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leahwllmsn · 3 days ago

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tell me I'm the number one girl in your eyes

alexia putellas x reader

word count: 2.5k

You thought that Alexia was the only person in the world who could never hurt you.

You thought about a lot of things. About how Alexia was going to be the one to propose. How your wedding was going to be an intimate one in your and Alexia’s hometown, by the vineyard. How you would have a maximum of two children, no doubt one of which was going to follow in Alexia’s footsteps.

Your life with Alexia was set. It was predictable, really. From the moment you met her back in Mollet del Vallès when you were children, to your first kiss in her backyard, to the day you moved to the city together.

Childhood best friends who fell in love along the way—it couldn’t get anymore perfect than that. Your families were neighbours, it was practically one big family. Everyone was looking forward to your wedding, and by everyone that included you too.

You had been dating for fifteen years (well, you were on and off at some point, but that didn’t count), so it wasn’t far-fetched that you were expecting a proposal soon. You and Alexia talked about getting married, it wasn’t a new subject for the two of you.

The only problem was that the proposal wasn’t coming and for the first time ever, you had a feeling that it wasn’t going to come. Ever.

You couldn’t pinpoint when Alexia changed, when Alexia stopped buying you flowers just because and when the conversations between you felt forced. Maybe it was after Alexia went back defeated from the Olympics. Or maybe it was after Barcelona won the Champions League and Alexia was everywhere but your home.

The distance between you grew and grew until you were left to beg for Alexia’s attention as if you were another fan and not her girlfriend, the person Alexia claimed she loved more than anything.

“I have meetings with investors tonight, for Eleven.” Alexia’s voice broke the silence in your apartment. “Might go on until late.”

“Okay,” was all you could say.

Another excuse, you figured. Another reason to avoid coming home to you. It had been going on for some time. You couldn’t remember the last time you went to bed at the same time anymore.

Alexia’s figure appeared in the kitchen, she went straight to the fridge and took out her box of orange juice. Gone were the arms around your waist, the gentle kisses to your neck as you read the morning news. Her laughter would ring around the space as she claimed “only old people read newspapers these days, amor!”

“Are we still on for tomorrow though?” You hated that your voice was hopeful. Too hopeful.

Alexia finally looked at you, her brows furrowed. You weren’t surprised anymore that she’d forgotten. It was laughable at this point because it seemed that you were the only one still present in this relationship.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Dinner.” You tried to act nonchalant about it, as if it didn’t hurt that your own girlfriend forgot about your birthday.

Alexia stared at you for a few seconds, then nodded. “Of course. You know I finish training at four. Dinner is at seven, right?”

“Six.” And I thought you have a day off tomorrow, you wanted to argue. But you kept your mouth shut and let it go.

Alexia finished her orange juice and grabbed her bag, stepping close to you to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “Don’t wait up.”

And just like that she was gone.

“I love you too.” You whispered to the empty apartment. It felt humiliating at times, to be the only one left in a relationship.

You wondered if Alexia still loved you. You couldn’t remember the last time she said those three words to you. You had a feeling that she stopped, that must be why she never said it anymore.

You wanted to confront her about it, to ask her why you weren’t worth her time anymore, but you didn’t think you were ready to face the fallout. You would be devastated when Alexia decided it was time to leave you. It wasn’t an if, but a when, because you knew it was inevitable. It could be tomorrow, or in a few weeks or even months.

Selfishly, you wanted to keep Alexia to yourself a little bit longer. Even though Alexia didn’t feel like yours anymore.

You could pretend that you didn’t die every time Alexia’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. You could pretend that it was fine that Alexia never held your hand as you walked through the streets of Barcelona anymore.

You could pretend that Alexia still loved you, and that you were still the greatest thing the universe had ever given her—her words, a few years ago.

Tomorrow, you knew Alexia would go through her day as if it was just another regular day. If you were lucky, she’d remember that it was your birthday. If you were extra lucky, she’d even give you flowers.

Above everything though, you just hoped that she would show up to dinner.

You didn’t think you had any fight left in you if she didn’t.

