#Like... I was such a big help at her wedding

[writingwisterias]

I was daydreaming today at college and thought about Leon absolutely ravaging me in my wedding dress... Would you be able to write the reader teasing him at the wedding all evening long, feeling him up, making him jealous until the end of the night when he finally gets you alone and just goes totally feral?! Your work is amazing, please never stop 🥰😌😵‍💫💦

YES, I CAN ANON!

I love this!!! I hope I did the idea justice! I did Death Island Leon because I rewatched it and he's on my mind. I rambled sorry this took so long, I needed it to be done right!

Warnings: Smut, MNDI, Fluff, Teasing, Praise Kink, Cowgirl, Oral (F receiving) Jealousy, Hidden touches, Comfort

Death Island! Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Reader

Words: 3.8k

Leon never thought he would get this chance, marriage was always just a distant dream, one that always seemed impossible with his job and lifestyle. Until you came along and made him feel easy to love for once. Your smile manages to brighten any mood he might be in. His home was dark and bare now filled with warmth and love, decorated with things that reminded him of how far you had both become. He made it his life's mission to ensure you never stopped smiling and never faced anything like he had. Your protection was his top priority as he kept you separate from his work life, a little hidden secret in this world. One for just him to enjoy.

The isle was decorated in soft greens and browns, the sun felt warm for once as it fell over his features. It felt like God was finally giving him a break from the whirlpool of life he was handed. He couldn't stop the swaying of his feet or fiddling with the tie that felt too tight around his neck. Neither of you wanted a big wedding, limiting your guest list to just close friends and family but the room still felt full. Despite the small number of people you had invited, their adoring stares at him and their whispers about what you might look like today didn't help. Leon didn’t care what dress you picked out, he gave you the budget to get the biggest one if you wanted it. All that mattered to him was that you were happy and at the end of the day were with him in an enteral promise. One he knew went deeper than simple love. 

Ignoring the waves of anxiety he felt, all the attention began to feel too much without you by his side to make it more bearable. Leon made sure to put on the biggest smile that he could muster up as he watched the wedding party begin to filter through the aisle. Soft instrumental music complimented them as they all walked down. The once red carpet is now being decorated with a range of petals as your niece went down alongside her brother who carried the rings. Everyone’s attention was drawn to them, their adorable stumbles thankfully gave him a chance to let out a shaky breath before he had to reach for the velvet box from the young boy. It felt heavy, similar to the feeling when he had the last velvet box in his pocket; a decision he would never come to regret in his life. He had thought about this moment for months, his dreams being filled by adding to the collection of rings he had given to you, all in a romantic promise that was tying your souls together forever.

Leon had memorized the order in which everyone was going to be coming through, all of them finding their place on the respected sides. Their smiles warmed his heart at how happy they were for the both of you. The love crashed over him in waves as your family welcomed him in with open arms. The change in song made his heart rate begin to pick up as you walked down. You looked like an angel, one that was finally ready to take him to salvation - a gift sent from the heavens for all of his hard work and trauma. You smiled at Leon, watching as his eyes twinkled with tears of happiness. He deserved this; there was no one more than deserving of your love. Your answer to his proposal was the easiest choice you had ever made. Just as you were for Leon he was the same for you. 

You could feel his hands shake as he lifted your veil, the sound of everyone around you melting away as he gazed upon your features like he was memorising them despite knowing that he does it every time he wakes up before you in the morning. You watched as his smile grew softer, his body trying to reign in his emotions as the tears fell slightly down his face. You felt the ghost of his breath against your palm as you wiped it away for him. Your touch is just a ghost of the love he knew you had for him. His love was always intoxicating to you. Helping your brain become fuzzy so you forget about the world around you. The nerves you had at the start of the day are now settled in a calm and peaceful feeling. That's what you loved about him, his endless ability to ease your anxiety. He was your bridge, your stable wall to lean on if you needed it. Leon had given you everything you needed and more in life; you will always be thankful for that. 

Your hands slotted in his perfectly; Leon was grasping them tightly in case you would fade away right in front of him like you were some dream he would wake up from. The vows you shared today would never be broken; the endless devotion you both shared was witnessed by everyone else in the room. “I love you” You whispered to him leaning on his shoulder as you both waited for the end of the ceremony. Leon glanced down at you, his eyes sparkling with more unshed tears, his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “I love you more” 

It felt like the world stopped as you turned to face each other before you finally kissed marking your new journey as Mr and Mrs Kennedy. Neither of you needed this, the large fancy wedding or the certificate you were now both signing with shaky hands and large smiles. You both know the love you shared was solidified with the care you put towards each other in each other darkest moments. There was no end to this life without Leon being by your side.

You grasped his hand tightly as you both ran down the aisle, your laughter filling the air mixing in with the confetti that fell around you. Leon pulled you back into him, greedy for another kiss before the true celebrations began, the fabric of your dress swirling around his feet as you collided with him. 

The rest of the evening felt like a blur, the both of you being dragged around by family and friends for endless photos. The camera flash soon became a permanent fixture every time you blinked. Yet, as everyone settled down for the evening meal, plates of food were being wafted around the room and the waitresses handed them out; Leon didn’t miss the longing looks you gave him. The squeezes of his thigh underneath the table as your hand inched higher and higher. Your delicate fingers brushed along the front of his trousers all whilst glancing at him with an adoring and innocent smile. It was driving him insane with how casual you were being about it. “You alright there honey? You look a little flustered” you giggled in his ear, leaning towards him. His smirk grew on his face, his eyes hidden by his dark hair as he turned to look at you. “Someone seems to be starting something I’m not sure they can finish” He teased. Normally Leon would have touched your skin and teased the fabric of your underwear groaning at the feel of the arousal he knew was drenching the thin fabric but your damn dress was too big. He was beaten by layers of white fabric. 

“We’ve still got many hours before I can show you what's underneath this dress” you whispered again. His face flushed - turning a dark pink as his brain tried to decipher what you meant. To his credit he recovered quickly, hiding his flushed cheeks from the guests with a kiss. Coos and chuckles surrounded you as you both shared this moment. When he pulled away his eyes narrowed, a warning. That if you continued then you would be in for a long night, but then when did you ever listen to him?

The night continued with tear-jerking speeches from close family and friends and you now both stood outside the doors waiting for the events organizer to announce you both as Mr and Mrs Kennedy for your first dance. His hand held yours firmly, almost like if he loosened his grip he would wake up from this dream. 

“Ready?” You asked him, looking up at his stubble-coated face in adoration. He never got used to your twinkling eyes when you looked at him, perhaps he never would. He didn't need the three words that meant so much to many people - your eyes told your story, your feelings. “To embarrass me with how badly I dance…no” he teased a toothy grin filling his features. Your laugh was better music than the song lined up for the rest of the evening. His own eyes crinkled once again as his smile grew. You heard your name announced and both jogged out onto the dance floor.. confetti and cheers surround you once again. 

Leon's hands gripped your hips tightly as they swirled you around, opting to stick to simple swaying and a few spins. You didn't care, you were smiling anyway. That was another thing you did that caused him to fall in love with you - how easily you accepted the simplest things he gave you. The size of his gestures is never an issue with you. When the song slowed down he bought you closer, his hands lowering to the swell of your ass. Your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers toying with the soft strands of his hair. His aftershave was intoxicating, filling your senses as you tucked yourself closer, his head resting on yours. The moment was peaceful, perfect. One he would remember every time a mission got too much, or he needed a reason to get back up after he's been slammed down numerous amounts of times. 

The moment was broken when one of the bridesmaids tapped him on the shoulder holding out a polaroid to him. He glanced briefly at you not failing to notice the large grin on your face. It was comical how wide his eyes went when he looked at the small picture; a choked breath following as his cheeks flushed. “What the fuck” he chuckled as he turned back to you, tucking away the Polaroid in his pocket before anyone else got to see. “There's plenty more where that came from” you spoke. Leon pulled you close again, trapping you against his body with a large grin on his features as his lips ghosted your skin. “You little minx” he whispered in your ear, his breath tickling the shell of yours. You smiled at the contact, at the small graze of his lips against your neck. Your fingers tugged gently at the hairs on the nape of his neck, swirling the soft strands in small circles. He felt you slip away leaving his arms to merge in with the rest of the dancefloor. Your white dress twirled around you as you greeted your friends. He watched with a smile, seeing your happiness leak into the people around you…into himself. 

Your feet moved gracefully along the dancefloor as you sauntered back to him often during the rest of the night. Interrupting and saving him from boring conversations with older relatives, your lips kissing in the pattern he knew would be repeated later when you were both alone. The collection of polaroids started to thicken his pockets as your bridesmaids continued to hand them to him, his face flushing each time - eyes narrowing as he found you giggling across the room from him. He was thankful as people started to wish you luck and goodnight, all heading off to their rooms. Instantly beginning to look for you to drag you to the bridal room. Leon found you helping the servers gather the remaining drinks handing them glasses over to the bar. Your hair was wild, strands sticking out of the braid it was neatly made into earlier in the day. Your makeup was smudged and the lipstick is virtually nonexistent but to him, you still looked just as beautiful at the start of the day. 

He felt giddy as you both stumbled your way back to the room, practically running through the halls. Your smile grew as you heard his laugh, the sound bouncing down the corridor. His hand held onto yours firmly not once letting go. It felt like you were teenagers again, running through the school corridors to escape school. You wished you had met him sooner in life, so you could have loved him sooner. Helped through the horrors he had told you, showed him a world of love and affection sooner before he fell into the habits he wasn't proud of.  His lips attacked yours as soon as you got through the door, the key card discarded on the desk landing on it with a clatter. Your hands slid under the shoulders of his blazer. Leon smiled into the kiss, his shoulders shaking it off in a poor attempt to help, the fabric landing with a thud on the floor. 

The contents of it scattered along the floor, his phone now hidden somewhere you'll both be scrambling to find in the morning. He smirked at the Polaroids that had now scattered everywhere, the photos of you that he kept hidden now a reminder of your promise. He felt his cock throbbing against the fabric of his trousers, he almost cummed at the idea of sinking into you finally after today. He pulled you towards the bed, pushing you backwards until your knees hit the edge of the bed. Leon wished he hadn’t just lost his phone so he could have taken a photo of you sprawled out on the bed beneath him surrounded by the rose petals the hotel staff had thrown on the bed. Your eyes were intense as they looked at him with pure lust, you always did love him in his suits. 

“You have a promise to keep?” He teased, bending down briefly to collect a polaroid off the floor - holding it out to you so you could see throwing it on the bed next to you. His hands began to push the layers of fabric up your legs, exposing your hips. He smiled at the garter that was still around your thigh. Leon’s head instantly lowered, his teeth tugging it down your leg, ignoring the chuckle that left your lips as he struggled to get it over your shoe. When he raised his head again you smiled at his smug look, the elastic band hanging from his teeth like a trophy. 

“You were meant to do that earlier and then see which one of your friends was getting married next” You smiled as you pulled it from his teeth, discarding the fabric somewhere else in the room. “Guess I’ll just have to marry you again” He spoke, kissing up your thighs disappearing amongst the fabric. “Already? We just made our vows” 

Leon’s head shot up again his hair falling over his eyes as he looked at you. “I’ll chant them to you every night if I have to. I’ll never forget them, nor will I let you forget them.” 

You knew if you wanted him to he would always be willing to do what it takes to prove he is forever grateful for your unwavering love and patience over the past few years. The same soft hands that now tugged his head towards your dripping cunt pulling him out of one of the worst states he’s ever been in. He didn’t like thinking about what would have happened if you hadn’t given him the final shove to pour the drink away. To stop for the first time since his 20s. His fingers looped in the waistband of the white lacy thong pulling it down your legs. You spread them, showing off your soaked core that he had skipped the cake for. Opting to save his appetite for a sweeter dessert instead. 

“I meant every single word” 

His mouth instantly latched on, sucking up the sweet arousal you were already dripping for him. Your legs wrapped tightly around his head, the fabric hiding him from sight as he worked his magic. Leon would spend hours like this if he wanted to, his head buried in a sacred space you kept so perfect for him. Forever - until death - now the only person that would be able to taste the sweet drink you created for him. Your legs shook as his tongue flicked against the sensitive bud, his nose occasionally brushing against it as he enthusiastically licked long stripes up your folds. 

You felt the incoming orgasm, your thighs shaking uncontrollably around his head only spurring Leon on to continue his assault of pleasure faster. He groaned when you finally spilt on his tongue, he lapped it up like he was dehydrated. You supposed he was, with the incoming date of your wedding you both barely had enough time for this. You moaned at the sight of his chin covered in his drool and your cum, his tongue swiping across his lips making sure he lapped it all up. He always was a messy eater. 

You could taste yourself on his as he crawled up to place a kiss on your lips. “How expensive was the dress?” he asked whilst nipping at your neck. His stubble was prickly against your skin. “Very. You gave me no budget remember” You chuckled, pulling at his hair causing him to look at you. “So if I fucked you in it, it would be a waste of money?” 

“We can always get it dry cleaned” 

He chuckled pulling away from you again. He was too slow at unbuttoning his shirt, you sat up, crawling towards the edge of the bed on shaking legs to help him. The fabric was discarded somewhere in the room with a thud. His hands worked on his trousers, his belt clinking loudly as they fell to the floor. You bit your lip at the sight of his pre cum on his boxers, both old and new stains. “Look at what you did to me all day, in this dress, the touches at dinner, the fucking photos. The day dragged on for far too long” He mumbled lowly. You loved it when he did this when his octave lowered with need and frustration for wanting you. Your teasing finally pushed him over the edge and now he had a taste there was no point in preventing him from the full meal. He was going to get it anyway. 

You stood up from the bed, spinning the both of you so he fell against the soft sheets. He waited for you to undo the dress, to let the fabric hide his trousers. Instead to crawled above him, pushing him towards the headboard. Leon pulled his boxers off, his cock thumping against his stomach at your approach. You smirked at the tip, angry and red as it waited for you. Dribbles of pre cum decorating it like candle wax, he was always so pretty.

 A large sigh from the both of you filled the room as you finally sank on him. The sight is hidden by the layers of the dress now pooling around you both. He could admire the way the bodice fit against your form, the delicate lace hems making you look even more magical. You were perfect, always were and always will be. 

Your hips moved too slow for his liking, the pleasure he needed not building up fast enough. Tired of your teasing his hips met your own. The lazy thrusts hit deeper and deeper as they collided with your own, brushing against the entrance of your cervix. He was always larger than you remembered, no amount of foreplay ever prepared you for the glorious stretch he gave you each time you fucked. His small whisps of hair tease your already sensitive clit. 

He could feel you quiver above him, your head thrown back with a large smile plastered on your face. He watched the rise and fall of your chest as it pushed out the breathless whimpers. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, the freshly painted nails leaving small crescent shapes along his already uneven skin. He wouldn’t mind a few more scars, not if they were left by you tonight. A forever memory etched onto his skin as well as in his mind. 

Had all his prayers finally been answered? All of his years of suffering finally bought to a close with the clench of your walls around his cock and a promise to love him until he gave his final breath. “I fucking love you, Mrs Kennedy” 

Hearing it made it more real somehow, made the whole day finish with another orgasm from you as you collapsed against him. Your sweaty skin cooling his down. He was so close, to his own ending. To coat and fill you with himself, the way it will always be now. Leon was now the only one who got this pleasure, that was allowed to do this. 

