voice soft but laced with curiosity and a hint of amusement.

His lips curve into a smirk against her skin before he presses a series of slow, deliberate kisses along her collarbone. "Mhm," he hums. "No distractions, no interruptions—just you and me."

Amari’s fingers trail up to his shoulders, her heart pounding at the intensity in his voice. "And what exactly does that mean, Mr. Superstar?" she teases, though her breath hitches as he continues his exploration.

Brendan pulls back just enough to meet her gaze, his hazel eyes darkening with intent. "It means I want to focus on you, Mari. No cameras, no schedules, no outside noise. Just us, in this moment."

Her cheeks flush at the sincerity in his tone, and she bites her lip to suppress a smile. "Well, when you put it like that..."

He chuckles, his hands sliding down to her waist as he pulls her closer. "Then let me show you," he whispers, capturing her lips in a kiss that’s slow, deep, and filled with all the promises he doesn’t need words to express.

Amari stirs under the covers, her body still warm and buzzing from the hours spent with Brendan. She glances over at him, sprawled out beside her, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. A faint smile plays on her lips as she takes in his peaceful expression.

Then, the sharp buzz of his phone cuts through the quiet. Amari sighs, her muscles sore but satisfied, as she reaches over to the nightstand. "B," she murmurs softly, nudging his arm.

He groans in response, eyes barely cracking open. "What is it, baby?" he mumbles, voice rough from sleep.

"Your phone's going off," she says, holding it out to him. "Might be important."

Brendan takes the phone, squinting at the screen. His brows furrow as he reads the message, and he sits up slightly, running a hand through his hair.

"Everything okay?" Amari asks, her tone laced with curiosity and a touch of concern.

He sighs, placing the phone back on the nightstand. "Just my manager," he says, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "Nothing that can’t wait till morning."

Amari relaxes, her smile returning. "Good," she whispers, pulling him back down beside her. "Because I wasn’t done cuddling you yet."

Brendan chuckles, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. "You’re gonna ruin me, Mari," he says with a soft laugh.

"Guess we’re even then," she quips, burying her face in his chest.

Amari hears her phone buzz on the night stand. She opens her phone. And she sees she’s been tagged in a photo by Brendan. Coming from his stage page. It’s a picture of her on his bare chest sleep.

Amari’s heart skips a beat as she unlocks her phone and opens the notification. There it is—a photo Brendan posted from his official stage account. In the picture, she’s peacefully asleep, her head resting on his bare chest, the soft lighting in the room casting a serene glow over the intimate moment.

The caption reads: "My peace. My girl. 🖤 #NoQuestions"

Her eyes widen, and a mix of emotions floods her—surprise, embarrassment, and a strange, undeniable warmth. Brendan is private, especially when it comes to his personal life. For him to post something so intimate on his public page felt... monumental.

Amari’s cheeks flush as she glances at Brendan, who’s now propped up on his elbow, watching her reaction with a sly grin.

"You posted that?" she asks, holding the phone up.

"Yeah," he says nonchalantly, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief. "What? I can’t let the world know I got the baddest girl out there?"

She shakes her head, biting her lip to suppress a smile. "B... you know your fans are going to have a field day with this, right?"

He leans closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Let them. I want everyone to know who I come home to."

Amari sighs, leaning into his touch. "You’re really trying to make me fall even harder for you, huh?"

"That’s the plan," he says with a wink, pulling her into a kiss.

She was scrolling through the pictures. She stopped on the last one. Curious, Amari scrolls back to the last photo and reads the caption Brendan had posted beneath it:

"When she’s your peace and your muse all in one. #MyQueen #NoQuestions #AmariAndB"

Her lips part slightly as she rereads the words, her heart skipping a beat. It wasn’t just the pictures—he had put her at the center of his world, publicly claiming her in a way that left no room for doubt.

She glances over at Brendan, who’s lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone as if he hadn’t just sent the internet into a frenzy.

"B," she starts softly, catching his attention. "This caption..."

He looks up, his hazel eyes meeting hers with a calm intensity. "What about it?"

"It’s... a lot," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. "You’re really putting us out there like this."

Brendan sets his phone down and shifts to face her fully. "Amari, I don’t do anything halfway. You’re it for me. If the world knows it, then good. I’m not about to hide how I feel about you."

Her eyes soften as she takes in his sincerity. "You’re sure about this?"

He cups her face, brushing his thumb along her cheek. "More sure than I’ve ever been about anything. You’re my peace, Mari. And I want everyone to know it."

She exhales deeply, her chest swelling with emotion. "You really know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you?"