—

The sun was shining against your face the moment you opened your eyes. Out of habit, your hands reached out to the other side. You couldn’t help the disappointed sigh that left your lips when you were met with empty sheets. You relished in the mornings when Alexia wasn’t awake and you could hold her, even though you had to pretend to be asleep as she gently lifted your hand and slipped out of bed when she woke. You missed when she would turn around and peppered your face with kisses to wake you up. She loved being the first thing you see in the morning.

Usually on your birthday, Alexia would treat you to breakfast in bed. It was tradition, one that she started ever since the two of you moved to Barcelona about a decade ago.

For a brief second, you had a dangerous glimmer of hope that Alexia was just in the kitchen. But with how quiet your apartment felt, you knew she left.

Alexia forgot. Or maybe she remembered, but she didn’t care anymore. You didn’t know which one was worse.

With a sigh and an ache so deep in your chest, you got ready for the day. You went through your usual routine: shower, breakfast, tidying any mess around your apartment that was out of place.

It wasn’t until an hour later that the doorbell rang. A part of you hoped that it was Alexia, but the thought disappeared as fast. Your girlfriend wouldn’t need to knock on her own door.

It was a delivery man. Surprisingly, with flowers in his arms. Your heart leaped to the faint hope that they were from Alexia.

“Y/N?”

“That’s me.”

“Must be a special day,” he gave a kind smile, handing the flowers over to you. “Delivery for you from… Alba.”

The tinge of disappointment couldn’t help but creep into your chest. Still, you gave him the best smile you could muster and thanked him.

Alba remembered your birthday. Scrolling through your phone, you saw more people who remembered it was your birthday, even people you weren’t that close with.

It was radio silence from the person who mattered the most to you though.

Sitting alone on your sofa, you realized that you had nothing to do. You cleared your schedule out, and Alexia would usually take the lead. It was tradition to spend your birthdays just the two of you.

You dragged yourself to Mercadona, wanting to buy yourself a small cake and some candles. Before blowing the candles out, you wished for the impossible; birthday wishes were supposed to be powerful, weren’t they?

I wish things go back to the way they were before

Most importantly… I wish my girlfriend still wants me

—

You arrived at your favorite restaurant at exactly six o’clock. You ordered a bottle of wine and finished two glasses when thirty minutes had passed and your girlfriend was still nowhere to be seen.

The need to cry was overwhelming, you felt the tears pooling in your eyes already, waiting for the right time to fall. But you swallowed the ache and forced yourself to think of something happy, because crying whilst being alone at a table clearly meant for two was pathetic.

Your texts and calls went unanswered. An hour in and your last resort was to call Mapi and ask her if she’d seen or heard from Alexia.

“¡Hola, cumpleañera!”

“Maps, hey,” you tried to keep your voice steady, but they were futile. You were truly going to sound pathetic with your question. “Have you… Is Ale with you?”

“Qué? Alexia? Is she not with you?” Mapi sounded concerned. She sounded like she was ready to fight her best friend for you. The fact brought a slight smile to your face.

“No,” you took a deep breath. You couldn’t believe this was how your relationship had come to be. “She’s supposed to be here an hour ago.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, chica. She left a few hours ago, I don’t know where she went.”

“That’s okay.” You stared at your empty glass and contemplated on whether you should pour yourself another. You’d finish the whole bottle by yourself at this rate.

“Do you… do you want me and Ingrid to come over?”

The offer was sweet, your heart swell at the reinforcement that there were still people who cared about you. But you didn’t think you could go through conversations without breaking down.

So you politely declined Mapi’s offer and poured yourself another glass of wine. You were finishing this bottle, you decided.

It was a strange feeling. To feel abandoned. Alexia had never made you feel that way before.

Alexia was your safe space. She made you feel loved and made you feel that you mattered.

That Alexia felt like a lifetime ago, like she belonged to another, better version of you—one worthy of her time and effort.

—

The apartment was dark when you got home, but you knew Alexia was here. Her car keys were on the hook, and the shoes she wore earlier were haphazardly placed by the front door.

“Ale?” You let out a wince as you took off your heels, you could feel a blister coming.

As you entered your living room, you found your girlfriend still in her Barcelona sweatshirt passed out on the couch. She looked so at peace that you couldn’t help but pressed a kiss to her forehead.