He was quick to move you, slipping out only briefly to place you on all fours. His cock slipped back into you; “I…will…always…fucking…love…you” he chanted with each thrust. Driving his cock deep into the velvet walls. Your whimpers and whines spur him on along with the begs to go faster and harder. The two of you lost in the moment, in the feel of each other. His ring was cool against your hip as it pressed into the flesh from his grip. Your dress rustles around you with every movement. Nothing else mattered, not the endless piles of paperwork on his desk waiting for him when he would return to the office, the complaints of customers you would eventually face in your own return to work. 

Everything could wait. Nothing would stop him from feeling this, the way you clenched and sucked him back in again. Trapped him in as he finally climaxed. His warmth flooded you, leaking out as he pulled away. Your shaking legs finally gave up as you fell onto the bed. A smile plastered on your face from where it was smooshed against the pillows. His fingers worked on undoing the back of the dress, your skin exposed to the cold. Fuck, he needed this sight engraved into his brain forever. You sat up, allowing the fabric to slip off your form with his help. The dress left to crease and crumple on the floor as you both tucked away in bed. 

He held you tightly against his chest, his heartbeat thumping loudly against your ear. Despite the great sex, this was what you cared about the most, the vulnerable moments where you slept the best. “Goodnight love” He whispered into your hair as he pressed a kiss into the crown of your head. You smiled against his skin, placing a kiss above the spot of his heart. Your fingers lazily traced along the scars that littered his chest until the room was filled with the soft snores of the newly weds. 

[lyrenminth]

Wedding dress

Fluff.

******

The melodic whispers and tinkling laughter of your daughters, Rosie, seven, and Julie, five, drifted down the stairs, while you made dinner. Their older brother, ten-year-old Liam, was away at summer camp, while Joe was training for his upcoming season.

Suddenly, their laughter grew closer, tinged with a nervous excitement that piqued your curiosity. "What are you two up to?" you inquired, a playful sternness in your voice.

"Nothing!" Rosie exclaimed, her eyes wide with a mischievous glint. "We saw a video about wedding dresses and we want to see yours!"

"My wedding dress?" you mused, a faint smile in your lips. "It must be tucked away in storage somewhere"

"You can wear it again!" Julie piped up, her voice filled with childlike wonder. "Like a princess!" She curtsied with a flourish, her tiny hands clasped in front of her.

"Oh, darling," you chuckled, "I don't think I'd quite fit into it anymore" You gently corrected her, "But I can certainly show it to you."

"Yes! Yes!" they chanted, their voices filled with excitement as they bounced on the balls of their feet.

With dinner simmering gently on the stove, you ascended the stairs, the girls trailing close behind like eager puppies. Their tiny hands helped you rummage through the overflowing attic closet, their excitement mounting with each discarded box. Finally, they stumbled upon it – a pristine white box, nestled amongst forgotten treasures.

"We found it! We found it!" they shrieked in unison, their voices echoing through the dusty attic.

You carefully carried the weighty box down to your bedroom and placed it delicately on the bed. "Open it, Mommy! Open it!" Julie urged, her impatience barely concealed.

"Let's open it together," you suggested, inviting their eager participation.

As they lifted the lid, a wave of nostalgia washed over you. You remembered the day you wore that dress, the intoxicating blend of excitement and nervousness, the feeling of walking on air. You remembered the way the sunlight had danced on the delicate lace, the way Joe's eyes had widened in awe when he saw you for the first time. You even remembered the faint blush of wine staining the pristine white silk after you tried to drink and dance at the same time.

"It has lace and flowers!" Rosie gasped, her tiny fingers tracing the delicate embroidery. Julie, ever the impulsive one, couldn't resist and pulled the dress out of the box. "Ooh, it's so heavy!" she exclaimed, struggling to hold the weight of the designer gown.

You gently untangled the fabric, revealing the mermaid silhouette and the voluminous skirt that could be detached for easier movement. A sigh escaped your lips as you admired the intricate floral details that adorned the corset, delicate and understated. This dress, you realized, had once made you feel like a goddess, ethereal and enchanting.

Joe's face, filled with a mixture of awe and tenderness, flashed through your mind. He had looked at you that day as if you were the only woman in the world. His grin lived free on your mind, his possesive hands around your waist.

"Mommy, you need to wear it again!" the girls declared in unison.

You hesitated, a playful doubt creeping into your voice. "Do you really think so?"

"Yes! Yes!" they insisted, their eyes sparkling with anticipation.

With a resigned shrug, you conceded. "Alright then, let's see what we can do."

The girls transformed into whirlwind fairies, assisting you in the delicate task of slipping into the dress. Rosie, a budding makeup artist, meticulously applied a touch of blush to your cheeks while Julie, the consummate stylist, brushed your hair with gentle strokes.

You settled into a chair, basking in the playful chaos of their ministrations, when Joe's voice broke through the feminine chatter. "What in the world is going on here?" he inquired, a curious smile playing on his lips.

"Daddy! We're playing princess with Mommy!" Julie announced, her big blue eyes sparkling with excitement. "Does she look pretty?"

"She does, always," Joe replied, his gaze lingering on your figure with an intensity that made your heart flutter.

"Did you see? It's her wedding dress!" Rosie exclaimed, her voice filled with a sense of wonder.

A blush crept up your neck, betraying your embarrassment. Ten years of marriage, and he still had the power to make you feel like a blushing schoolgirl.

He stepped into the room, his eyes tracing the lines of your figure. The dress, once so loose, now clung to your curves, the lace at the back straining against your skin. You felt a pang of self-consciousness, a stark reminder of the passage of time. "Turn around for me, babe" he called. You sent him a warning glare and he just laughed. You turned around to show him the back. "So pretty, momma" Julie exclaimed, her little fists tucked under her chin, clueless about the hungry stare in her father eyes. Joe´s hands were instantly on your ass.

"Damn" he whispered on your ear. "Do you want to recreate our honeymoon?" You got goosebumps, and grabbed his shoulders to reach his level. "Do you?"

"Kiss the bride!" Rosie yelled, excited.

"Yes, kiss her" Juli demaded "Kiss, kiss, kiss" they chanted.

Joe grabbed you by the waist and leaned in to kiss you. It was short, but feeling his lips on yours always brought you joy.

The girls jumped on his dad and Joe caught them before it was to late.

You were glad they could have these memories. It was important to show them what love could look like.

[bosbas]

Chapter 4: uh oh, I'm fallin' in love

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!daphne's best friend!reader WC: 2.3k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love, anthony being a big softie, mostly fluff, i still ship y/n and daphne tbh

Summary: At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)

June 16, 1812 - “How’s Mr Norwood?” you asked Daphne, sitting on the couch next to her in the Bridgertons’ tea room, her legs on your lap as the rain steadily poured outside.

Your best friend and her hopefully-husband-to-be had been looking particularly cozy as of late, and you knew that you had played no small part in making that happen. Unfortunately, Daphne’s happiness was often overshadowed by the small pang of guilt you felt every time you had a particularly lovely afternoon with her oldest brother.

“Oh, he’s lovely. I do think he’ll propose in the next few weeks,” she said excitedly, her legs dancing excitedly on your lap.

You squealed in response, absolutely elated at the prospect of seeing your best friend in a wedding gown before the end of the season. It’s practically all she’d dreamed about, and you couldn’t believe the time was so close.

“Where will you live? After you marry, I mean,” you asked, twirling a lock of your hair around your index finger. “If I have to travel to another country to see you, I’ll riot.”

Daphne paused, unsure. “We haven’t particularly discussed it. I think his family has a home a few hours away, but surely his older brother will inherit that…”

You sat up straight, realizing this was a sensitive subject. “That’s quite alright, I’m sure your dowry will be more than enough for a simple estate somewhere nearby,” you reassured, patting her legs comfortingly.

If they were truly in love, it wouldn’t matter how small or large their home was. But Daphne only hummed in response, looking out distractedly at the raindrops hitting the window.

Deciding not to press your best friend and potentially cause her more distress, you changed the subject.

Playing with the hem of Daphne’s dress, you said nonchalantly, “I suppose I’ll end things with Anthony right before Phillip proposes. There’s no real point in continuing the façade if Phillip has to ask Anthony for your hand anyway, so it’s not like we can keep going longer than that.”

Daphne narrowed her eyes at you, smiling slightly. “Really? I thought you two were having a lovely time during your courtship.”

You paused, your hand going still for a moment. “Well, of course. We get along quite well. But it’s not real, Daphne. I don’t really have feelings for him and he doesn’t really have any intention of marrying me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure!” you laughed at the absurdity of your best friend’s suggestion, sounding a bit panicked. “I couldn’t truly be interested in him!”

Just then, you heard the front door open and heavy footsteps coming down the hallway.

Recognizing her brother’s footfalls, Daphne called out, “Anthony, I didn’t know you’d gone out riding. It’s absolutely pouring outside!”

“I can’t believe it actually rained,” he groaned, his voice carrying across the hall. “I thought Colin just said that to be a nuisance.”

He peeked his head into the tea room, looking completely disheveled from what you could only assume was a hectic horse ride. His hair was soaking and stuck to his forehead, his sleeves were dripping water onto the carpet, and he was shivering slightly from the cold. And yet, you thought to yourself, he still looked more handsome than any other man in the ton.

“Y/N!” he yelped as his eyes fell on you, sitting comfortably on his couch as Daphne had her legs propped on your lap. “I didn’t expect to see you here. I’m sorry, I would’ve looked more… presentable. Or at least dry.”

It was the oddest thing, he suddenly seemed impossibly shy. You only laughed and shook your head, waving off his apology.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” you smiled, recalling how reckless young Anthony was when it came to riding.

Anthony crinkled his nose, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s different now, though,” he insisted, still sounding out of sorts. “I can head upstairs quickly to make myself presentable and greet you properly.”

“No, that’s quite alright,” you insisted, finding Anthony entirely too endearing at the moment. “I should probably head home anyway; I’ve been here the better part of the afternoon.”

“Let me walk you home at least,” pleaded the positively soaking man at the entrance of the room. “Or even just call a carriage.”

Your home was only a few minutes’ walk away, and you were usually happy to do it on your own. However, looking out the window you realized it probably wasn’t the best idea to head home in this weather.

“Very well then,” you conceded, finding it impossible to say no to Anthony.

“Alright, give me five minutes, then. Just let me change out of these clothes and I’ll be back,” he yelled over his shoulder, already out the door and rushing upstairs.

“So it's all just pretend, then?” asked Daphne smugly once Anthony was gone.

“Oh, shush,” you grumbled, shoving her legs off you.

But Daphne only laughed gleefully, a knowing twinkle in her eye.

---

June 19, 1812 - Anthony had gone into town on a fine Friday afternoon in search of a new pair of hunting boots when he spotted you some distance away. You were accompanied by your lady’s maid, and you seemed to be leaving the modiste.

Apart from noticing how stunning you looked, even in a simple day dress, Anthony realized a few things.

First, you were far enough away from him and positioned in such a manner that there was no chance that you would see him. He could easily just go on with his day, quickly find the pair of hunting boots he came for, and make his way home.

However, the second thing he took note of is that a gentleman such as himself would always go out of his way to greet the lady he was courting. Perhaps it was time to shift away from the tiring rake act he so often put on and act like a Bridgerton.

And finally, he noted that, in reality, he could come back for a pair of hunting boots at any time. However, he couldn’t unexpectedly run into you every day.

So, with all this in mind, Anthony determinedly shouted your name. When you didn’t hear him and kept walking, he yelled your lady’s maid’s name, who turned around to look at who had called for her. Spotting Anthony through the crowd of summer shoppers, your lady’s maid tugged at your sleeve, turning you around so you could see him.

“Oh, Anthony, what a surprise!” you called, unable to help the bright smile that lit up your face.

How gentlemanly, you thought, for Anthony to go out of his way to say hello. Perhaps he had left behind his rakish ways.

“It’s rather hot today, isn’t it?” said Anthony as he reached you, leaning down to kiss your hand in greeting. “What do you say about going across the street and enjoying some tea?”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. Greeting you unexpectedly and asking to spend time together? This was quite unusual indeed.

“Is there something you wanted to talk about?” you said, somewhat nervously. Had Daphne somehow let her plan slip? “We were due to see each other this evening at the Featherington ball."

Anthony laughed, enjoying your confusion. It felt quite good to be a gentleman, he thought. “Not at all, I just thought I’d take advantage of the fact that I saw you. I’m not particularly keen on depriving myself of the company of a wonderful lady such as yourself.”

You felt your face growing hot, completely floored by how lovely Anthony was being. It was like his usual charm turned up by a factor of ten.

Looking over at your lady’s maid, you raised your eyebrows to ask if it was alright with her if your plans were derailed.

“Nowhere else to be,” she shrugged her shoulders.

“Perfect, then, let’s go,” you smiled at Anthony.

Hooking your hand into the crook of his arm, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter in your stomach. Bit by bit, you were realizing you were in far over your head. So far you couldn’t even see the ground anymore. Anthony was turning out to be completely unexpected.

And though you were practically giddy every time you saw him now, you were also fighting to bury the uncomfortable thought that you might have made a grave mistake trying to mastermind your courtship with him.

---

June 23, 1812 - “Well, I suppose I should get going,” Anthony said to Colin, getting up from his chair as he looked at his watch. “Y/N will surely be expecting me, seeing as how we went to a ball yesterday evening.”

Upon hearing Colin snickering in response, the eldest Bridgerton shot his younger brother an annoyed look.

“Do you think this is funny? Wait a few years and you’ll be doing this, too,” Anthony scoffed.

“It’s not that,” said Colin, still chuckling to himself. “It’s just that she’s been here since this morning. I ran into her and Daphne a few hours ago.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” asked Anthony in disbelief.

Colin shrugged. “I thought you’d surely seen her. You’re the one courting her, after all.”

“Why didn’t she ask for me?” grumbled Anthony, mostly to himself. “Well, even more reason to go see her now. Goodbye, Colin. I would say it was a pleasure speaking with you but based on the last two minutes I don’t particularly think it was.”

In response, Colin half-heartedly crumpled up a piece of paper and threw it at his brother. “Say hello to your wife for me,” he teased, knowing Anthony’s aversion to marriage.

But his jab was only met with a slammed door. Anthony was too focused on finding you.

How on earth had he not noticed your presence in his home the whole day? To be fair, before you started courting, you spent copious amounts of time at the Bridgerton residence, with or without Daphne, and he wasn’t always aware until after the fact.

You had practically already been a part of the family, but it felt different now. He felt panicked that he hadn’t already greeted you, and he was worried you would hold it against him.

Rushing down the stairs, he ran into Daphne, who was shuffling through a stack of letters in the foyer.

“Who are you expecting correspondence from? A suitor?” he questioned suspiciously.

“She’s in the sitting room,” answered Daphne curtly.

Without a second thought, Anthony dashed across the hall, bursting into the sitting room.

There, he found you and Hyacinth sitting next to each other on the pianoforte bench. Your hands were on hers as you guided her nine-year-old fingers over the keys to form a melody. Startled, you dropped Hyacinth’s hands and turned to look over at the doorway.

“Is something the matter, dear?” asked Violet calmly from the other side of the room, quite used to the antics of her eight children.