Brendan chuckles, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "Only because you are."

She smiles, resting her forehead against his. "Alright, fine. But if this blows up, you’re the one answering all the comments."

"Deal," he says with a smirk. "As long as I get to keep posting you."

Amari shakes her head with a laugh, knowing she’s already lost this battle. "You’re impossible, B."

"And you love it," he counters, pulling her into his arms.

She lets herself melt into him, silently admitting he’s right.

Tags 🏷️

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#yassbishimvintage writes #mid sized sedan #mid sized sedan x oc #mid sized sedan smut #mid sized sedan x black reader #mid sized sedan x black!oc #aaron pierre x black!oc #aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre #aaron pierre smut #Spotify

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obeymeshallwedateaddict · 11 hours ago

Text

Hello everyone!! This is the first lesson of the long awaited unofficial season 4 of Obey me Nightbringer written by yours truly <3

I will post lessons every 10 days.

I hope you enjoy it (it came out a little long but I hope it's not a problem)

Please make sure this finds other obey me lovers and people who don't want the series to end.

You can find more of my work here: Masterlist

@arie2faced wanted to be tagged so there you go!

Lesson 61: “Echoes of Change”

Preparations for the Grand Gala

The story begins with you and the brothers preparing for a grand event in the Devildom—the Infernal Gala, a highly anticipated celebration hosted by Diavolo to showcase unity and strength among the three realms. The brothers are busy with their individual tasks, and you help them throughout the day, making sure none of them are slacking off and checking the quality of their work.

Morning with Mammon

You find Mammon frantically trying to pick an outfit in his room, clothes scattered everywhere. He groans as he holds up a jacket, glaring at it like it personally offended him.

Mammon: “This stupid thing doesn’t fit right! What if I don’t look good enough? Diavolo’ll never let me hear the end of it!”

You: “You’re overthinking it, Mammon. You look great in anything.”

You pick up a sleek black jacket with gold trim from the pile and hold it up to him.

You: “Here, try this one. It suits you.”

Mammon grumbles but puts it on. When he turns to the mirror, his expression softens.

Mammon: “Huh. Guess it ain’t too bad… But y’know, it’s only ‘cause you picked it. You’ve got good taste.”

He pauses, scratching the back of his neck as he glances at you.

Mammon: “I dunno what I’d do without ya. Don’t tell the others, but… you’re my good luck charm, so stick close, alright?”

Afternoon with Leviathan

Levi is in his room, staring nervously at a stack of invitation cards. You peek in and see him pacing.

You: “Levi, what’s wrong?”

Leviathan: “It’s the Gala! There’s gonna be so many people there. What if I mess up? What if someone tries to talk to me and I freeze up?!”

You gently take his hands, grounding him.

You: “You’ll do great, Levi. And I’ll be there if you need me. We’re a team, remember?”

Levi calms down a little, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

Leviathan: “Y-Yeah, I guess you’re right. I mean, with you around, I don’t have to worry as much. You’re like my Player Two in this crazy multiplayer game called life.”

He hesitates, then smiles shyly.

Leviathan: “Thanks. I mean it. You’re, like… my favorite rare find.”

Library with Satan

Satan is in the library, scanning a shelf filled with ancient tomes. He looks up when you enter, a small smile playing on his lips.

Satan: “Perfect timing. I was looking for this.”

He hands you a book bound in emerald green, the title in golden script: "The Legends of the Infernal Gala."

Satan: “I thought you might like to know more about the Gala’s history. It’s fascinating, really—did you know it started as a peace treaty celebration?”

You sit together, flipping through the pages. At one point, your fingers brush, and Satan pauses.

Satan: “You always surprise me. You’re curious, thoughtful, and unafraid to stand by us—even when things get complicated.”

He leans closer, his voice softer.

Satan: “I hope you know how much that means to me."

Dressing Room with Asmodeus

Asmo is in his room, surrounded by a dizzying array of outfits. He twirls in front of the mirror, striking a pose.

Asmodeus: “Tell me, which one screams ‘absolutely irresistible’? This one, or…”

He switches to another outfit, beaming at you.

You: “They’re both amazing, Asmo. You always look stunning.”

Asmodeus: (grinning) “Oh, you always know just what to say. But you know what? I think I’ll wear something that complements you. After all, we’ll be the center of attention together.”

He steps closer, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

Asmodeus: “You have this way of making me feel… special. Like I don’t need to try so hard, because I’m enough just as I am. Thank you for that."

Kitchen with Beelzebub

Beel is in the kitchen, preparing snacks for the event. You help him arrange platters of food, the smell of freshly baked bread filling the air.