As much as you hated how she’d been treating you, a part of you still had so much love for her. You knew you deserved better than this version of Alexia, but you didn’t think you had it in you to let her go.

Alexia stirred, not even a guilty look when she opened her eyes and saw you standing there. “Hey, what time is it?”

“Late,” you muttered, walking back to your bedroom. You heard faint footsteps behind you, telling you Alexia was following you. You knew she was watching you, you in your fitted black dress that stopped just above your thigh. It was Alexia’s favourite dress on you, hence why you decided to wear it tonight.

“I… fell asleep,” Alexia’s voice broke the silence. She must’ve realized her mistake then. A part of you broke when she said nothing else, not even an apology.

“That’s fine,” you shrugged. You stripped off your dress and changed into a t-shirt. When you realized it was an old, faded one which belonged to Alexia, you angrily took it off and tossed it aside. This was supposed to be your side of the closet, but over the years, your clothes and Alexia’s have blended together.

“Amor…”

You couldn’t remember the last time Alexia called you that. It used to bring you warmth, but now it only made you feel mocked.

“What, Alexia?” You turned around and the sight of her finally in front of you, of her finally looking at you, made you snap. “It’s not like I waited hours for you, looking like a complete idiota as the waiter kept on checking if I was okay.”

“I didn’t—”

You put a hand up, signaling your girlfriend to stop talking. “Save it, Alexia. You know, I wasn’t even surprised that you didn’t show up. But I thought that your girlfriend’s birthday must count as a special occasion, right? I guess I really do mean nothing to you.”

“Your birthday?” Alexia’s eyes went impossibly wide.

You laughed, that evil laughter you hear from villains in movies. There wasn’t anything funny. You just felt so pathetic to the point that there wasn’t anything else you could do but laugh at the situation.

Alexia looked like she was close to tears, but you forced yourself to not feel bad for her. She made you feel so much worse these past few weeks.

“I don’t know what I did wrong, Alexia,” you sighed. You knew you were going to lose her after this. There wasn’t going back. “I’ve done nothing but love you unconditionally, but even that seems like it’s not enough for you anymore. It used to be though, so tell me, Alexia, what changed? What did I do to make you stop loving me? We used to be so good.”

The tears were flowing freely down your face. You looked terrible. Your heart was in pieces. It wasn’t a birthday you wanted to remember.

“Ale… If you don’t want me around anymore, the least you could do is tell me. Tell me so I don’t have to wait for you to notice me again. Tell me so I can pack up my bags and leave you alone.”

“It’s not like that,” Alexia finally spoke up, her voice barely a whisper.

“Then what? I feel like I don’t matter to you anymore. You’ve done a great job of showing me that. Forgetting that it’s my birthday is the cherry on top.”

Alexia was crying too, but you didn’t know why she was crying. Guilt, maybe? But this had been going on for some time, why feel guilty now?

“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” you decided, having to force the words out of your mouth. “I know you don’t want to be the one to end things, so I’ll do you a favour.”

This wasn’t what you wanted. You wanted Alexia to fight for you, to prove you wrong. You wanted Alexia to tell you that she was sorry and that she didn’t realize she had been neglecting you. You wanted Alexia to pull you into her arms and not let go. You wanted her to convince you that you were still the love of her life and that she still loved you more than anything.

But Alexia said nothing else and that was all you needed to know.

#repost because it wasn't showing up in the tags?#woso x reader #woso fanfics #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #woso community #woso

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obsessivevoidkitten · 3 days ago

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The Omega Knight

Male Alpha Dragon-Hybrid x Male Omega Reader CW: Noncon, stalking, reader fucked into the mud, reader fucked so hard he pisses himself, overstimulation, emotional manipulation, stockholm syndrome, omegaverse, a/b/o dynamics, mating cycles/heat, two-dicked dragon-man, double penetration, knotting, biting, claiming bites, combat, medieval dystopia with shitty gender roles, praise kink Word Count: 4.9k (This is a comm for somone wishing to remain anonymous. I hope everyone enjoys it. I made it much longer than it was supposed to be.)

In a time defined by the prominence of magic, the might of kings, the power of knights, and discriminatory sex and gender views, it was extremely difficult to be an omega. They were commonly looked upon as sex objects, incubators, and the property of whoever they ended up forced to marry. Male omegas, given their rarity, were treated as particularly fragile trophies.