“No, no- not at all,” gulped Anthony, not expecting to have seen you with his youngest sister. “I just heard Y/N had stopped by, is all.”

“That’s kind of you,” you said, smiling softly at the man you were courting. “Hyacinth seems to be a natural at the pianoforte.”

“Better than Gregory anyway,” said Hyacinth haughtily, eliciting a hearty laugh from you.

“Well, run along, then, Hyacinth,” urged Anthony. “I believe I should like to speak with Y/N.”

Hyacinth groaned, “She’s not yours Anthony. I believe I should like to stay," she said petulantly. "I was having such a lovely time with Y/N before you interrupted.”

She hugged you tight, lest Anthony tried to make her leave by force. Laughing, you hugged her back, patting her head soothingly.

“No one’s making you leave, Hyacinth,” you shot Anthony a playful glare. “I apologize for not finding you earlier, Gregory has just learned how to play chess and wanted to play a match. And then Hyacinth came in and thought it quite unfair that I had spent such a long time with Gregory and not her. And then, well, you know how they are…” you explained, your voice full of fondness for the youngest Bridgertons.

“Oh, do I,” said Anthony, walking over to ruffle Hyacinth’s hair affectionately. “Who won the chess match?”

Resigning himself to the fact that his little sister wouldn’t leave, Anthony made himself comfortable on the couch closest to you. And though he was hoping to spend some time alone– well, chaperoned– with you, he couldn’t deny that his heart was doing all sorts of gymnastics in his chest at the thought of the care you had for his siblings.

“We each won one and the third was a stalemate,” you responded, winking at Anthony and running your fingers through Hyacinth’s hair. “He’s quite good.”

“I want to learn how to play chess,” whined Hyacinth, detesting the fact that you and Gregory shared something she couldn’t join in on.

“I can teach you next time I stop by,” you promised, smiling fondly at her. “It’s quite a fun game, once you understand the rules.”

And at that very moment, Anthony knew he loved you. It had happened slowly, and then quite suddenly he was extremely aware of it. Much like you had made your way into the Bridgertons’ lives, you had made your way into his heart.

He knew he would be a fool not to see it. All he ever wanted was to take care of his family, and seeing you feel the same way was doing all sorts of things to his heart that he found impossible to ignore. You cared so deeply about his family, and it was difficult not to imagine the pair of you having a child of your own.

Anthony had decided. This was the first and last courtship he would ever have. He was falling faster than he could imagine, and he didn't particularly want to do anything to stop it. 

—

previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!

Turn on post notifications for @bosbas-library to stay updated when I post!

[rogueandflame]

The Twins and One

So here is an idea for a fic that I shared with an incredible writer and mutual, @aeralux. (She will be waking up to 100 notifications but oh well.) I wanted to share it with you, and get your opinion on whether I should start writing. Please know that I have not written in years, and that this is a very, very rough draft. This dialogue came to me while I was driving. This is not done, and will be expanded on either by me or Aera.

Update (1/8/2025): Check out the final version HERE!

cregan stark x wife!reader x FraternalTwin!jace

Warnings: A little more than suggestive, targcest, cuckholding, impending threesome.

MDNI!!!

🤍

it was the hour of the wolf. Jace walks the cold halls of winterfell, missing the warmth of the south, and the warmth of his family. he is wrapped in a borrowed wolf fur coat, from cregan, and it is about two sizes too large for him. his sword rests at his hip, and he holds the hilt as a sort of reassurance.

his mind is racing with thoughts of war and thoughts of you. for the first time in his life, he has spent more than a moon's turn from his beloved twin sister. it had been six months since jace had escorted you north for your wedding to cregan. he knew this day would come someday, but he did not think it would be so shortly after your twentieth nameday. cregan stark is a good man, and is one of the crown's closest allies. jace and cregan were like brothers, but he could not help to think that he should have been your husband instead.

growing up, you always explored each other's bodies. you came into the world as one, and were practically attached at the hip. "one soul, two bodies," became a pointed remark at the red keep, meant to call out how often you were found at each other's side, but you and jace embraced it. it was true. you were his confidant, his sister, the more brazen flame compared to his tempered one. you were his lover.

as he walks, his thoughts run wild over the last time he saw you in front of him. the curve of your breasts complimenting the curve of your waist. your hair not a rich brown like his, but the same as your mother's - as pale as the moon on its fullest night. your eyes the palest purple seen in the family, reflecting your undeniable heritage.

you were his and he was yours.

he is snapped back into reality as he passes your chambers, noises coming from within them. weary and restless, jace pushes the thick door swiftly open, fully expecting you to be struggling with a dangerous man for your life. without a second thought, and before the situation is fully realized, he unsheaths his sword, ready to defend you from whoever could be harming you. and then there you are. while you are admist a struggle with a dangerous man, it is not for your life.

cregan looks up at the interruption, but seems unphased. his large body is over yours, his palms next to your head as he prepares to thrust into you. you tilt your head back towards the door, the world upside down.

"Jace?" you murmur. Cregan sits back on his knees, not bothering to cover you or himself up.

"Are you going to stand there like a frail pup or are you going to join us?" Cregan asked, and your eyes shot up to him. before you could say anything, cregan continued. "Your dear sister told me about what it was like growing up with you." You blush heavily. "Targaryens and their queer customs. But tradition is tradition. And us northmen are big on tradition."

Jace stands there, mouth wide open, not sure what to say.

"Jace, if you are going to stand and watch, could you at least shut the door?" Jace scurries to shut the door and put his sword back, clearly still shocked at the situation he has found himself in.

"Come, my young prince," cregan says as he gets up, "i want to see how you pleasured her in the south. She is always saying how much she misses you."

You roll over to your stomach as Cregan walks over to clap a hand on Jace's shoulder.

"My dear brother, I do not think I have ever seen you so speechless." you tease.

Jace looks at you, and then Cregan, and then back to you.

"Are you sure?" he looks more nervous than he did the day he claimed Vermax.

"It'll be just like old times, brother. You always did have your way with me, it will just include my other favorite man this time." you purr.

You push yourself off the bed, and walk over to where Cregan and Jace are standing. You are just as naked as you were the day you were born, and you know this is his favorite way to see you. You stroke his cheek and breathily kiss his neck. Your hands roam, pushing off his cloak in one motion and beginning to unbutton his tunic. Cregan retreats to the foot of the bed to watch. You smile against Jace's neck as he begins to relax, and you move his hands to the small of your back.

[haveihitanerve]

Batboys centric in which they come to the realization that Bruce is pretty (not romantically, the kind of pretty when you look at your mom's wedding photos and see her in an amazing dress).

Bruce isn't used to people seeing him as pretty, but her Brucie Wayne persona because that's the whole point of it.

ohohoho i have a hunch this is you and also this is sooooo interesting... lemme see what i got-

“Do you want to come to the tavern with me?” 

The words caught Dick off guard. Both because he hadn’t heard anyone say “tavern” in years, and because Bruce had said it.

“Um?” He glanced up from where he was sprawled over the couch, looking away from his phone. “Yeah? Sure?”

Bruce hummed, reaching up a hand as though to run it through his hair, then thought better of it, and dropped it again. For good reason too.

Dick tripped as he stood, eyes glued to his father, blown wide. Bruce frowned, glancing down at himself.

“What's wrong?” He asked, concerned.

Dick’s cheeks burned and he ducked under Bruce’s arm, heading up the stairs. “Nothing, nothing, I’m just gonna get changed.” He muttered, hurrying up the stairs and ducking behind the corner.

Because what the fuck.

Dick peeked back out, daring a glance back down the stairs at his Dad.

Bruce was wearing a loose fitted light pink tank top, tucked half heartedly into deep navy slacks, hair styled away from his face in a way that clearly revealed his age.

It wasn’t to say that Dick had never seen his Dad in different versions of undressed. Quite the contrary. Their line of work required levels of nudity, whether while dressing an injury, showering, or working their secret identity personas.

But this… Dick shook his head, heading to his room to grab some clothes to change into.

Bruce was… pretty. 

The next time it happened, Dick had witnesses. Jason and Tim were sitting in the den with him, pretending to watch a movie.

Truly, only Jason was actually focused on the story, as it was a movie that had come out when he’d been dead, but Tim would look up on occasion, usually only to draw Jason into a quick debate before dropping his attention back to his phone.

Dick himself was listening to the movie like an audiobook, a real book propped up halfheartedly on his stomach.

“Tim, could you help me quickly?” Bruce called, a moment before he entered the den.

Tim dropped his phone, eager for an excuse to have some work to do, faltering only for a second when he realized the task wasn't case work. No, instead it was much much worse.

Dick lifted his book, cheeks burning, as Jason stared, eyes wide, jaw dropped.

Tim, however, seemed completely unbothered, hands moving quickly and effortlessly to help Bruce out before he dropped back into the seat.

Bruce ruffled his hair with a light smile, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Thanks Timmy. Boys.” He nodded at his eldest and exited again.

“Tim.” Jason hissed the second he was out of hearing, and Dick dropped his book.

Tim, who had returned to his phone, completely unruffled, glanced up, frowning when he spotted their gagged expressions. “What?” He asked, puzzled.

“You just-” Jason floundered.

“You just helped lace Bruce up in a corset.” Dick hissed. Tim blinked, mind whirring.

“Yes?” He finally agreed, still perplexed. “And this is important because…??”

“He’s pretty.” Jason scowled.

Tim laughed. “Guys, you do realize that our Dad is Bruce Wayne right??? The guy who wins every fashion contest? The guy our classmates call hotter than Superman?? The one person where guys go “i’m not gay but…” and girls go “i’m not straight but…” That Bruce Wayne, yeah?”

Dick scowled. “Yes. We’re aware. I’ve had to deal with those comments about him for much longer than you ever have.” He shot petulantly.

Tim raised his hands, brows furrowed. “Then what's the big deal???”

“We know he’s hot.” Jason snapped. “But he’s… he’s just.” He looked at Dick for help.

“He’s never been pretty.” Dick supplied. “Hot, yeah sure, handsome, okay, sexy, ugh, fine. But- but pretty??? He can’t leave the house like that. My ears will never recover.”

Jason nodded his agreement, looking like a grim military general at war and not a child discussing his fathers attraction level.

Tim looked at both of them, laughed, and propped his feet up on the table, picking up his phone again, chuckling like a supervillain.

“Oh man. And y’all haven't even seen him in a dress yet.” 

um. so.. okay. Firstly, I'm so sorry for the long wait, I just uh have been really busy and unmotivated and yeah im so sorry 😭- secondly, this is not like, even close to what you asked... and i also apologize for that, but i figured better late than never? and its like... kind of in line with what you asked so... yay? anyway sorry and here and hope you like it even tho its not what you asked :)

[godhandler]

Ex-boyfriend Gojo who shows up at your house 5 years later. He looks a bit different now. 

|Souls are laid to rest after the death of the body. As for Gojo Satoru, his soul rests with you. In other words, your terrible ex-boyfriend is having way too much fun haunting you|

|satoru gojo x reader, fluff, lil bitty angst, gojo being gojo, 700 words, desi-coded reader|

previous series masterlist

Satoru flashes his 24-carat grin ear to ear when you come to. “All this 'cause you don’t take iron supplements. How many times have I told you again?” He shakes his head. “Your voodoo spicy diarrhoea jar won’t fix everything, you know.”

The human body has two directors of the nervous system. While mostly the wondrous brain lords over man, there come times that the castle of the body comes under attack by such impossibility (like a rampage by demonic forces or worse, the ghost of your terrible ex come alive) that the coward brain hides and the spinal cord, which does not have the complexity to understand emotional duress, takes control. 

“Don’t insult Chawanprash.”  Satoru might be a translucent mist after his untimely death floating in front of you and breaking all existing laws of physics. But your spinal cord does not care for such trivialities. “I’m not even anaemic anymore.” 

“Is that why a silly surprise sent you lying on the floor?” 

Ghost boy correct, says your spinal cord. Get up body, cook dinner. 

“I have to get up and cook dinner.” Your voice is too hollow for Satoru. It’s the shock sending you to robotic autopilot, he hopes, you’ve been out for a couple hours after all. It’s 2 am now. “Merry Christmas, Satoru.”

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

My love. Satoru called you that. He used to call you that. It’s been 5 years. The floor is cold. It’s Christmas. The sofa you grab to pull yourself up is soft, the walls you lean on your path to the kitchen hard. Satoru is here. Satoru called you his love. The stove is hot.  My love. Satoru’s love. 5 years ago he called the wedding off. Oven is steamy inside, a fully baked cinnamon cake sweet. Your mouth is full of cake. Warm and sweet. You created the recipe for Satoru. Satoru is a ghost now. He called you- My love. Satoru is dead. 

“Satoru is dead.” Disbelieving words slip through your mouth. You stare straight ahead at the kitchen wall, refusing to look at the ghost floating behind your shoulder. 

He doesn’t reply. 

“How are you dead? Satoru?” 

Nothing. 

“Is it that terrorist in Shibuya? I guessed it was something curse related. But I still don’t understand. How could you die?”

Nothing but a slight swish as the ghost moves. 

“How could you die?” 

Another swish– “I wish I could taste the cake, it looks incredible. Say, we could sprinkle powdered sugar on it too. And honey. Cookie crumbs, red bean paste, chocolate syrup.” 

Ah. Infinity is nothing compared to the emotional barrier Satoru surrounds himself with. Even to you. Even after death.

Not a big deal. It’s just that you’ve known him since you were in kindergarten together as babies, grew up playing together, still kept in touch even after he went away to study jujutsu and you to art college, supported him through the pit he fell into after Geto’s defection, officially dated for four years and engaged for one until he called it quits. 

But hey, it’s not like your story ended there. It wasn't all so tragic. Break ups happen everyday.

Life goes on. He had his life and you had yours. The work report was due on Saturday. Your elderly neighbour needed help moving their fridge. Satoru blocked you on everything a week later. Your cousin had a baby shower. Taxes have to be filed soon. Your mom broke her hip, needed to be driven to the hospital. Whispers said that he’s found a woman to marry, that she’s the one, some said it’s all idle gossip, they’re just close friends and nothing more. You got a promotion at work. The washing machine had to be fixed. Mom needed help getting around so you moved in with her temporarily. Taxes again. Your cousin had another baby shower, a little girl this time. Life goes on. 

It’s fine. 

You sit with your mug of mulled wine and cinnamon cake at the dinner table. You’ve kept the same apartment all these years, it’s a familiar memory as Satoru pulls a chair to sit beside you. His hand goes right through the cake to his despair. You laugh. He giggles.

It’s fine. 

[irisintheafterglow]

NOW PLAYING...IRIS' ROM-COM SPECIAL (20s)

SELECT YOUR LOVE INTEREST:

THE SWEETHEARTS: kirishima eijiro, todoroki shoto, iwaizumi hajime, bachira meguru, umemiya hajime, kaminari denki. THE PLAYBOYS: gojo satoru, hoshina soshiro, kuroo tetsurou, takami keigo/hawks, miya atsumu. THE BROODERS: sakusa kiyoomi, bakugo katsuki, suna rintaro, roronoa zoro, itoshi sae. THE WILDCARDS: nanami kento, miya osamu, itoshi rin, geto suguru, todoroki touya.