Beelzebub: “Thanks for helping. I usually just eat everything, but it feels nice to make something for others.”

As you finish, Beel offers you a piece of chocolate from the tray, his expression soft.

Beelzebub: “You’re always looking out for us. It makes me want to do the same for you.”

He smiles, his usual straightforward honesty shining through.

Beelzebub: “You’re like family to me… but also more than that. I’m glad you’re here.”

Attic with Belphegor

Belphie is lying on a pile of blankets in the attic, staring at the ceiling. You join him, and he shifts to make room.

Belphegor: “The Gala’s gonna be exhausting. Too many people, too much noise. But at least you’ll be there.”

He closes his eyes, his voice soft.

Belphegor: “You’re the only one who makes all this bearable, you know. Stay with me a while. Just you and me, away from everything else.”

You rest beside him, and for a moment, the world feels quiet.

Study with Lucifer

Lucifer is in his study, reviewing event schedules and security measures. He looks up as you enter, his expression softening.

Lucifer: “Ah, I was just going over the final details. It’s a relief to see you—you have a calming effect, even on someone like me.”

You share a quiet moment, the crackling of the fireplace filling the silence. Lucifer pours you a glass of Demonus, his movements elegant.

Lucifer: “The Infernal Gala represents unity, strength, and peace. But for me… it’s also a reminder of how far we’ve come.”

He gazes at you, his eyes filled with warmth.

Lucifer: “You’ve been a part of that journey. More than you realize.”

The calm shatteres

The next morning, you are in the gardens of the House of Lamentation, enjoying a rare moment of peace. The sky is a deep, rich purple, with faint stars twinkling above. Beelzebub joins you, carrying a tray of snacks.

Beelzebub: “You’ve been quiet today. Something on your mind?”

You: (smiling softly) “Not really. Just thinking about how calm everything feels right now. It’s… nice.”

Beelzebub: (sitting beside you) “Yeah. Feels like it’s been a while since things were this peaceful. Lucifer hasn’t yelled at anyone today, and Mammon hasn’t set anything on fire… yet.”

You both share a laugh, but before the moment can last, a faint tremor shakes the ground. Beel jumps to his feet.

Beelzebub: “What was that?”

A ripple of energy passes through the garden, and several flowers wilt instantly. The air feels charged, heavy. You feel a faint pulse from your pact mark, though you don’t fully understand it yet.

You and Beel rush inside the House of Lamentation, where chaos has already begun. Furniture is floating, magical items are malfunctioning, and the brothers are in disarray.

Mammon: (running around) “Somebody fix this! My wallet turned into a bat and flew off! That’s my life savings in there!”

Leviathan: (clutching his D.D.D.) “Do you know how many hours of gameplay I just lost?! This is worse than the Great Reset of Akuzon Prime!”

Lucifer: (trying to remain composed) “Everyone, calm down. Panicking will accomplish nothing.”

Belphegor: (yawning) “Wake me when this is over. Or don’t. I’m fine either way.”

You notice your pact mark faintly glowing whenever the chaos intensifies. Asmodeus steps in, looking alarmed.

Asmodeus: “Is it just me, or does the energy in the house feel… weird? It’s like something’s out of sync.”

Before anyone can respond, the chandelier shatters with a loud crash. Lucifer’s patience snaps.

Lucifer: “Enough! Everyone, to the Demon Lord’s Castle—now. Diavolo needs to hear about this immediately.”

Emergency Meeting with Diavolo

The group arrives at the Demon Lord’s Castle. Diavolo greets you all with a worried expression, his usual jovial demeanor replaced by a more serious air. Barbatos stands quietly by his side, his gaze sharp and observant.

Diavolo: “Ah, you’ve arrived. I trust you’ve noticed the disturbances, then?”

Lucifer: “Noticed is an understatement. The House of Lamentation is in complete disarray. What’s causing this?”

Diavolo’s expression tightens, and he motions for you all to take a seat.

Diavolo: “It’s more than just your house, Lucifer. The magical ley lines that run through the Devildom are experiencing unusual fluctuations. Spells are failing, spells are overloading… and the environment itself is becoming unstable.”

Diavolo remains silent for a short while before speaking again.

Diavolo: "Remember when a few months ago the Devildom moon begun moving closer to us? And how MC stopped it with the help of (name of the brother you chose in lesson 60)? I think it might be somehow related to all this.

Barbatos: (nodding gravely) “We’ve been monitoring the situation for the past few weeks, but the source remains elusive. The ley lines should remain stable, but we are seeing powerful surges in energy that we cannot explain.”