You were one such male omega. Not wanting their only son to be looked down upon as someone’s property or prize, your parents raised you as an alpha. They were not the highest house of nobles, but they were still very wealthy. They used their connections and power to get you the very best magically enhanced suppressants and fake alpha scent.

With a combination of careful planning, staying as far from others as you could, and suppressants you manage to become one of the knights of the realm. Despite your smaller stature, everyone thought you were an alpha given your fake scent, dedication, and skill. It took a lot of effort to push your omega body so hard, but you persevered, not willing to besmirch the honor of your house through failure. Your father helped train you, and you paid for your station with sweat and bruises.

Once you became a knight you were one of the very few who worked alone. Knights were responsible for defending the country from the more dangerous bandits and the ever present threat of highly dangerous monstrosities. As such they typically worked in groups and went on missions that could take days to weeks. But you couldn’t risk getting caught applying suppressants and fake scent while out on the road. This required you to be better trained and more skilled than anyone else could hope to be.

The result was that you were quick and lethal on every single mission, quickly racking up kills. You started out by being sent to take down bandits, as every new knight is. But that isn’t what you stayed doing for very long.

You quickly graduated to the occasional ghoul or wandering undead, though these were little more than slow moving beasts. Honestly, rarely as dangerous as a bandit.

From there you went on to put tougher foes in the ground. Chimeras, gargoyles, and the like. They were still feral but they were much more cunning and moved without the stiffness that plagued the undead.

Finally you were regularly slaying werewolves and vampires. Considered to be the deadliest of foes. The king himself had assigned you some of your tasks and awarded you medals for your courage and skill. You became renowned across the land, your name muttered far and wide for your impressive service. Though, as always, you never lingered after receiving praise or rewards. To be discovered at this point would mean enduring certain… consequences…

One day you were summoned to meet the king privately. As you passed the guards and presented your summons you weren’t nervous at all, you assumed that there was a threat to the kingdom that only you could be trusted to resolve. Probably one that was a bit too discreet to share via messenger. Something that could cause embarrassment or panic.

Your assumption was dead wrong.

When you reached the king on his throne you saw he was accompanied by one of the princes, the one who was around your age and also an omega. Prince Orleias stared at you eagerly. It was rather unnerving, though not something that was entirely foreign to you. There were many omegas that looked at you like that.

“Ah, there you are, prompt as always.”

You gave a smile and curt nod at his praise.

“Of course your grace, I would never keep you waiting.”

“I have something very important to discuss with you. You are a well decorated knight of this land and have saved hundreds of lives, if not more. You are also high born and the heir to your house name.”

He paused and looked at you and then back to his son for a moment.

“I am giving you my son’s hand in marriage. He wholeheartedly agrees.”

At this Prince Orleias crept towards you and clung to your arm, looking at you with unfettered admiration. Uh-oh.

You didn’t know what to do, if you declined it would surely enrage the king and possibly bring his ire down upon your entire family. He was not known to be an angry man, but he took note of traditions and honor as most in this society did. He wouldn’t behead you, but it would be highly offensive.

On the other hand, if you accepted, then your secret would be found out. And that deception would be received very poorly indeed.

Luckily, as if the very gods were interjecting on your behalf, a messenger came scurrying into the room to interrupt.

“Sire! Sire!”

“What’s the meaning of this intrusion!? I am discussing a very important personal matter with our top warrior here!”

“Yes sire! I beg your apologies! But we have reports of a dragon terrorizing the small town of Umbrafell!”

Your head was immediately filled with images of villages fleeing in terror as a flying beast rained down fire and fury down from above. You had to help, no one else had as good of a chance to defeat such a creature! This was also your opening to remove yourself from accepting the proposal… or at the very least buy yourself some time to think of a more permanent solution… You extricated yourself out of the clingy grip of the amorous prince.

“My king! I will go at once! It is one of the mightiest beasts in all of the world and I have the best chance to defeat it!”

You quickly dashed from the room and out of the castle and made your way home to don your armor and set out on your newly acquired quest before the king could object, not that he would have. You were obviously the best choice for the job.