SELECT YOUR SCREENING:

1. 10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU - A newcomer underclassman crushes on your sister, and pulls some strings to get you to go out with the reckless bad boy that is oddly charming. STARRING: ITOSHI RIN 2. LEGALLY BLONDE - Your boyfriend breaks up with you because he's going to law school, so you follow him. What do you do when he decides it's over, even when you're there? Fall for your professor's junior partner, of course! 3. THE PROPOSAL - Your boss asks you for a favor: marry him so he doesn't get kicked from the country. The problem? You're going with him when he proposes to you on holiday at his family home. STARRING: GOJO SATORU 4. 27 DRESSES - You're a bridesmaid for hire whose boss falls in love with your sister. And she wants you to plan her wedding. And the guy who helped you not get a concussion is stupidly cute. STARRING: ITOSHI SAE 5. SLEEPLESS IN SEATTLE - For the record, he doesn't believe in love anymore. But, to appease his son, he talks to the reporter on the radio. Now he has a choice to make: does he risk it all to meet you on Valentine's Day? 6. WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING - You fell in love with the cute guy that always passes you at work. When an accident puts him in a coma and his family thinks you're engaged, what do you do when you fall for his brother instead? 7. HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS - As a writer, your next big project is to create a list of what traits make men lose romantic interest. Too bad your latest target is hellbent on winning a bet of his own: to make you fall in love. STARRING: MIYA ATSUMU 8. THE WEDDING PLANNER - On the eve of celebrating your greatest career achievement, you're saved from imminent disaster by the man of your dreams. Unfortunately, he's engaged...and is hiring you to be his wedding planner. 9. ALWAYS BE MY MAYBE - On again, off again, you and your childhood best friend went separate ways in life. Back in your hometown for the opening of your first restaurant, you don't expect to see him again. Or expect to see that he's hot. STARRING: MIYA OSAMU 10. LA LA LAND - One was a burnt out actor. One was an aspiring jazz musician. Need I say more? 11. THE WEDDING DATE - You have the genius idea of hiring a male escort to accompany you to your sibling's wedding, and find there's more to him than his physique. 12. 50 FIRST DATES - Whether it's a blessing or a curse, the effects of an accident on your brain cause you to fall in love with him again...and again...and again...and again...and... 13. TO ALL THE BOYS I'VE LOVED BEFORE - Your sister sends the letters you'd written to every boy you'd had a crush on. Fake dating and chaos ensues. STARRING: IWAIZUMI HAJIME

TO RESERVE YOUR SEAT:

Send me an ask with your love interest and your rom-com title/number, and that's it! I'll add the character to this masterpost and tag you (unless you'd like to be anonymous!) on the final post. Click HERE to send your request!

Requests will continue to be taken until the end of January or all spots are full! (subject to change depending on demand) Tags for this event will all be under #irisromcomspecial

One character per rom-com please, but if you'd like to make multiple requests, feel free! Questions? Feel free to send an ask or leave a comment!

DIRECTOR'S NOTES:

EEK okay so this is my first ever event and it's for my birthday :) I'm a huge fan of rom-coms so I gathered some of my favorites of all time to apply some new characters to and hopefully make you want to watch (or rewatch) them too! I'm very excited to host this event and hopefully have some fun fics released in the process. Thank you all so much for your support on my blog, I appreciate it more than you'll ever know. Disney+ banner was made by me, heart dividers are by the wonderful @cafekitsune !

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ my girl, my man

chapter summary: You and Logan plan for your wedding.

word count: 9.9k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: i could've dragged out them getting engaged (i couldn't help myself) and i could've dragged out them finally getting married (i just couldn't help it😭).

also, i meant to post this a few hours ago, but i had a dentist appointment and the roads here in texas are awful. so, if you live in california, stay safe! and if you are in texas, stay warm! xoxo

(you can imagine whatever ring you'd like, but i got bored one day and searched around for a vintage ring so here's what it looks like)

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, fluff, summer break, wedding, honeymoon

series masterlist - chapter 1 → chapter 3

“Do you think we’re missin’ something?” Jean wondered aloud.

Scott didn’t look up from his book, “about what?”

“About Y/N and—”

“Oh, yes. I thought I was the only one,” Ororo said, her tone carrying the faintest hint of amusement as she looked up from her book. She exchanged a knowing glance with Jean, who sat cross-legged on the couch across the room.

“Wait,” Jean said, closing the folder she’d been reviewing. “You’ve noticed it too?”

“Of course,” Ororo replied, leaning back in her chair with a small smirk. “It’s hard not to, the way Logan’s been acting.”

Scott finally looked up from his own book, his brow furrowed. “What are you two going on about?”

Jean rolled her eyes affectionately, setting the folder aside. “Come on, Scott. You must’ve noticed how Logan is with Y/N.”

“Not really,” Scott said with a shrug, earning an incredulous laugh from Jean.

“Men,” Ororo muttered under her breath, shaking her head. “He’s softer around her, more patient. Haven’t you seen the way he looks at her? It’s... different.”

Jean nodded, her expression thoughtful. “It’s not just that. It’s different than before. When me and Scott went to the store yesterday Logan asked for mango juice and yogurt-covered pretzels. Now who’s the only person we know who even likes those things?”

Ororo’s smirk grew. “Y/N.”

“Exactly,” Jean said, leaning forward. “I’m telling you, something’s shifted. They’ve always been close, but now? It’s like… there’s an extra layer to it.”

Ororo set her book aside, her tone teasing. “I’ve noticed other things too. She asked me for a bunch of yeast and some other ingredients last week—odd things for the lab. Then, two days later, she came by looking flustered, mumbling something about brewing beer. My guess? She’s making it for him.”

Jean grinned. “That sounds like her. She’s so shy about doing anything big, but she puts so much thought into the little things.”

Scott, still sitting with his arms crossed, frowned. “So, what? They’re dating. We all know that.”

“Yes, but this is different,” Jean insisted. “Logan’s been... softer, more relaxed. And Y/N? She’s been letting herself open up more. They’ve always had a connection, but this feels… more serious.”

Ororo nodded. “And the PDA. Don’t get me wrong, they’re not exactly hanging off each other in public, but it’s there. A little more than usual.”

Scott still didn’t look convinced. “I think you’re reading too much into this. Logan’s always been protective of her, and she’s been trying to come out of her shell. That doesn’t mean anything’s changed.”

Jean sighed, exchanging a look with Ororo. “You can be so dense sometimes, Scott.”

“Hey, I’m just saying! Logan’s Logan. He doesn’t strike me as the type to do anything halfway, but I’m not seeing what you two are apparently seeing.”

Ororo shrugged. “Give it time. You’ll notice eventually.”

---

Scott was heading down the main hall when he caught sight of Logan walking toward him. Logan had his usual brisk stride, but the large stack of magazines in his arms gave Scott pause.

“Logan,” Scott called, stepping into his path. “What’s with the reading material?”

Logan slowed to a stop, glancing down at the stack in his arms. Bridal magazines, at least half a dozen of them, with glossy covers featuring elaborate white dresses and floral arrangements.

He barely missed a beat. “For the fire,” Logan said gruffly, his tone so deadpan it took Scott a moment to respond.

“For the fire?” Scott echoed, his brow furrowing.

“Yeah. Fireplace needs kindling,” Logan replied, his expression unreadable as he shifted the magazines under one arm.

Before Scott could press further, Jean approached, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of the magazines. “Logan, is that…?”

“Magazines,” Logan cut in, his voice low. “For the fire. Don’t read into it.”

Jean’s lips twitched, barely holding back a smile. “Uh-huh.”

Logan let out a low grunt, clearly uninterested in continuing the conversation, and walked off without another word, leaving Jean and Scott standing in the hall.

Jean turned to Scott, her eyebrows raised. “Still think we’re imagining things?”

Scott glanced back at Logan’s retreating figure, the bridal magazines tucked under his arm. “…Okay, maybe something is going on.”

Jean smirked. “Told you.”

---

You rolled out from under the Blackbird with wire cutters laying on your stomach and an electric screwdriver in your hand. “Alright, fixed it. Still don’t know why you couldn’t ask Scott.”

Jean rolled her eyes, “I did. And he said ‘later’. It’s been 4 days.”

You gave her a small smile. “Figures.”

Sliding the wire cutters onto the small tool tray beside you, you sat up, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. Jean crouched down next to you, handing over a clean rag.

“Thanks,” you said, taking it to wipe the faint smudge of grease off your arms.

“Not bad for a physics professor,” Jean teased, her tone warm.

You shrugged, pulling off the gloves with a small tug. “I’ve picked up a few things here and there.”

Ororo, perched nearby with her arms crossed and a bemused expression, added, “If you weren’t so dedicated to teaching, I’d say you might have a future in mechanics.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “I’ll leave the big repairs to Hank. I just know enough to get by.”

As you spoke, you folded the gloves neatly and set them on the tray. That’s when Jean’s eyes caught something—a glint of light on your left hand.

Her brow furrowed slightly as she tilted her head. “Y/N… is that—?”

You glanced at her, confused for a moment, before realizing what had caught her attention. Your engagement ring, a delicate band with an antique setting, was visible now that the gloves were off.

“Oh,” you said softly, instinctively touching the ring with your thumb. A shy smile tugged at your lips.

Jean’s eyes widened, a mix of surprise and delight flashing across her face. “Wait a second. When did this happen?”

Ororo stepped closer, her curiosity piqued. “What’s she talking about?”

Jean pointed at your hand. “Look at her ring finger.”

Ororo’s gaze followed, and her eyebrows lifted. “Well, well, well. I didn’t realize we had a bride-to-be among us.”

Your cheeks warmed under their scrutiny. “It’s… recent,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jean’s grin grew as she leaned in, her tone playful. “And by ‘recent,’ you mean…?”

“Two… maybe three weeks,” you said, trying not to squirm under her gaze.

Ororo let out a low whistle. “And you didn’t tell us?”

You looked between the two of them, your fingers fiddling with the ring. “We weren’t keeping it a secret. It just… hasn’t come up.”

Jean crossed her arms, clearly unconvinced. “Hasn’t come up? You’ve been engaged for weeks, and none of us noticed?”

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of nervousness and amusement. “Well… Logan and I aren’t exactly the ‘big announcement’ type.”

Ororo chuckled. “That, I believe. But still, congratulations are in order. It’s beautiful, Y/N.”

Jean nodded, her eyes softening as she looked at you. “It really is. And it suits you.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, glancing at the ring again. Despite the attention, there was a quiet happiness bubbling inside you.

Jean gave you a knowing look. “So… when were you planning on telling the rest of us? Or were we just supposed to figure it out on our own?”

“I wasn’t sure how to bring it up,” you admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “And Logan—well, you know how he is.”

Jean laughed. “Yeah, I can imagine his reaction to a big group toast.” She put on a gruff voice, imitating him. “‘No need to make a fuss.’”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Exactly.”

Ororo smiled warmly, her teasing tone softening. “Well, fuss or no fuss, we’re happy for you. And you better let us know if there’s a wedding date.”

“Of course,” you promised, the warmth in their voices making you feel more at ease.

Jean reached over, giving your hand a quick squeeze. “Congratulations, Y/N. You two deserve this.”

“Thanks,” you said again, this time with more confidence.

Before the conversation could go any further, Logan’s voice carried down the hall. “Darlin’? You done with the jet?”

You turned toward the sound, seeing him leaning casually in the doorway. His usual gruff expression softened as his eyes met yours.

“Yeah, all set,” you called back, standing and brushing off your jeans.

Logan gave a small nod but didn’t move, his gaze lingering on you in that way that made your heart flutter.

Jean smirked, glancing at Ororo. “And there he is.”

“Don’t,” you muttered under your breath, feeling your cheeks flush again.

Ororo laughed softly, but neither she nor Jean said anything more. As you walked toward Logan, you caught the amused glances they exchanged, but you didn’t mind.

Logan met you halfway, his hand resting briefly on your lower back as you joined him. “Ready to head in?”

“Yeah,” you said, the warmth of his touch grounding you.

As the two of you walked away, you could still hear Jean and Ororo chuckling behind you, but Logan didn’t ask, and you didn’t offer an explanation. Some things were just better left between the two of you.

---

“Please?” you said, drawing the word out with an exaggerated pout as you held up the scissors, comb, and spray bottle. Your tone was teasing, but your eyes carried a hopeful glint.

Logan crossed his arms, his expression skeptical. “Darlin’, I’m tellin’ ya, it’s fine. It doesn’t need fixin’.”

You arched a brow, stepping closer. “Logan, it’s summer, and your hair’s gettin’ way too long in the back. I’m not saying you need a whole new look, just a trim.”

He gave a low grunt, clearly unconvinced, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “I’ve been dealin’ with this hair longer than you’ve been alive. It’s manageable.”

“Sure it is,” you said, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “But wouldn’t it be more manageable if it wasn’t sticking out at weird angles?”

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” you said sweetly.

He stared at you for a long moment before shaking his head. “Alright, fine. But on one condition.”

Your eyes lit up. “Name it.”

A slow, mischievous grin spread across his face. “We do it outside, and you sit on my lap while you’re at it.”

Your cheeks immediately warmed, and you stared at him, wide-eyed. “Logan,” you began, your voice dropping in embarrassment.

“What?” he said with a smirk. “You wanted this, didn’t ya? Gotta make it worth my while.”

You huffed, but your lips quirked up in a small smile despite your best efforts. “Fine,” you said, trying to sound exasperated. “But don’t blame me if you end up with a lopsided cut.”

Logan chuckled, his hand settling on your lower back as he guided you toward the back patio. The warm summer air greeted you as the two of you stepped outside. The mansion’s sprawling yard stretched out around you, the sun casting a golden glow over the lawn and the distant trees.

Logan grabbed one of the sturdy wooden chairs from the patio table and plopped down, spreading his legs slightly as he leaned back with a lazy grin. He patted his thigh. “Hop on.”

You hesitated for a moment, glancing around to make sure no one else was nearby. Though Logan wasn’t shy about showing affection, you were still getting used to moments like this. When the coast was clear, you let out a breath and moved to sit sideways on his lap. He shook his head, catching your waist and turning you so you straddled him instead.

“There,” he said, his voice low and pleased. “Much better.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips as you picked up the spray bottle and gave his hair a quick spritz. He leaned back, his hands resting casually on your hips while you combed through his damp locks.

“You know,” you said, keeping your tone light as you snipped at the ends, “this is kind of nice. Just us, the fresh air…”

Logan’s lips quirked. “Don’t get too used to it, darlin’. This is a one-time deal.”

“Sure it is,” you teased, snipping another section. “I’ll remind you of that next time your hair gets out of control.”

He gave a low chuckle, and you felt his thumb brush lightly against your side. It was such a small, unconscious gesture, but it sent a warm flutter through your chest. You leaned in a little closer, focusing on your task.

“Y/N!” Jean’s voice rang out from somewhere near the house, and your head whipped up in alarm. “Have you seen—oh.”

Jean rounded the corner, her steps slowing as she took in the sight of you perched on Logan’s lap, scissors in hand. Her lips twitched, clearly fighting a grin. ���Am I interrupting something?”

You felt your cheeks flame, and you tried to slide off Logan’s lap, but his hands on your hips held you firmly in place. “Jean,” you said, your voice higher-pitched than usual. “I was just… cutting Logan’s hair.”

“Right,” Jean said, crossing her arms and giving you a knowing look. “Because clearly, that’s the only thing happening here.”