Simeon: (calmly interjecting) “It’s a troubling situation, indeed. I’ve been sensing something off as well, but I can’t make sense of it.”

Solomon: (looking up from his scrolls) “The balance between the realms is delicate. It’s entirely possible this disturbance has something to do with the convergence of magical energies—perhaps even beyond our realm’s control.”

Luke: (clutching his little angel staff nervously) “So... we’re all in danger?”

Mephistopheles: (snickering from the corner) “Well, that depends on what you call ‘danger.’ There’s always a way to spin these things to our favor, you know.”

Raphael: (stoically) “We need to investigate this matter thoroughly. If there’s a threat, we’ll need to handle it swiftly, for the sake of everyone’s safety.”

Thirteen: (suddenly appearing with a slight chuckle) “It’s always so serious when you guys talk like this. How about we enjoy the chaos a little bit?”

The group’s attention is drawn back to Diavolo, who remains focused despite the tension.

Diavolo: “We’ve heard your concerns. But I must ask, how does this all relate to the Infernal Gala? If these disturbances continue, it could be catastrophic.”

Lucifer: “The Gala is already under heavy scrutiny. If the realm’s stability is at risk, Diavolo, this could be a catastrophic blow to the reputation of the Devildom.”

Asmodeus: “Oh, I can’t imagine the disaster. The Gala’s atmosphere would be ruined if the magical energies continue to fluctuate like this. People will notice, and chaos would break out if they suspect anything is wrong.”

Beelzebub: (his voice low and serious) “If things continue like this, there’s a real danger of even the food and drinks being affected. Imagine the mess if everything starts malfunctioning at the event.”

Lucifer: “Exactly. And with all the high-profile guests we’re expecting… We must act swiftly.”

Diavolo stands up, his usual warmth replaced by a rare intensity.

Diavolo: “For now, I ask all of you to stay vigilant. If you notice anything unusual—anything at all—report it immediately. The Gala must go off without a hitch, for the sake of maintaining peace and stability. But we must also prepare for the possibility that something more sinister is at play.”

Barbatos: (calmly) “We will continue investigating, but please, if you feel anything strange—if there’s any oddity you experience—don’t hesitate to tell us. The more information we have, the better.”

Lucifer: (looking directly at you) “You, especially. I’m sure you’ve felt it, too. These disturbances seem… connected to you.”

The room falls silent again as all eyes shift toward you. You feel a weight settling on your shoulders, the pressure building.

Diavolo: (smiling reassuringly) “You’ve done well so far. But now, we must prepare for whatever comes next. The Gala is crucial, but our first priority must be understanding the root cause of these events. If there’s a connection between you and this instability… we’ll need to address it quickly.”

As you nod in response, a sense of foreboding fills the air. The once-bustling preparations for the Gala seem like a distant memory now, overshadowed by the uncertainty surrounding the disruptions.

A talk with Solomon

After the emergency meeting, you wander through the halls of the House of Lamentation, the weight of the situation pressing on you. The magical disturbances, the instability in the Devildom... you feel like you're on the edge of something bigger, but you can't quite grasp it.

A soft voice interrupts your thoughts.

Solomon: "You're still awake, huh? I figured you might be here."

You turn and see Solomon leaning against the doorframe, his usual playful expression replaced by one of concern. He steps into the hallway, his gaze never leaving you.

You: “I don’t understand any of this… It feels like everything’s connected, but I don’t know how or why.”

Solomon walks up to you, his footsteps slow and deliberate. He looks at you with a knowing look, as though he’s been waiting for this conversation.

Solomon: “I can see why you’re confused. The fluctuations... the disruptions in the ley lines, they’re not random. They’re a result of your presence here.”

You: (frowning) “My presence?”

Solomon: (nodding) “It’s complicated. There’s something about your connection to the brothers, your dual pacts, that’s causing the instability. It’s as if the power between you and them is... too much for the realms to handle.”

You feel a jolt of realization. The dual pacts. You hadn’t thought about the significance of them, but it makes sense now. Solomon's words seem to echo in your mind, each one a small revelation.

You: “So... you think the dual pacts are the reason this is happening?”

Solomon hesitates for a moment, then nods, his eyes serious.

Solomon: “I’m beginning to suspect that’s the case. The way your power interacts with theirs... it’s creating more energy than the ley lines can accommodate. It’s like a pressure building up, and when too much energy is focused in one place, the balance of the realms starts to break down.”

You swallow, trying to process it all. Your mind races through everything you’ve experienced—the strange pull of the pact mark, the disruptions, the growing tension. It all leads back to the pacts.