Once you had your weapon, armor, and pack of supplies you set out at once on one of the knight’s horses. As grateful as you were from the reprieve that the situation had afforded you, it was still a very serious situation with the lives of many potentially in danger. You had never even fought a dragon before and it was not a fight to be taken lightly. You couldn’t even recall if any living knight had ever encountered one.

The best plan was to talk to the locals once you got to the town and ask them what exactly they had seen of the beat, find out its size, age, speed, and elemental attributes. It was probably a fire dragon, that was the most common from the old tales and songs.

The town of Umbrafell was on the southern outskirts of the kingdom. It would be a journey of a few days to get there.

You continued on at a steady pace that wasn’t too demanding of the horse but still gave you good progress on your journey. You had to stop and camp a couple nights, and stop when necessary to eat and allow your mount to rest and get hydrated, but the weather was pleasant and you made remarkable time. You arrived in Umbrafell late in the morning on the third day of your quest.

The questioning of several of the locals had you believing that the dragon was a giant beast that descended upon the villagers and their livestock, devastating entire flocks and burning to cinders entire fields. Definitely an adult dragon of fire.

The question was how would you fell such a creature? Charging in blindly was not an option. You decided drugging would be the best option. But you didn’t even know if dragons were susceptible to such things. And even if they were it probably would be far too clever to take any form of drugged bait. No, the course of action most likely to end without your smoldering corpse was to find the lair, stake it out, and wait for it to sleep before attacking.

The locals pointed you in the direction the dragon came from. A thick forested area with many hills and slopes. Not the best area to take a horse. You left your mount at the local livery stable, you paid well and knew the knightly steed would be well looked after.

You trekked through the forest for several hours, there was no telling exactly where the dragon had set up its den and you only had a general direction to search in. Whatever lodgings the dragon had found or made for itself had to be massive so you were sure that you’d know it when you came across it.

As you continued your search you cursed your omega biology. Something you did frequently. You felt a familiar tingle in your belly that was unmistakable. Your body was getting ready to enter heat. Even with magic suppressants there was just no way to completely avoid a heat. Or to hide one if someone got too close to you during one. The best modern magical marvels could do was shorten one and make it less intense.

Another reason you’d have to avoid marrying the prince. But that was something you could worry about at a later time, it would do you no good to have your mind head elsewhere while trying to locate and kill a dragon.

Little did you know that the dragon had already located you, long before you had entered its territory. The only warning you had was the swoosh of wings as he descended upon you. Your reaction was fast though and you managed to block the strike of his sharp claws with your blade. What the hell? He wasn’t a giant dragon… he was a half-breed… A race of dragon-human hybrids originally created with a magical blood pact between ancient dragons and wizards. The locals let their fear overtake them and greatly exaggerated the threat.

That didn’t mean you could take him lightly, dragon hybrids were known to be powerful and swift. Well they were rumored to be, at least. They were even less common than dragons.

A more ferocious foe you had never encountered, clawing and slashing at you with grace and brutality. The scales on his hands and arms allowed him to strike your blade with no weapon other than his relatively short claws. They were black and shimmered with each movement. They covered his well muscled arms, legs, and framed his face. To get a good strike on him you’d have to hit his face or chest.

Easier said than done. He was nearly 7ft. tall and exceptionally strong. He wasn’t making this simple for you. What was worse than that though were his mounting pheromones. As the battle went on he sweated more and more, and with no clothing other than a barbarian style fur loincloth it was easy to smell him. The musk of a normal human alpha was something you had long since learned to ignore as if it was damn near nothing, but this wasn’t like that at all. It was making you a little dizzy.

“You should just give up omega.”

His sensitive nose could pierce through your false scent. You shook your head and redoubled your focus and determination. You stared right into his fiery red eyes as you deflected a harrowing blow before tackling him with your metal clad body, opening him up to an additional attack. You slashed into his torso, causing him to recoil in pain. You pressed the advantage and stabbed him in the abdomen.

The dragon almost sliced you to ribbons before you could withdraw your weapon from him. Were he a regular man he would likely be on the ground bleeding out by now, but he was no regular man and roared as he began attacking you wildly.

Every strike was either dodged, deflected, or uselessly glanced off your armor. You got a few more solid strikes in, one on his bicep above where the scales started and another across the chest. He was breathing harder.