Logan, unbothered, smirked up at her. “You need somethin’, Red?”

Jean waved a hand dismissively. “Nope, nothing that can’t wait. Carry on.” She turned to leave but not before shooting you a wink over her shoulder. “Nice technique, Y/N.”

“Jean!” you called after her, but she was already walking away, laughing softly to herself.

You groaned, covering your face with one hand. Logan’s chest rumbled with laughter beneath you.

“Relax, darlin’. Let her have her fun.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, narrowing your eyes. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted with a grin, his hands squeezing your waist gently. “But hey, you wanted to do this, remember?”

You sighed, but a reluctant smile tugged at your lips as you went back to trimming. “I’m never living this down, am I?”

“Not a chance,” Logan said, his voice warm and full of affection.

---

Logan reached his hand out haphazardly to close the bedroom door, the motion almost careless in his urgency. His other hand remained firmly planted on your lower back, guiding you with surprising gentleness as your lips stayed locked.

The click of the door shutting barely registered before he backed you into the wall, his movements smooth and deliberate. You gasped softly against his mouth, one of your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair while the other found its way to the back of his neck.

“Logan,” you murmured breathlessly, breaking the kiss for a moment, your lips brushing against his as you spoke.

“What?” His voice was low, a rough edge of amusement to it as his lips sought yours again. “You’re the one who started this, sweetheart.”

Your laughter bubbled up, light and almost involuntary. “I did not—”

“Oh, you absolutely did,” he teased, his hands settling more firmly on your hips. He nipped at your bottom lip before pulling back just enough to look at you, his grin mischievous. “You looked at me like that, darlin’. Don’t blame me for followin’ through.”

A flush spread across your cheeks, but you couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped you as he leaned in again, capturing your lips in another kiss. This one was slower, softer, but still filled with the same electric energy that seemed to hum between the two of you whenever you were close.

You tightened your arms around his shoulders, fingers pressing lightly into his skin. He grunted softly, the sound half amusement, half approval, before his hands slid down to the backs of your thighs.

“C’mere,” he muttered, his voice husky as he gripped you firmly and lifted you effortlessly. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and he pinned you against the wall more securely, his body pressed warm and solid against yours.

“Logan!” you squeaked, a mix of laughter and surprise in your tone. “You’re gonna drop me.”

He smirked, his lips brushing along your jaw before he kissed the corner of your mouth. “I’ve got you,” he said, his tone low but teasing. “When are you gonna figure that out, huh?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could, the lights in the room flickered and then went out completely, plunging everything into sudden darkness.

You gasped softly, instinctively tightening your hold on Logan. “What just—?”

“Power’s out,” he muttered, his tone shifting to mild annoyance. He pulled back just enough for you to feel his breath against your skin. “Perfect timing.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, the absurdity of the situation cutting through the moment’s intensity. “Guess the mansion’s old wiring isn’t built for summer storms.”

“Guess not,” he grumbled, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, smiling despite yourself. “But we might want to move before someone walks in on this.”

He chuckled, his hands still steady beneath you as he adjusted his grip. “I don’t care who walks in. Let ‘em.”

“Logan,” you groaned, but you couldn’t hide the grin in your voice. “Don’t even joke about that.”

He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before pulling back with a smirk. “Alright, alright. Let’s get you down.”

He set you on your feet gently, his hands lingering on your hips for a moment longer before stepping back. Even in the dim lighting, you could see the playful glint in his eyes.

“Maybe we finish this later,” he said, his voice low and warm.

You nodded, biting your lip to suppress another smile. “Maybe.”

As you both moved to find a flashlight, the sound of voices and footsteps echoed faintly down the hall. The chaos of the power outage was clearly drawing everyone out of their rooms, and you shot Logan a knowing look.

“See?” you whispered, smirking. “Someone was bound to walk in.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but the small, satisfied smile on his face told you he wasn’t too worried about it.

---

You might’ve gotten a bit carried away looking at magazines instead of working on your research. The lab was quiet, save for the soft hum of equipment, and you’d tucked yourself into a corner with a stack of physics journals. But one wedding magazine Logan had given you sat on top of your pile, its glossy pages begging to be flipped through. Before you knew it, you were lost in images of lace trains and intricate veils, your fingers idly twisting a strand of hair.

“Hmm, wedding dresses?”

Jean’s teasing voice pulled you from your daydream. You jumped, snapping the magazine shut and turning red. “Jean! I—uh, it’s not what it looks like. I was just…taking a break.”

Jean smirked, plucking the magazine from your hands. She flipped it open to a page you’d dog-eared. “Sure, just a break,” she said, her tone laced with playful skepticism. “You’ve already got a few favorites marked. This one’s beautiful,” she added, pointing to a gown with delicate floral embroidery.

You pushed your glasses up nervously. “I mean, yeah, but it’s too soon, right? Logan and I haven’t even set a date yet…”

Jean ignored your protests, holding up the magazine like it was her life’s mission. “Nonsense. Come on, let’s go into town and try some on.”

Your eyes widened. “Try them on? Jean, no—I couldn’t! What if someone sees? What if—”

“Relax,” she said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “It’s summer break, most of the students are gone, and you deserve a little fun. Besides,” her lips quirked in a knowing smile, “Logan gave you this magazine for a reason. You think he’d mind?”

You hesitated, torn between your shy instincts and Jean’s infectious enthusiasm. Finally, you relented. “Fine. But just for fun.”

---

The bridal boutique was a cozy, sunlit space tucked away on a quiet street. Jean wasted no time pulling dresses from the racks while you lingered nervously near the dressing rooms.

“This one,” Jean said, holding up a sleek satin gown, “or this one?” She gestured to a gown with layers of delicate tulle.

“They’re both gorgeous,” you said, shifting on your feet, “but maybe too much for me…”

Jean rolled her eyes. “You’re the bride! There’s no such thing as ‘too much.’ Now, go try these on.”

The first dress was beautiful but too heavy, and the second didn’t quite feel like you. By the third, you found yourself laughing at Jean’s exaggerated commentary.

“Okay, but look at this!” she said, adjusting the train. “You could glide down the aisle like a queen.”

“Jean,” you giggled, shaking your head, “I think I’d trip over this and take Logan down with me.”

After an hour, you still hadn’t found ‘the one,’ but the experience left you feeling lighter. “Thank you,” you said as the two of you walked back to the car. “That was actually…fun.”

Jean grinned. “Told you. And now we know what styles you like. We’ll find it when the time’s right.”

---

Back at the mansion, Logan was leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping a beer, when you walked in. He raised an eyebrow at your slightly disheveled appearance. “Where’d you two run off to?”

Jean, smirking, answered before you could. “Tried on wedding dresses.” Logan’s gaze immediately snapped to you, and his lips twitched into a small smile. Jean patted your arm. “I’ll leave you two to it,” she said, disappearing down the hall.

You shifted nervously, tugging at your sleeves. “It was her idea,” you blurted out, feeling the need to explain. “I wasn’t—well, I mean, we didn’t find anything. And it’s probably too soon anyway, right? We don’t have a date or a venue or—”

“Darlin’.” Logan’s deep voice cut through your rambling. He stepped closer, his hands gently settling on your arms. “You don’t have to plan every detail right now.”

You looked up at him, your cheeks warm. “But—”

He shook his head, a rare softness in his expression. “I don’t care what you wear or where it happens. Hell, we could go to a courthouse tomorrow and sign the damn papers for all I care.” His voice dipped, quiet and rough with emotion. “I’m just happy I finally get to marry you.”

His words hit you like a wave, their weight sinking in as you stared at him. “Logan…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He cupped your cheek, brushing his thumb gently over your skin. “What matters is you, sweetheart. That’s it.”

Your chest tightened, a mix of overwhelming love and relief bubbling up. You leaned into his touch, a small, teary smile breaking through. “Okay,” you murmured, resting your forehead against his. “I guess I can live with that.”

“Good,” he said, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Because you’re already perfect to me.”

---

This was a mistake.

One big, grand mistake.

Your chest heaved as you bent down with your hands on your knees, sweat dripping down your back. The morning sun filtered through the high windows of the mansion’s gym, but it offered no comfort. You were a mess—hair sticking to your face, glasses fogged up, and your lungs protesting every second of this so-called ‘workout.’

“This,” you panted, glaring at Logan, “was a mistake.”

Logan smirked, unbothered as he stood nearby, arms crossed over his broad chest. He was barely sweating, his usual tank top clinging just enough to show off his ridiculous muscles. “You’re the one who said you wanted to get stronger.”

“I didn’t know you’d try to kill me,” you shot back, collapsing onto a nearby mat. Your legs were jelly, your pride in shambles, and Logan looked way too amused.

He sauntered over, grabbing a towel from the bench. “You’re not dead,” he said casually. “You’re just outta shape.”

You groaned, throwing an arm over your face. “You’ve been alive for 100-something-years or whatever. Cut me some slack.”

“That’s not how it works, darlin’.” His voice was teasing, but there was a hint of warmth beneath it. He crouched next to you, the scent of his woodsy cologne mixed with sweat making your stomach flutter. “You gotta keep at it.”

You peeked out from under your arm, watching as he leaned closer. Logan reached out with the towel, gently wiping your forehead. “Thanks,” you mumbled, your cheeks heating from more than just exertion.

He didn’t stop there. The towel traveled down to your neck, then lower, dabbing at the sweat gathering at your collarbone. You tried not to squirm, but when he moved to the beginnings of your cleavage with a cheeky smirk, you slapped his hand away.

“Logan!” you hissed, sitting up abruptly, your face now definitely on fire.

“What?” he asked, his expression the picture of innocence. “Just helpin’ out.”

You glared at him, but the effect was ruined by the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “You’re impossible.”

He shrugged, tossing the towel over his shoulder and standing up. “Yeah, but you love me.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t argue with that. “I’m never working out with you again,” you grumbled as you stood, wobbling slightly.

“Sure you are.” Logan’s hand shot out to steady you, his grip firm but gentle. “You just need the right motivation.”

“And what’s that supposed to be?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

He leaned in, his voice dropping to that gravelly tone that always made your heart skip. “Maybe I’ll tell ya if you survive the next session.”

You groaned, pushing past him toward the water cooler. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he called after you, his laughter echoing in the gym. “You love me, remember?”

You muttered something under your breath that made him chuckle even harder, but despite your protests, you couldn’t stop the small smile from forming as you took a long sip of water. Maybe—just maybe—you’d let him drag you back here again. But next time, you were bringing Jean for backup.

---

“How did venue hunting go?” Jean asked, walking into the foyer where you and Logan just entered.

You let out a huff as you took off your jacket, your purse and notebook in Logan’s hands. He responded for you, “none of ‘em fit her standards.”

The jacket was draped over your arm as you snatched the notebook out of Logan’s hands. “They’re not high standards,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him.

Logan shrugged, clearly unimpressed. “Looked like every venue had a list of what they didn’t have instead of what they did.”

“That’s not true!” You flipped open the notebook, pages filled with scribbles, sticky notes, and circled bullet points. “I just want a place that works for everyone. Is that too much to ask?”

Jean smirked from where she leaned against the foyer wall. “Define ‘works for everyone.’”

You gestured with the notebook, tapping on your list. “It has to be wheelchair accessible for Charles. Child-friendly because the students will want to attend. Not too stuffy, so Logan doesn’t feel out of place—”

“Darlin’, I’m out of place everywhere,” Logan cut in with a smirk.

You ignored him, continuing, “And not too far from the mansion so the team can help in case of emergencies. Oh, and it has to have enough space for dancing, good acoustics, a separate area for food—”

“You’re planning a wedding or a state summit?” Logan teased.

Jean stifled a laugh, clearly enjoying the exchange. “She’s just thorough, Logan. You should’ve seen her face when one venue didn’t have a backup generator.”

“Backup generator? For a wedding?” Logan raised an eyebrow at you.

“Have you met us?” you shot back. “I’m not risking a power outage in the middle of the first dance.”

Jean laughed outright this time, shaking her head. “I think you’ve got your work cut out for you, Logan.”

“I always do,” Logan muttered under his breath, smirking when you swatted his arm.

“Don’t act like you’re suffering,” you said, rolling your eyes as you headed toward the living room. Logan followed, still grinning. Jean waved you off with a knowing smile before disappearing toward the kitchen.

---

A few days later, you sat cross-legged on the couch in the mansion’s common area, surrounded by more open notebooks and wedding magazines. The team buzzed around you as usual, some heading out for training while others settled in for their break. Logan strolled in, a beer in hand, and plopped down beside you.

“Still at it?” he asked, glancing at the scattered mess.

You sighed, closing one of the notebooks with a soft thud. “We’re not getting anywhere. Nothing feels right.”

Logan leaned back, taking a swig of his beer. “Then stop lookin’ so hard.”

“Easy for you to say,” you muttered. “You’re not the one trying to make sure everyone’s happy.”

“Darlin’, nobody cares where it happens. They care about you.” His tone softened as he reached over to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Hell, we could do it right here, and it’d still be perfect.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Here? At the mansion?”

“Why not?” he said with a shrug. “Big lawn, plenty of space, and it’s already home for most of us.”

You hesitated, glancing around the room. “It’s… not the worst idea.”

“‘Not the worst’ is high praise coming from you,” Logan teased, earning him a half-hearted glare.

“I just mean…” You bit your lip, considering it. “Who would even decorate?”

At that moment, Rogue walked by, arms full of laundry. Logan raised his voice without missing a beat. “Hey, Rogue! You feel like decorating for a wedding?”

Rogue paused, glancing between the two of you. “Uh… sure? What kinda wedding?”

Logan smirked, gesturing toward you. “Ours.”

Her face lit up. “Oh my God! Yeah, totally! I’ll get Kitty and Jubilee to help. We’ll make it look amazing.”

You blinked, overwhelmed by how quickly she agreed. “Wait—are you sure?”

“Course I’m sure!” Rogue said, beaming. “This is gonna be fun.”

As she hurried off, Logan leaned closer, his smirk widening. “See? Problem solved.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you love me,” he said, pulling you into his side.

You didn’t bother arguing. Instead, you rested your head on his shoulder, letting yourself imagine it: the mansion’s lawn, your friends and family, and Logan waiting for you at the end of the aisle. For the first time in weeks, the thought of your wedding didn’t feel overwhelming—it felt like home.

---

This was officially your third time going wedding dress shopping, and this time Ororo had tagged along with Jean, who had practically dragged you out of the mansion with a determined look in her eyes. The three of you entered the boutique, greeted by racks of pristine white fabric, sparkling embellishments, and soft lighting that screamed bridal fantasy.

You adjusted your glasses nervously, clutching your notebook against your chest as Jean grinned at you. “This is it,” she said confidently. “Third time’s the charm.”

Ororo gave you a calm, reassuring smile. “No pressure, Y/N. Let’s just have fun with it.”

You exhaled a little laugh. “Easier said than done. Every dress I’ve tried on feels…wrong.”

Jean looped her arm through yours. “That’s because you’re overthinking it. Trust me, when you find the one, you’ll just know.”

The three of you wandered through the racks, pulling out dresses and debating the merits of lace versus satin, mermaid cuts versus A-line. Jean’s enthusiasm was contagious, and even Ororo—usually so composed—couldn’t resist chiming in with the occasional suggestion.