You: “But why now? Why is this only happening now?”

Solomon: (with a sigh) “It didn't start now. Actually it's been going on for a while now. Remember how the moon was getting progressively closer and closer a few months ago? I suspect that's also due to your magic. But for all I know the dual pacts were never meant to be this powerful. They’re an anomaly.”

You: “So, everything that’s happening... it’s my fault?”

Solomon: (softly) “Not your fault. But your presence, your bond with the brothers—it’s a key factor. I should’ve been more cautious. I knew the pacts were risky, but I didn’t expect something like this would happen.”

You feel your heart race as you try to understand the magnitude of what Solomon is telling you. The chaos, the disruptions... you feel like you’re at the center of it all, and it’s terrifying.

You: “How do we fix this?”

Solomon takes a step closer, his gaze softening. His hand gently rests on your shoulder, and you feel a comforting warmth from his touch.

Solomon: “We’ll figure it out. Together. The brothers... they’re linked to this too, and we’ll need their help. But we can’t do it alone. The dual pacts are too unpredictable.”

For a moment, you both stand in silence, the weight of his words settling in. The chaos, the stakes... it feels like everything is changing too fast. Yet, with Solomon’s presence, there’s a sense of calm. You find comfort in his understanding.

You: “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Solomon smiles, but there’s a warmth in his eyes that makes your heart flutter, though he doesn't say anything for a moment. He simply pulls you into a gentle embrace, holding you close, offering a silent promise.

Solomon: “You’ll never have to find out.”

You lean into his chest, the tension in your body slowly melting away. His heartbeat is steady against your ear, and for the briefest moment, the world outside feels a little more bearable.

Solomon: “We’ll fix this. We’ll make sure the Gala goes off without a hitch, and we’ll find the cause of all this. But until then... just know that I’m here.”

You look up at him, your voice quiet but firm.

You: “Thank you, Solomon. I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel like I’m... not alone in this anymore.”

Solomon’s smile deepens, and he leans in, brushing a soft kiss against your forehead.

Solomon: “You’re never alone, MC. Not with me by your side.”

The Pact’s Secret Emerges

Later that evening, while the brothers are asleep, you are drawn to the library by an inexplicable force. You find an old book glowing faintly on the shelf and open it. The pages are filled with ancient symbols you can’t understand. Suddenly, a familiar voice interrupts you.

Barbatos: (appearing silently behind you) “Curious, isn’t it? That book is one of the oldest records in the castle. It documents the nature of pacts and their potential… consequences.”

You jump in surprise, quickly closing the book.

You: “Barbatos! You scared me. I didn’t mean to—”

Barbatos: (smiling slightly) “You needn’t apologize. It’s no coincidence that you were drawn to this book.”

Barbatos steps closer, his gaze calm but piercing.

Barbatos: “Tell me, since your return from the past, have you noticed anything… unusual? A change in your magic, perhaps? Or a resonance with the brothers’ powers?”

You stiffen.

You: “What do you mean by ‘return from the past’? How do you know about that?”

Barbatos: (tilting his head slightly) “I am the steward of time. There are few events that escape my notice.”

Your eyes widen. You clutch the book tightly, unsure of how to respond.

You: “I… I haven’t told anyone except Solomon. How much do you know?”

Barbatos: “Enough to understand that your journey was no mere coincidence. It was necessary, though its ripple effects are only now beginning to manifest.”

You: “Ripple effects…? Are you saying all of this—the disturbances in the Devildom—are my fault?”

Barbatos: (softly) “Fault is a strong word. Responsibility, perhaps. But do not misunderstand—your presence here is essential. You hold the key to stabilizing the realm.”

Barbatos’ gaze sharpens as he steps closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper.

Barbatos: “However, I must warn you: secrets have a way of surfacing when the time is right. The truth will not remain hidden forever—not from the brothers, nor from yourself.”

He gestures toward the glowing book.

Barbatos: “Keep this between us for now. But be vigilant. The bonds you share with the brothers are deeper and more intricate than even you realize.”

After the encounter, Barbatos is in his room, standing over a magical map of the Devildom. Glowing lines represent the ley lines, which are flickering and unstable. He traces his fingers over the map, frowning as he notices a disturbing pattern.

Barbatos: (to himself) “The fluctuations are growing stronger, converging toward a single point. If this trajectory continues…”

He pauses, his expression darkening.

Barbatos: “…even the combined power of the brothers may not be enough to stop what’s coming.”

The map reveals the convergence point glowing ominously—a location deep within the Devildom that remains unidentified.

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