But for some reason so were you.

“Y-you should just give up alpha,” you sneered mocking what he had said to you earlier. Though it sounded a lot less intimidating than you had intended.

You started shaking and had to kneel down, leaning on your sword in the dirt. Pain in your stomach, a biological demand, slick rolling down your thighs beneath your armor. You were burning up. His pheromones hung thickly in the air, they had brought forth your heat much faster and harder than you had ever experienced before, completely negating any effect of the suppressants in your body.

All your experience and combat skill and taken down by a dragon’s musk and your own omega biology? It was a disgrace.

Now given the proper time to recover he used healing magic on his wounds. Combined with his already naturally enhanced healing abilities this resulted in him having only faint scars where he was previously injured. “Aww, all helpless because of your little heat darling~”

He sauntered over to you and looked down with a smug expression.

“Sorry for getting the drop on you, but you would have gotten it on me had you found me first. Anyway… now that you are a bit less feisty I think we can do a proper introduction now can’t we?”

Your heat was so strong now that you could barely focus on breathing evenly as you tried to stumble away. There was no way you could find the words to respond.

“I am Ivos, your mate. Don’t worry, I already know your name and everything about you.”

He pushed you down to your knees and kicked away your sword. At this distance his pheromones demanded your attention. He removed your helmet and started prying your armor apart plate by plate, totally scrapping the armor that had been so important to you. Soon you were in nothing but your regular clothes and then not even those as he sliced them up with his claws.

Now you were completely naked before him. The smell of his arousal was palpable. You glanced up towards him and noticed two large bulges poking out in his loincloth. He put his hand on your cheek and rubbed it with a scaled thumb. All it took was that touch for the last of your resolve to melt.

“I have been waiting for this for so long, have been following you for over a year now. Came across you taking down a horde of undead. Then watched you fight battle after battle. Scared the town because I knew it would draw you out. So strong. The only mate worthy of me. But an omega still shouldn’t be forced to live like an alpha.”

All you could do was whimper in need.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you wait any longer. Couldn’t hold out if I tried.”

Ivos pulled off his loincloth and revealed two large slimy cocks, proud and erect, protruding from his genital slit. He sat down right on the ground then pulled you into his lap, he grinded his dicks against your hole then stretched it with a couple fingers before lifting you up and slamming you down. Both of his cocks firmly impaled your weeping hole. You gasped in pleasure. You had never put anything inside of you to relieve your heats, you thought giving into your omega nature would be like giving in to something you shouldn’t.

He grinded slowly into you, back and forth, making you drool as you leaned against him weakly. He teased your neck with his long tongue, swirling and lapping at your sensitive gland there. Your toes flexed and writhed as he did so. This felt so good. So so good. This is where you wanted to be for the rest of eternity, on his lap skewered on both of his cocks while inhaling his smell.

The dragon wanted to take your bliss to a higher level though, he increased the speed of his thrusts into you while carefully stroking your cock with the hand he wasn’t using to caress your back. He kept at it for a while, gradually increasing the pace as he went. You came hard, panting and shaking as your seed coated his abdomen.

Over the course of the next two hours you were entirely at the mercy of his sexual desire, too overstimulated to do anything other than twitch in pleasure and drool as he broke your brain with orgasm after orgasm. You gasped as he came inside you, stretching your virgin hole to its absolute limit with not one but two girthy knots. He did what came to him instinctively, biting your neck and claiming you as his with a mark. The stimulation was so extreme you not only emptied your balls once more but also your bladder, piss getting all over the both of you.

Ivos didn’t seem to mind at all, in fact he seemed pretty pleased with having fucked you so completely that you lost control of your entire body. He licked the bite mark he had branded you with free of blood before picking you up and flying to his lair, knots still firmly inside you. He took your sword with him, figuring the blade you had come so far with may be of sentimental value to you, but he left the destroyed armor and his loincloth.

Ivos held you as tightly as he could, the cold air returning you to your senses and making you very uncomfortable. When his cocks slipped out of you and retracted back into him gobs of cum dripped out onto the forest below. He smirked at how strongly you clung to him. It wasn’t like you wanted to, but you were terrified at being up so high. You certainly wouldn’t struggle when it could mean your death if you fell.