“I think Logan would like something simple,” Ororo said, holding up a sleek gown with minimal embellishments.

Jean snorted. “Logan would think she’s perfect in anything. He’d probably prefer she showed up in her lab coat.”

You flushed at the thought, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “He’s… not that bad.”

Jean raised an eyebrow. “Y/N, he kissed you in front of half the team last week just because you brought him a sandwich.”

“That was not—it was just a kiss on the cheek!” you protested, but your voice wavered.

Ororo chuckled, her eyes sparkling. “A lingering kiss on the cheek. We all saw it.”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “I’m going to die of embarrassment before this wedding even happens.”

Jean patted your shoulder. “If you survive Logan’s public displays of affection, you’ll survive anything.”

The teasing made you relax a little, and you found yourself smiling as the three of you continued browsing. Eventually, the shop assistant approached, her cheerful demeanor instantly putting you at ease.

“Looking for something specific?” she asked.

You hesitated. “Not really. I just…want something that feels like me.”

She nodded knowingly and began pulling a few options. One by one, you tried them on, stepping out to show Jean and Ororo each time. They offered their opinions—Jean was quick with compliments, while Ororo provided thoughtful feedback—but none of the dresses felt quite right.

Until the assistant brought out a gown you hadn’t noticed before.

It was displayed at the back of the boutique, almost tucked away as if it were waiting for someone to find it. The assistant carefully removed it from the rack and carried it over to you with a soft smile.

“This one just came in,” she explained, holding it up. The gown was breathtaking: an off-shoulder silhouette with intricate lace detailing across the bodice and delicate long sleeves. The fabric flowed into a soft, sheer train, giving it an ethereal, timeless feel.

Your breath hitched. “It’s beautiful.”

Jean’s eyes widened as she took in the dress. “Y/N, you have to try that on.”

Even Ororo, usually more reserved with her reactions, gave an approving nod. “It’s stunning. I think it might be the one.”

You hesitated, running your fingers over the delicate lace. “What if it doesn’t fit?”

Jean rolled her eyes, grabbing your shoulders and steering you toward the dressing room. “That’s what fittings are for. Go try it on. Now.”

The assistant ushered you into the dressing room, helping you into the gown. The fabric was soft against your skin, and as she adjusted the zipper, you caught your reflection in the mirror. For the first time, you felt… right.

“Ready?” the assistant asked with a knowing smile.

You nodded, stepping out tentatively. Jean and Ororo were mid-conversation but stopped as soon as they saw you.

“Oh. My. God,” Jean whispered, standing up. “Y/N, you look—wow.”

Ororo smiled warmly. “It’s perfect.”

You turned toward the mirror at the end of the room, your heart racing as you took in the sight. The dress hugged you in all the right places, the off-shoulder design framing your collarbones elegantly. The lace sleeves felt delicate but strong, and the train flowed behind you like a whisper.

“Do you think Logan will like it?” you asked softly, fidgeting with the edge of the lace.

Jean laughed, stepping beside you. “Y/N, Logan would probably think you look perfect in a potato sack. But this? He’s going to lose his mind.”

Ororo tilted her head, considering. “It suits you. It’s elegant but understated. Timeless.”

You blinked back the sudden sting of tears, overwhelmed by how right it felt. “I think… this is it.”

Jean grinned, squeezing your hand. “Finally! I told you third time’s the charm.”

The assistant beamed. “I’ll get the paperwork started and schedule a fitting to tailor it to perfection.”

As she walked away, Jean leaned closer, a mischievous glint in her eye. “So, how long do you think it’ll take Logan to rip this off you after the wedding?”

“Jean!” you squeaked, your cheeks flushing.

Ororo chuckled, shaking her head. “Some things never change.”

You buried your face in your hands, muttering, “Why did I agree to this?”

“Because you love us,” Jean teased, looping her arm through yours. “And because you knew we’d find you the perfect dress. Which we did.”

You couldn’t argue with that. For the first time since you’d started planning the wedding, you felt a sense of peace. This was happening. This was real. And you couldn’t wait to walk down the aisle and see Logan’s face when he saw you in this dress.

---

Later that evening, you were back at the mansion, lounging on the couch in the common room with a cup of tea. The dress was safely tucked away, but the memory of it lingered, making you smile softly to yourself.

Logan strolled in, fresh from a workout, a towel slung over his shoulder. He spotted you immediately, his brow quirking at your dreamy expression.

“What’s got you smilin’ like that, sweetheart?” he asked, dropping down onto the couch beside you.

You shook your head, trying to hide your grin. “Nothing.”

He gave you a look, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Nothin’, huh? That doesn’t sound suspicious at all.”

You rolled your eyes, but your blush gave you away. “Fine. I found the dress.”

Logan’s eyebrows shot up, and he leaned back, taking a long look at you. “Yeah? You happy with it?”

You nodded, the smile returning. “I think so. It feels… perfect.”

His expression softened, and he reached over, brushing a thumb along your cheek. “Good. That’s all that matters.”

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the hum of the mansion in the background. Logan’s hand found yours, his rough fingers threading through yours gently.

“You’re sure you’re okay with the mansion for the wedding?” you asked, breaking the silence.

He chuckled. “Darlin’, as long as you’re the one walkin’ toward me, I don’t care if it’s in a field, a church, or a damn parking lot.”

You laughed softly, leaning into his side. “I’m holding you to that.”

“Hold me to whatever you want,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

And in that moment, surrounded by the comfort of Logan’s presence and the thought of your future together, you couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.

---

It was three weeks away from the start of the new school year when the wedding took place. At first, you were checking on everyone—Rogue to make sure that her, Kitty, and Jubilee were making progress with the decorations outside, and on Scott and Hank who were somehow tasked with food.

At least, until Logan noticed and locked you in the makeshift bridal suite.

Jean was laughing as she turned the key in the lock, leaning against the door while you protested from the other side. “This is for your own good, Y/N! You need to relax. Everything’s under control.”

“Jean!” you called, rattling the doorknob, though your voice lacked any real anger. “I just want to check on the decorations one more time!”

“Nope,” Jean replied cheerfully through the door. “Logan’s orders. He said, and I quote, ‘she’s gonna drive herself crazy. Lock her in if you have to.’”

You groaned, leaning your forehead against the door. “I’m not crazy.”

Jean’s voice softened. “Y/N, everything’s perfect. Trust us, okay? You’ve done enough. Now let us take care of the rest.”

Ororo’s calm voice chimed in from somewhere in the room. “She’s right, you know. The decorations look beautiful. Jubilee and Kitty outdid themselves. And Scott and Hank are handling the food just fine.”

You sighed, finally stepping away from the door. “Fine. But only because I’m outnumbered.”

Jean unlocked the door and peeked her head in, grinning. “That’s the spirit.” She stepped inside, followed by Ororo, who carried a garment bag carefully over her arm. “Now, let’s focus on the fun part: getting you ready.”

You couldn’t help but smile as Ororo unzipped the bag, revealing your wedding dress. The sight of it still took your breath away. The off-shoulder gown with intricate lace detailing and long sleeves was everything you’d dreamed of, and you felt a little thrill of excitement knowing you’d soon be wearing it.

Jean gestured for you to sit down in front of the vanity, where she had already laid out an array of makeup and hair tools. “Okay, here’s the plan: Ororo’s on hair, and I’ll handle your makeup. By the time we’re done, Logan’s gonna lose his mind.”

You laughed softly, settling into the chair. “He’d better not. I don’t want him passing out before the ceremony.”

Ororo chuckled as she began gently brushing through your hair. “I think Logan’s been ready for this day since the moment he met you.”

Jean smiled warmly, her hands deftly organizing the makeup. “He really has. It’s sweet, actually. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so happy.”

Your cheeks flushed at their words, but you couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through your chest. Logan had been a constant in your life, his gruff exterior hiding a heart that had always been devoted to you. The thought of him waiting for you at the end of the aisle made your nerves fade, replaced by anticipation.

“Okay, close your eyes,” Jean instructed, and you obeyed, letting her work her magic. The soft strokes of the brush and the hum of conversation between her and Ororo were soothing, and for the first time all day, you felt yourself relaxing.

By the time they were finished, you barely recognized yourself in the mirror. Your hair was styled in soft waves, pinned delicately to one side with small, sparkling clips. Jean’s makeup was subtle but elegant, enhancing your features without overwhelming them. You looked… radiant.

“Wow,” you breathed, turning your head slightly to take it all in. “You two are amazing.”

Jean grinned, squeezing your shoulder. “We aim to please.”

Ororo helped you into your dress, carefully fastening the buttons along the back. Once the gown was in place, she stepped back, her smile warm and approving. “You’re ready, Y/N.”

You turned to face the full-length mirror, your breath catching at the sight. The dress fit perfectly, the lace shimmering softly in the light. It was everything you’d hoped for and more.

Jean wiped at the corner of her eye dramatically. “I’m not crying. You’re crying.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Thank you, both of you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Ororo placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “That’s what friends are for.”

There was a knock at the door, and Rogue’s voice called out. “Y/N? It’s time.”

Your heart skipped a beat as Jean and Ororo exchanged excited smiles. Ororo grabbed your bouquet, a beautiful arrangement of white roses and greenery, and handed it to you. “Let’s get you married.”

The three of you made your way downstairs, the sound of soft music drifting through the mansion. The transformation of the lawn was breathtaking. Rows of chairs lined the grass, adorned with white ribbons and small floral arrangements. An archway covered in more roses stood at the end of the aisle, with Charles waiting beneath it, his wheelchair positioned just so.

And there, standing at the end of the aisle, was Logan. Dressed in a sharp black suit, he looked both rugged and unbearably handsome, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath catch. He looked as though nothing else in the world existed but you.

Jean gave your hand a squeeze before stepping aside to join Scott, and Ororo took her place with the other bridesmaids. Rogue beamed at you as she adjusted your train one last time. “Go get him, girl.”

You took a deep breath, your fingers tightening around your bouquet, and then you began to walk. The world seemed to blur around you, the murmurs of the guests fading into the background as Logan’s gaze held yours. Every step brought you closer to him, to the life you were about to begin together.

When you reached the end of the aisle, Logan took your hand, his grip warm and steady. He leaned in slightly, his voice low but filled with emotion. “You’re beautiful, darlin’.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

Logan’s mouth quirked into a soft smirk, but there was an unmistakable warmth in his eyes. “Didn’t want to embarrass you, darlin’. Figured I’d at least try to look the part.”

You chuckled softly, feeling the nerves melt away now that you were standing in front of him. “You look perfect.”

Logan reached up, his hand brushing lightly over yours where you gripped the bouquet. “Not as perfect as you.”

Before you could respond, Charles cleared his throat gently, his voice calm but filled with quiet authority. “Shall we begin?”

Logan’s hand tightened just slightly on yours as you both turned toward Charles, who was seated in his wheelchair beneath the archway. Behind him, the soft rustling of leaves and the faint hum of summer added a serene backdrop to the moment.

Charles’s expression was serene as he looked between you and Logan. “Today is a celebration—not only of love but of the journey that brought these two together. A journey that, I suspect, was not without its share of challenges.” His eyes twinkled with a hint of knowing, though he didn’t elaborate. “Yet here you stand, hand in hand, ready to face the future together.”

Logan’s thumb rubbed gently over the back of your hand, a quiet reassurance. You glanced up at him and found his gaze still fixed on you, steady and unshakable. It was as if the entire world could collapse around you, and Logan wouldn’t notice or care as long as you were by his side.

Charles continued, his tone gentle and deliberate. “Marriage is not just a bond but a partnership. It is built on trust, respect, and an unyielding commitment to each other. And, knowing the two of you as I do, I have no doubt that your bond is as strong as the adamantium in Logan’s skeleton.”

That earned a quiet chuckle from the guests, even Logan’s lips twitching into a smirk. You felt the corners of your mouth lift too, though your heart was pounding in your chest. Charles’s words resonated deeply, a reminder of everything you and Logan had been through to reach this moment.

Charles’s gaze softened as he addressed Logan. “Logan, do you take Y/N to be your wife? To stand by her side through every challenge, to share in her joys, and to love her fiercely for as long as you live?”

Logan didn’t hesitate for a second. “I do.”

The firmness in his voice sent a shiver through you. There was no doubt, no reservation—just pure, unwavering certainty.

Charles turned his attention to you, his expression kind. “And Y/N, do you take Logan to be your husband? To stand by his side through every challenge, to share in his joys, and to love him fiercely for as long as you live?”

Your voice came out soft but steady, the words carrying every ounce of truth you felt. “I do.”

Charles nodded, his hands resting on the arms of his wheelchair. “By the power vested in me and with the love and support of everyone here, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Logan, you may kiss the bride.”

Logan didn’t need to be told twice. He stepped closer, his hands finding your waist as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and filled with passion. The cheers and applause from the guests barely registered as you melted into him, the world fading away until it was just the two of you.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his voice low and gruff but filled with emotion. “We did it, sweetheart.”

You smiled, your fingers brushing over the lapels of his suit jacket. “We did.”

The applause grew louder as Logan took your hand, turning to face the guests. You caught sight of Jean wiping her eyes dramatically, grinning as Scott shook his head in amusement. Ororo and Rogue both looked radiant, their smiles wide as they joined the applause.

As the two of you made your way down the aisle, Logan’s hand never left yours, his grip steady and reassuring. The world felt brighter, lighter, as if every piece had finally fallen into place. You were married.

---

You walked with your eyes closed, your fingers intertwined with Logan's as he guided you through the bustling streets of Paris. The sounds of the city surrounded you—the distant hum of cars, the chatter of people, and the occasional soft clink of a café cup—but it all felt muffled, as if the world was holding its breath for the moment you’d finally open your eyes.

Logan’s grip on your hand was steady, comforting. It was an anchor, reminding you that this moment, this moment with him, was real. His voice, gruff yet affectionate, came from just above you. “Just a little bit further, darlin’,” he murmured. “Trust me.”

“Logan, this better not be some kind of elaborate prank,” you joked, trying to suppress your smile. “You know how easily I get nervous when I don’t know what’s going on.”

He chuckled softly, the sound warm in your chest. “No pranks. Just wait, you’ll see. You’re gonna love it.”

You had no idea where you were going or what he had planned. It was just you and him, alone in the magic of Paris. You’d never been this far from the mansion before, and the city felt like a whole new world, full of promise and adventure.

The air smelled different here, cleaner somehow, and there was a faint coolness to the evening breeze. You could hear the distant sounds of tourists and Parisians going about their evening, but it all felt so far away as Logan led you further down the sidewalk.

Finally, Logan stopped walking. You could sense the change in his posture, a subtle shift in how he held you.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he said, his voice lowering to a more serious tone. “Open your eyes.”

You hesitated for a moment before slowly lifting your eyelids, the city’s lights momentarily blinding you as you adjusted. And then—there it was.

The Eiffel Tower. Towering before you, it glittered with thousands of lights, shining bright against the darkening sky. But it wasn’t just the Eiffel Tower that took your breath away. Above it, the sky was painted with the vivid greens, purples, and blues of the Northern Lights.

You gasped, your eyes darting between the two spectacular sights before landing on Logan. “Logan… how… how did you know this was happening? The Northern Lights don’t usually appear in the summer…”

He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Guess I know a few things about the world you don’t, darlin’.” He paused, taking in your stunned expression. “I might’ve had a little help, but I wanted tonight to be perfect for you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “This… this is perfect,” you whispered, unable to tear your eyes away from the sky. “I can’t believe you knew this was going to happen.”