Your new lover had made his residence in a relatively small tower abandoned beyond the hills. By the time you got there you were so sore and tired from holding on so tight, and the brutal fucking you had endured earlier, that you were in no condition to rebel. You were so obedient when he cleaned you up and fed you. It made his heart flutter, his strong mate being so good for him.

“Such a good boy~”

A grunt of defiance was all you could muster in the way of a rebellious response.

Ivos would quickly learn that you would not be staying so well behaved. You fought him at every opportunity. And he fucked you back into compliance every time he needed to. It took a long while but at least you stopped struggling at the sex. It actually felt quite amazing. And afterwards you were always so good for him.

Even so, while he admired your rebellious spirit, he wanted you to like him all the time. Not just when you were drowning in his pheromones and bouncing on his knots. He caught you the best food, took care of all your needs, brought you trinkets and gifts that would have otherwise gone to his hoard. Sometimes it seemed like you resented these gestures, you were trying so hard to not be a typical omega, and he supposed you really weren’t to some extent.

He had an idea of what to do to get you to enjoy his company more, though he could tell you were planning an escape soon. Your scent was one of someone on edge. Someone deceptive. Luckily you had no idea he could smell such a thing.

The hybrid wanted to start taking you out to hunt with him, maybe even fight some monsters. He had come to the conclusion that maybe you weren’t entirely forced to act like an alpha, maybe you enjoyed some aspects of it and he needed to ease back a bit on catering to you as if you were a princess.

But he had to get you to give up hope of escape before he could trust you going on long outings, not to mention letting you wield lethal weaponry… he didn’t even let you have access to your sword...

Ivos was spot on about you trying to get away. You had spent a couple weeks with him and were constantly thinking about potential plans for getting away. You were also studying his behaviors. Testing how deep a sleeper he was, for example. You weren’t just going to bolt at the first chance. It had to be calculated.

To make your move, you needed a rainy day. The sound of the rain would help hide the sounds of your escape. Of course, you realized that even if your armor hadn't been reduced to scrap, you still would have had to abandon it whenever you made your bid for freedom. The pang of water on metal would give you away along with the weight adding to your footprints and slowing you down. You mourned its loss, not for the first time.

You also needed rain to help mask your scent from that damned sensitive dragon nose of his.

It was grueling. Having to wait for the perfect weather when you had no idea when it would finally rain. Having to act good and behave. Keep your head down and bear the sexual and romantic harassment that were damn near unrelenting. And those damnable pheromones of his. But finally, you had what you so desperately wanted.

A glorious downpour. You couldn't ask for a better chance at escape. Dark clouds late at night. Loud booming crashes of thunder. Pounding rain that would soak you in seconds. You just prayed that it would be enough to wash away your pheromones without your suppressants.

As stealthily as you could, you made your way down the tower and slunk out into the concealment of the storm. The only thing you brought with you were the clothes on your back and your sword for protection from whatever may dwell in the night. Unknown to you, Ivos had let it “fall” from the high place where he had mounted it. Didn’t want you to get hurt by something during your escape attempt.

Once you had traversed the nearby hills and then the forest, you'd be near the village he had terrorized to bait you and could get your horse there.

But one thing at a time, you still had to clear the sloping terrain and trees before you could worry about that. You went as fast as you could go without slipping in the mud or splashing through puddles, but it was going to be a long journey.

Ivos had been asleep when you crept out, or so you thought, but you couldn't be sure how long he would remain that way.

As you continued on through the rain filled night, you began to feel gradually more confident and hopeful about your freedom. You were going to make it. You had been worried if you had been able to maintain the correct course given the darkness and disorienting thunder, but after hours of hiking there it was, the edge of the forest. And when lightning flashed, you could see the town in the distance.

You were so close! You increased your pace, spurred on by the promise of successful liberation. Then, beneath the constant patter of rain, you could have sworn you heard the swoosh of wings. Probably the wind rushing through the tre-

The next thing you knew, you were on your stomach, pushed into the mud. Your sword kicked away uselessly. Your hope was shattered. You struggled, but you might as well have been a mewling kitten.

"If you wanted to play cat and mouse, darling, all you had to do was ask."