Logan shrugged casually, though his expression softened as he took a step closer. “I don’t know about the stars aligning, but I know how much you love the idea of things being right when they happen. Couldn’t let you miss this.” He reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I wanted you to see this. To know that, no matter what, there’s beauty in this world that’s meant for you.”

You stood there in stunned silence, the weight of his words settling in your chest. You had never imagined a moment like this—not with Logan, not in a city like this. He had this way of surprising you, of pulling something beautiful out of thin air when you least expected it. The man who had been your constant across so many lifetimes, always there, always remembering you when you had no memory of your past lives… and now, here he was, giving you a memory of your own.

You finally looked up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’m so glad I’m here with you.”

Logan’s lips quirked up, the corners of his mouth softening. “You deserve everything, sweetheart,” he said, his hand finding yours again. “Everything and more.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch seep through your skin. The world around you seemed to slow, as though the Northern Lights had wrapped the two of you in a blanket of time. Here, in Paris, standing beneath the Eiffel Tower with Logan beside you, you felt like maybe—just maybe—this life would be different. Maybe this time, there would be no goodbyes.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words feeling lighter than they ever had before.

Logan’s expression softened even more, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I love you, too. More than anything.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his voice low and steady. “You’re my everything, darlin’.”

The stars twinkled above you, and the Northern Lights danced in the sky, but in that moment, all you could see was Logan. His warmth. His presence. His unwavering certainty that you were meant to be together.

---

You scrunched your nose at the sky, the rain falling steadily as it soaked into the streets of Paris. The rhythm of the downpour created a gentle symphony against the canopy above you, and though the evening had been filled with so much warmth, the weather had shifted unexpectedly. But, despite the rain, Logan’s hand remained steady in yours, and the storm outside couldn’t quite dampen the mood between you.

Logan turned toward you, a hint of mischief playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Want to run through the rain, sweetheart?” he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

You blinked, momentarily taken aback. “Run through the rain?”

Logan's smile spread, and he raised an eyebrow at you. “Yeah, sweetheart. What’s the worst that could happen? We get a little wet? Besides, you look great when you’re soaked.” His voice was playful, and there was a lightness to it that made you laugh again.

You glanced at the rain, the droplets now beginning to fall harder, streaking down the cobblestones of the Parisian street. It wasn’t the kind of weather you had imagined, but somehow, with Logan beside you, it felt like the perfect opportunity to break from the ordinary.

You shrugged, a smile creeping onto your face. “I guess if you can handle it, then I can too.” You squeezed his hand, trying to act more confident than you felt. After all, it wasn’t every day that you got to be in Paris, on your honeymoon, with Logan by your side.

Logan’s grin turned into something softer, and his fingers tightened around yours as he pulled you closer. “You sure about that? We can always head back to the hotel,” he said, his voice low, the warmth of it settling around you.

“No way,” you replied quickly, your tone more playful now. “Let’s do it. Just try to keep up.”

Logan chuckled under his breath and nodded, his eyes lighting up with that mischievous spark that had always drawn you in. “Alright, sweetheart. Here we go.”

Before you could take a step, he tugged you gently toward him, and in one swift motion, he was off, pulling you with him. You laughed, the sound mingling with the soft patter of rain against the street, as you ran beside him through the warm summer rain. The water splashed at your feet, your clothes quickly soaking through, but it felt like freedom—like this moment was just for the two of you.

Logan’s laughter echoed in your ears as you both sprinted down the street, the Parisian cityscape around you a blur. You felt lighter than you had in weeks, months, maybe even years. Everything was perfect. For the first time, you didn’t have to worry about the past or what the future might bring. You only had the here and now, and Logan, the one constant in your life.

Eventually, you both slowed to a stop, your breathing heavy but your hearts light. You couldn’t help but smile at Logan, who was grinning, his hair slightly damp and his shirt clinging to his chest in the most endearing way.

“That was... definitely worth it,” you said, breathless, your voice filled with amusement.

Logan caught his breath too and wiped the water from his forehead. “Told you you’d love it,” he replied, his voice softer now. He stepped toward you, his eyes never leaving yours, and before you could say anything else, he cupped your face with one hand, pulling you toward him.

His kiss was slow, tender, a contrast to the spontaneity of your run. The world seemed to stop in that moment, the sounds of the rain, the city, all fading away as you kissed him back, feeling the warmth of his lips against yours. There was something magical about it—about how he always knew how to make you feel special, even in the most unexpected moments.

When you finally pulled back, you both stood there, laughing quietly, your fingers still interlaced. “Okay, now I’m soaked,” you said, your smile never fading.

Logan chuckled, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand. “Doesn’t matter. You look beautiful either way,” he said, his voice gruff but affectionate.

You shook your head, but the smile on your face grew wider. “You’re impossible,” you teased, though the warmth of his words made your heart swell. “But I guess I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk never leaving his lips. “Good. I’ve got a few more surprises up my sleeve, darlin’. Just wait.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again. “I’m starting to wonder if I should be worried.”

Logan pulled you closer again, his hand resting on the small of your back, his thumb gently tracing circles. “Trust me, sweetheart. No need to worry about anything. It’s just you and me. Always.” His words, soft and certain, settled in your chest like a promise.

For a moment, you closed your eyes, letting the sound of the rain and his steady presence wash over you. The night had become everything you’d dreamed of and more. There would be no worries, no regrets—not as long as Logan was by your side.

Finally, Logan broke the silence with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So, what do you say? You wanna keep running through the rain, or should we head back to the hotel and dry off?”

You glanced at him, your heart racing from both the run and the way he made you feel. “I think I’m ready for a change of pace,” you said, your voice soft, almost teasing. “But don’t think I’ll forget this.”

He chuckled again, his hand slipping into yours as he led the way back toward the hotel, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as the two of you walked together, side by side, under the Parisian night sky.

if you want to know what year it is, it is 2005!

(also, again, you can imagine whatever wedding dress you want, but i based it off of this one i found when i was, once again, bored)

[ashblooddragons]

The Red Queen (Chapter 14/?)

Series Masterlist

Kingslanding 

113 ac

Your pov

I try to ignore the wails and screams that fills the halls. The swish of maids dresses as they rush down the halls with bloody rags trying to find clean ones. The whispers of courtiers trying to decide if the babe will be a boy or not. 

I try, but I find even a deaf man would hear the wails that fill the keep. 

All this pain for a babe? I think solemnly looking down at my flat belly. To think that one day a babe would one day grow there is baffling. 

“Her Grace needs more hot water.” I hear a frantic maid say most likely to another maid. 

I remember how happy I was finding out I was gonna be a big sister, now I wish I wasn't if only for her. 

Papa and Ali asked for me to come to his chambers. I try to figure out on the way what it could be about. 

Maybe there's gonna be another wedding? Nyra is betrothed to Laenor. I think just before the doors to Papa’s chambers open. 

“Ah wonderful you're both here!” Papa says when I enter. I notice Nyra sitting next to him scowling towards Ali who only hangs her head and twists her fingers.

“Yes we're both here, now what do you need?” Nyra asks in that tone of hers. She's been speaking this way ever since Ali married Papa. I don't get why she blames Ali, Ali said she couldn't stop it even if she wanted to, and it seemed like she wanted to. 

Papa grimaces at Nyras tone before smiling again. 

“I-no we have wonderful news. The Queen is with child!” Papa exclaims taking Ali's hand in his not even looking at her.

I smile ear to ear when I hear this. “I'm gonna be a big sister?” I ask excitedly as I rush over to Ali touching her belly.

I never got the chance before, Papa said Mama was too sick that it just wouldn't happen for a while. But then she did, but then she passed. 

With that thought I look up at Ali worriedly and she seems to notice my fears as she speaks next. 

“The Maesters say it should be a healthy pregnancy. No complications, at least from what they can tell as of now.” 

I smile wider, staring at her still flat belly trying to figure out if I'm gonna have a sister or brother. But then Nyra scoffs and glares at Ali.

“It's only been three moons since your wedding, and you're already with child? Interested.” She says as if she knows some dark secret and is all too happy about it. 

I'm confused why the time between their marriage and the baby being here is important. I mean we all saw them kiss at the wedding, and many times after. It was only a matter of time those kisses made a baby. 

Before Ali can cry from Nyras cruel words or Papa yell at Nyra I decide to speak. 

“This is great, do we know if it's a boy or a girl?” 

This makes Ali laugh as she looks down at me stroking my wild hair back. I know she knows own. I just went for a fly, I had told her that Srromchaser has been sad lately and I hoped a fly would help.

“We won't know until they are born. But what do you hope for?” 

My immediate thought is that I hope Ali lives and doesn't pass away like Mama. But I know I can't say that, this is a happy moment, no sad thoughts allowed. 

“I want a,” I start stopping to think one last time before responding. “Sister!” I decide with a nod.

She smiles down at me, she finally seems happy again. Like the Ali I knew before Nyra was mad at her and Papa married her. 

“Oh but a son would be helpful, don't you want a brother, Darling?” Papa says with a forced grin.

I try not to frown at his words, Papa always wanted a son I never understood why though. 

But what made me the most upset was how his words took away Alis smile. She was finally happy and he just had to ruin it. 

I'm brought back when the screams finally stop, I feel my heart stop, I can't breathe.

Why is it so quiet? Shouldn't there be a babe crying? Surely if I can hear her screams all the way across the keep I would hear a babes cries? I think frantically as I climb out of bed clutching my Caraxes plush. 

I move to open the door only to find Ser Criston. He doesn't seem to have noticed me having seemingly also been co fused by the sudden quiet. 

“Is she alright, oh please say she's alright Criston.” I beg tears rolling down my cheeks. 

He looks down at me frowning before kneeling and taking my hands in his much larger ones. 

“I don't know, but I am going to find out. Stay here, a guard will be in front of your door. I will be back as soon as I can with news.” Ser Criston says before standing and turning down the hall in search of a maid or maester with news.

I try not to think about how he didn't say good news, only news. I know there is a chance she could die, but I prayed, I prayed so much she wouldn't. I prayed to the Seven like she taught me, to the old gods, I even tried to pray to the Valyrian ones like Kepus taught me. So surely one of them heard me and will follow my prayers. 

I turn back into my chambers wiping my tears walking towards Orchid. She quickly sits me in her lap showing me the new hat she made for her son Noah. 

“I was thinking of putting little stars along the hem, and for his sister Clover well she will have flowers. She says trying to distract me from the cruel wait to know if all is well. 

I nod my head as I move Caraxes wings up and down pretending he is actually in the skins and not just a plush in my arms. 

Kepus wouldn't make me wait this long, he'd let me know right away. I think eyeing the door for any moment when finally after what feeling like moons a knock comes to the door.

“The Queen awaits you, Your Grace.” I hear Criston say through the door. 

Orchid quickly sets me on my feet and slips my wool slippers on as well as my silk shawl ‘to keep the cold away’ she says. Before running to the door with Caraxes still clutched in my arms.

“Is she alright? Is the babe? Oh please tell me they are alright!” I plead as he takes my hand in his guiding me towards the Queen's chambers. 

He smiles down at me before nodding and I feel all the worry leave my body. I fight the tears of relief that they are alright, that they are still breathing, that they hadn't passed like Mother and Baelon did. 

I can't help but notice all the courtiers who stand outside the Queen's chambers. I hear them whisper about how if it's a boy it would be the heir. 

If it's a boy it would be heir? I wouldn't feel all this stress anymore? I wouldn't have all of court watching me? I think excitedly before remembering that if it is a boy it will feel all this stress, fear, and crushing weight on him.

No please don't let it be a boy, I don't want anyone to feel this, let alone a innocent babe. I pray to any gods that will hear me.

Ser Ceiston pushes them all out of our way until we yet to the doors. 

“The Queen and King are excited to see you.” He says before opening the door and letting me in.

I step in taking in the sight of Papa talking to maester about something, and of Ali holding a bundle of blankets in her arms. I watch with bated breaths as she lifts her head to look at me. Her smile lights the room from its pure joy. 

“Come here.” She says waving me over. 

I waste no time running over to her tears of relief finally rolling down my cheeks. I climb into the bed sluggling into her side crying into her chest.

“What's wrong, Sweetheart?” She asks stroking my hair back so she can wipe my tears as they fall.

“I thought something bad happened, that you would be like-like.” I can't even finish the sentence but thankfully she seems to understand as she hums before responding.

“Me and your brother are perfectly fine.” She says and I can't help but look up at her wide eyed.

“I have a baby brother?” I ask looking down at the black and gold blanket again. 

“Yes, his name is Aegon.” 

I smile big as I move the blanket to the side to see his chubby cheeks and silver gold wisps. 

“Like the conquer. I love it.” I say stroking his cheek. 

His skin feels so soft, so fragile, like the finest silk. His cheeks are red and he seems to be asleep as his eyes are closed and he has yet to open them. 

“I'm glad you like them, now I have two wonderful children. You and Aegon.” She says and I freeze turning to look up at her. 

I see the joy bit also the fear in her eyes. But I don't know why she is afraid, I would be over joyed to be her child as well.

“Well we are lucky to have such a good Mama.” I respond and I see her wipe at her eyes fighting tears. At first I think she is sad but then she smiles and kisses my brow and I know they are happy tears. 

“Can I hold him?” I ask to which she nods telling me to sit with my back against the head board and hold my arms out in front of me. 

When Aegon is set into my arms I'm shocked how heavy he is. He's so tiny surely he isn't that heavy? I think looking down at him once he is in my lap. 

“He's so cute.” I whisper excitedly to Ali.

“He truly is.” She says shifting her position only to whince in pain. 

I frown going to ask if she is alright when she kisses my cheek and looks down at Aegon again.

“He looks just like you. Just with Papa’s hair, and I don't know what his eyes look like.” I whisper to her.

“You think so? All of the men say he looks like the King. And I hadn't gotten a close look at his eyes, but I do know they are purple.” She says stroking Aegons nose making him scrunch it up in annoyance making us both giggle.

It always strikes me as odd how she always refers to Papa as ‘the King', they are married and yet they only call each other by their titles. King, Queen, Wife, Husband, anything but their names or a sweet nickname. But instead of bringing it up I shrug it off like always looking down at my little brother again.

“I'm your big sister, I'll always protect you. Even when your big and strong, I'm gonna protect you from the bad people here. I'll guide you, teach you Valyrian, I even have toys you can pick from. Just not my Caraxes and Stormchaser plushes. Oh and not my dolly either, she looks just like me, even had my eyes.” I whisper down to him excitedly.

In my excitement I miss how Nyra walks in only to storm out once she hears its a son. But what I wish I didn't miss was how Papa stares at Aegon with disdain, and how the Hand looks at him like a tool. But Ali does, and because of this she holds me and Aegon closer silently swearing to the gods to always protect us even if it meant her demise.

Special thanks to my bestie @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I swear I'd be lost without you girly!

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @classicsimpforaaronwarner @sachaa-ff @mmogurl @athzhowakar @themoonlitquill @thelastemzy @fallenxjas

[greenerteacups]

I can't help but giggle how Ron and Harry in LH both doubt Draco's feelings for Hermione when it's, like, the complete OPPOSITE of what they think. Harry's being all big brother-y like about Hermione and how Draco should treat her right and respectfully or ELSE whilst Ron in the latest chapter assumes he's playing around with the poor girl.

And in reality I'm pretty sure Draco is envisioning his and Hermione's wizardesque wedding for the past 2 books.

Can't help but love the boys' obliviousness in regards to feelings here.

Also goes to show how Draco truly opens up only to Hermione in the most profound-est way. I love them.

Oh, yeah. I think I wrote this in a reply to a comment on AO3, but Ron and Harry are very good people afflicted with Teenage BoyBrain, and in Harry's case, Brother Instinct wherever Hermione is concerned. So they assumed that if Draco and Hermione like each other but aren't together, it's because Draco's not being an upstanding young gentleman, not because (as is the case) Hermione's indulging in a bit of age-appropriate emotional terrorism.

There are also broad gaps between (1) what Draco reveals via narration, (2) what he reveals to Hermione, and (3) what he reveals to Harry and Ron. They know each other very well, but Draco plays his cards so close to the chest — especially when it comes to the whole "if you're important to me it means I'd firebomb a hospital for you" thing. He has this unspoken idea that the moment he admits he cares for someone, they're immediately going to get snatched away by the long hand of the universe, which in fairness to him is informed by certain events that make him not totally wrong. (You might also attribute this to his taste in people, however, which trends towards the reckless and the driven; cue moth/flame metaphor, etc., etc., you all know.) So that's why there's about a half-year lag between whatever Draco recognizes in his own emotions and what everyone else in the story seems to believe: that's about how long it takes Draco to get comfortable broadcasting his feelings.

By the middle of fifth year, both Harry and Ron are full aware (as the chapters reveal!) that Draco cares for Hermione, but I think both boys project themselves onto him, to the detriment of their understanding (as most teenagers do). Ron reads a little more into Draco's possessiveness and jealousy, which are the traits they have most in common (cf. Ch.73). Part of that judgment is Ron's emotional straightforwardness: he sincerely can't imagine any reason that Draco wouldn't be dating her properly if the feeling was reciprocated, so he assumes that there must be some obstacle somewhere, and because he's a bit in love with Hermione in his own right, he obviously assumes the obstacle is Draco. What's Draco's number one problem? He's got a bucket of daddy issues and hangups over his family legacy, especially vis-a-vis public displays of affiliation. And Ron doesn't maybe think Draco's being actually prejudiced here (otherwise, he would have been much, much harsher with him in their argument) but he does think there's a degree of shame or uncertainty on Draco's part that's in the way of them getting together.

Harry, meanwhile, reads the whole situation as a communication failure: he thinks Draco doesn't realize what he's doing, because if it were Harry, messing someone around sincerely would be a cognition failure. It's not outside Harry's frame of possibility that Draco could end up in a romantically charged situationship by accident. And he probably rates higher the possibility that Draco would deliberately maintain a relationship like that to avoid losing Hermione's attention. Notably, Harry doesn't assume that Hermione's particularly hard-done-by in this situation; in fact, his default assumption is that she's where she wants to be, and if she didn't like it, she wouldn't be there. His trust in her is helped by the fact that he regards her as a pseudo-sister, and doesn't have any stake in the love triangle except that everyone treats each other well. For that reason, his final comment on the matter is a plea for Draco to consider how Ron might feel: he wants to remind them that they're friends, because he watched the group fall apart last year over an argument similar to this one (jealousy, possessiveness, and a torturous litigation of in-group favoritism). Harry is provoked to intercede because he thinks there's a danger of the situation blowing up due to miscommunication and leaving all of them isolated when they need support the most — which is naturally something that the increasingly isolated and angst-ridden Harry thinks should be top priority.

Anyway, I love them, too.

[candiiee]

ᴅᴇᴋᴜᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ-ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ: ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ

summary: izuku and you go undercover on a date

warnings: annoying fan girls, swearing

an: n/a

Being a pro hero was stressful. Izuku loved the job, he really did, but was it so wrong to want a date with his beloved s/o and not get mobbed by a bunch of giggling fangirls?

So today, he and you had decided to wear disguises, and head to a restaurant for a date.

He was wearing a simple hoodie, the hood up and a hat to cover his messy curls, with sunglasses so no one would see his big doe eyes. Which was a shame really.

You wore something simple, the clothes a dull colour, so you weren’t obvious.

He kept his head down, trying to appear shorter, which was kind of funny, considering he was tall.

You pulled him along, snickering at how shy he was acting, eyes darting around, as if he was gonna get jumped soon.

You entered the small cafe, and you usher him to sit down, and went to order.

You come back, and find your boyfriend surrounded by a small group of teenagers.

Oh boy.

They looked like a bunch of predatory sharks, as they surrounded Izuku, who looked at you for help.

You were about to intervene, when you noticed how one of them was trying to make her chest look bigger, pushing it forward, getting too close for your liking.

Excuse me?? Izuku was a grown man. This was a teenager. You knew well how much people showed their blatant lust for him. He was a handsome young man, and you’d made it your mission to make sure he never saw nor knew the existence of the fics of him in all the major online writing websites. (Of course, you’d read some of them. You couldn’t help yourself, Izuku was a bean so why not just causally flex that he was yours?)

Sure, izuku wasn’t that innocent. He knew how to fuck. (And he did it well) But he didn’t need to know about the fanart, the pornography that was drawn about him. Some of it was so explicit it would bring your mom back from the dead and make her die again in disgust.

You stopped the train of thought. These were teenagers. And quite frankly, the teenager probably just wanted to be noticed. Izuku was attractive.

You managed a stiff smile, moving between them and subtly pushing the girl back.

She looked at you in irritation, which then turned into embarrassment. You smiled, “well hi there. I see you’re a bit too close to my husband.”

Izuku went red, husband? He was pretty sure he never proposed. Or did he and he forgot? Or did you propose and he forgot the wedding?

You pretend not to notice Izuku’s inner turmoil.

The teens excuse themselves, immediately leaving.

“Poor Izuku.” You coo, reaching over and pinching his cheek. “The fans can’t leave him alone.”

“Husband?” He squeaks out.

Oh boy.

[gul4bjamoons]

✩ wedding plans; 

         jamal musiala ft. michael olise ────── 

   planning for michael’s wedding makes jamal wonder about his own.

⭑  word count : one thousand six hundred twenty.

⭑  notes : i wanted to write fluff, but hopefully its not too overbearing

˙⋆✮ masterlist.

The crisp spring breeze carried the promise of summer as Jamal pulled you closer, his hand snugly clasping yours. The two of you had just arrived at Michael Olise’s favorite café, a modest spot tucked into a quiet corner of Munich. Michael and his fiancé were already there, seated at a small table adorned with wedding planning binders, color swatches, and an open laptop. The scene was so unlike the Michael Olise you’d come to know that you couldn’t help but stifle a giggle.

Michael was usually the embodiment of cool indifference—a player so composed on and off the pitch that it bordered on comedic. Nothing fazed him. He always had a deadpan response for every situation, even when Jamal would crack the kind of jokes that had everyone else doubled over.

But today?

Today, he looked like he was plotting the heist of the century as he discussed floral arrangements with his fiancé, an absolutely lovely woman who was as detail-oriented as Michael was laid-back.

“About time Jamal.” Michael stated to the two of you as Jamal helped pull out your chair. 

“You told us to meet you at noon; the clock hasn’t even hit twelve yet.” Jamal pointed out, grinning as he leaned back in his chair, his arm draping instinctively over the back of yours.

Michael’s fiancé, Imani, laughed, her eyes sparkling as she reached over to pat his hand. “He’s just stressed. Don’t mind him.”

“Stressed?” Jamal asked with raised eyebrows, glancing at you like you were both witnessing a rare phenomenon. “Michael doesn’t get stressed.”

“He does now,” you teased, shooting Michael a smirk. “Apparently, weddings are his kryptonite.”

Michael rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, which was a win in itself. You’d learned over the years that Jamal and Michael’s friendship was built on this kind of easy ribbing.

They were polar opposites in many ways—Jamal was warm and expressive, while Michael was cool and reserved—but their bond was undeniable. And as Jamal’s girlfriend, you’d been lucky enough to be pulled into their tight-knit circle.

Imani laughed softly. “Honestly, he’s been amazing. You should’ve seen him at the cake tasting. He took notes.”

“Notes?” Jamal said, feigning shock. “Olise took notes?”

Michael shot him a glare that was more amused than annoyed. “Do you two want to help, or are you just here to annoy me?”

“Bit of both,” you said cheekily, and even Michael had to laugh at that.

The next hour was spent flipping through endless photographs of flower arrangements and venue setups. Jamal kept leaning over to whisper funny comments in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. You tried to keep a straight face, but when he pointed out that Michael’s intense focus on table linens looked like he was deciding on where to aim a penalty kick, you lost it.

“Okay, okay,” Michael said, pretending to be exasperated as Jamal tried to keep a straight face.

“Laugh it up. But wait until it’s your turn. I’m going to make you suffer through cake tastings and centerpiece debates.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Jamal replied, winking at you.

The wedding planning wasn’t just confined to these casual afternoons, though. In the weeks leading up to the big day, you found yourself spending more time with Imani than you ever thought possible. The two of you had bonded over dress fittings, invitation designs, and brainstorming ways to keep this information away from the public.

She was sharp-witted and kind, with a calm presence that seemed to balance out Michael’s newfound stress. It was clear to everyone who saw them together how much Michael adored her.

“Have you ever seen him like this?” you asked Jamal one evening as you lounged on the couch in his apartment. The two of you were scrolling through pictures of potential bridesmaid dresses.

“Never,” Jamal said, shaking his head with a smile. “It’s hilarious. Michael’s the guy who barely flinches when Davies tackles him at full speed, but when we went to the jewelers he’s suddenly sweating.”

You laughed, leaning into Jamal’s side as he slipped an arm around your shoulders. “It’s sweet, though. You can tell how much he loves her.”

Jamal kissed the top of your head. “Yeah, he got lucky. Kind of like I did.”

It was moments like these that made your relationship with Jamal feel so special. Even amidst all the chaos of wedding prep, he always found ways to remind you how much he cared.

-

The week of the wedding, the Bayern Munich squad got involved in the preparation. Alphonso Davies, Harry Kane, and a few of the other players insisted on throwing Michael a dinner celebration. The night was full of jokes and friendly teasing.

“So, Michael,” Alphonso said as they all lounged in a private booth at a trendy Munich bar. “What’s it like being whipped?”

Michael gave him a withering look as Imani blushed. “Do you ever get tired of talking?”

Harry Kane laughed, shaking his head. “He’s been whipped for years. He just hid it well.”

Jamal, who was sitting next to you, smirked. “It’s true. Remember when he bailed during our FIFA match to go watch a movie with her?”

“That was one time,” Michael muttered, but the tips of his ears were pink.

You and Jamal exchanged amused glances. It was rare to see Michael this flustered, and you had to admit, it was fun to watch. But, of course, the teasing eventually turned on you and Jamal.

“So, when are we getting invites to your wedding?” Alphonso asked, grinning mischievously.

Jamal choked on his drink, and you felt your face heat up. “Um—”.

“Oh, come on,” Harry said, clearly enjoying this. “You’ve been together for years. What’s the hold-up?”

Jamal shot him a glare, but there was no real malice in it. “How about we focus on Michael’s wedding first?”

-

The wedding was everything Michael and Imani had envisioned: elegant, romantic, and full of personal touches that perfectly captured their relationship. As the ceremony unfolded, you couldn’t help but squeeze Jamal’s hand tighter. The cool breeze from the vineyard mixed with the soft murmur of the guests, and for a moment, it felt like time had stopped.

You, ever the observant one, seemed to notice all the small details—Michael’s hand shaking as he held Imani’s, the way Imani beamed as she walked down the aisle, and how Michael’s eyes softened when their hands met. Jamal’s thumb gently brushed over your knuckles as you both watched the couple exchange their vows.

“You good?” he asked in a quiet tone, his breath warm against your ear.

You nodded, blinking back a tear. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… a little overwhelmed, I guess.”

Jamal’s smile softened, and he leaned in closer, his forehead lightly touching yours. “I get that. It’s a lot of love in the air.”

“You’re not wrong,” you whispered back, feeling your heart flutter. “It’s just so… real.”

Jamal squeezed your hand tighter, his voice a little lower now. “I know what you mean. But hey, I’m glad we’re here. Together.”

You turned your head slightly, catching his eye. “Always,” you said, the words feeling like a promise as much as a response.

The ceremony continued, but you could feel Jamal’s attention lingering on you. As the vows were exchanged, he kept glancing at you with that signature, soft smile of his—the one that made your heart skip a beat. You both watched Michael, a man who had always been so composed, lose his cool for the first time in a long while. His eyes glistened as he looked at Imani, and that made Jamal chuckle beside you.

“You think he’s gonna lose it when they kiss?” Jamal murmured, his lips near your ear again.

You let out a quiet laugh. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

When they did share that first kiss as husband and wife, Michael wiped his eyes quickly, and you caught Jamal’s eye, both of you trying to suppress your laughter.

“Okay, I admit it,” Jamal said in a mock-serious tone, “that was a really sweet moment.”

“Really sweet,” you agreed, your voice teasing but with a fond undertone.

Once the ceremony ended and the reception kicked off, the playful atmosphere returned. You and Jamal found yourselves twirling on the dance floor, his hands secure on your waist as he moved you in a slow circle.

He leaned down close, his lips brushing your ear. “How’s this? The song’s not overly romantic, is it?”

You chuckled, feeling his warmth radiating against you. “It’s way too cheesy.” you said softly, your fingers brushing the back of his neck. 

Jamal smirked, twirling you with a little flourish, making you laugh. “Oh? So, why are you still here then? Am I just that good of a dancer?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You wish.”

His smile widened as he pulled you back into a close hold. “Well I must be decent enough to keep you around, huh?”

You pressed your cheek against his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and calm beneath your ear. “You’ve definitely got me. For good.”

Jamal’s voice dropped low again, the teasing tone from earlier gone. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it. I don’t want to, either.”

You lifted your head to meet his gaze, the sincerity in his eyes making your chest tighten. “Me neither.”

As the night went on, the fun continued—jokes from the other boys, Michael rolling his eyes at Jamal’s speech, and plenty of cake. But through it all, Jamal never let you out of his arms. He was constantly pulling you closer, stealing small kisses, and murmuring little sweet things that made your heart feel full.

© gul4bjamoons 

[insanefemme]

It really hurts when someone you've always supported and been happy for can never do the same for you and is spiteful and jealous and can't celebrate your wins

[im14andivebeen14foramonth]

ooo i am trying so very hard not to cry right now

[non-un-topo]

Talking to my sister can be one of the most aggravating experiences

[senseiwu]

Just saw a video where someone mentioned reading the curious incident of the dog in the night time, and they thought afterwards they may have autism too. When they brought it up to their mum, she was like "you knew??" cause apparently she'd done that thing people seem to do where they keep an autism diagnosis secret from their kids

It made me remember when my grandma gave me that book to read when we were all at her place for Christmas. She said something like "I think you'll really like it", which confused me cause I was more into fantasy stuff than mystery novels. I mean. I did really like it. But it's one of the things that makes me wonder... did my parents do that thing too...?