You clambered to get away, clawing at the wet ground, as he pulled you back towards him and slashed away all your clothes before sighing laboriously.

"You had been behaving so well too... I guess I'm going to have to give you a little attitude adjustment..."

Both of his large cocks protruded at full length from his genital slit. The rain had quickly faded to a light sprinkle, and the smell of his musk had quickly grown overwhelming. The smell of his desire rolled off of him and quickly had you once more slicked up against your will.

"There's a good boy~"

Your hole twitched around his fingers as he teased you by slipping them inside. You struggled to contain a whimper as you grinded your ass against his fingers.

"Beg for it."

You tried to resist, but his scent and touch had completely taken over your brain. You didn't even have a heat to blame it on this time, and he wasn't in rough. Just his aroused musk could reduce you to a throbbing ball of need.

"Pl-please just... do it already..."

You were glad the darkness of night and the grime that clung to you covered the shame on your face.

"Good enough."

He smoothly slipped both slimy cocks right on into you.

"Damn, that's gooood."

Once more, his twin pricks pounded into you at an increasing pace, filling you far better than any one-cocked human alpha could ever hope to.

Ivos smirked at your wanton moans. They were like candy for his ears. Proof that if you ever got too far out of line he could just fuck you back into obedience. With your armor and blade, you may have been a skilled combatant, but what did it matter when he could make you so helpless?

He kept right on railing you into the mud. His cocks filled you to the brim with cum as he renewed his claiming bite on your neck. You shuddered and came as he knotted you up, the girth of both knots firmly adhering the two of you together.

But he was far from done with your little "lesson." He didn't stop until both of you had come several times, and you lay beneath him trembling and barely conscious.

When his knots went down and his cocks slipped out cum splooged out all over your ass, thighs, and legs. You were covered in mud. Calling you a mess was a serious understatement. Though you were in no state of mind to care.

"Aaaah, that was great~"

The dragon picked you up bridal style and flew the two of you back home. He ran you a bath and cleaned you of all the mud, sweat, and cum.

The next thing you knew, you were in bed with his arms wrapped firmly around you. As the events from last night came back to you, you silently cursed yourself for having been taken so easily.

It became a new pattern in your defiance of him. One carefully curated by Ivos. You'd run off and, just as you were about to escape the forest, he'd swoop right in and fuck you damn near senseless. Then he'd take you back, and you'd wake up clean and in his arms.

You tried in various weather conditions, times of day, you tried fighting, you tried plugging your nose to shield against his scent, but no matter what you did it played out exactly the same.

The final time you had ever tried to escape went much like all the others, up until you neared the tree line. You paused, eyeing the divide between the forest and grassland that would lead you down into Umberfell.

Though you could not see him, Ivos was watching you intently, ready to pounce upon you at the last possible moment. A growing sense of unease gripped you. You even started shaking. No no. You couldn't go forward... Ivos would have you on the ground and fuck you into the dirt... It was all pointless.

You turned and ran back to the dragon's tower.

Ivos smiled brightly from his hidden position in the trees. Your training was complete, you knew what would happen if you tried to do something silly like running off. Now he could, at long last, execute his idea.

It did take much longer than Ivos would have liked, but the alpha was patient and ultimately he had gotten the results he wanted. Taking you out to hunt, letting you prepare and cook your own meat half the time, taking you out for some good old fashion monster slaying, not doting on you too much outside of your heats while at the same time tending to your biological needs by supplying you with all the dick and musk you could want, had gradually made you happily in love with him.

It was much better than your old life, you came to realize that. Being allowed to do things that alphas typically did and no longer having to repress your scent and omega instincts was liberating.

What’s more, you no longer had such weighty responsibilities. The burden of the kingdom’s safety, a kingdom that would have shunned you had they known your secret, was an immense weight to shoulder. And if you had made it back what would have happened anyway? Be a hermit forced to live alone as an alpha for the rest of your life? Thrown into a life of dishonor for refusing the king’s request that you marry his son? No matter what, you would have been miserable.

Ivos had actually freed you, and you loved him deeply.

#yandere terato #yandere x reader #my ocs #monster boyfriend #yandere boyfriend #yandere monster #male yandere x male reader #male reader #My OC Ivos #yandere dragon man #yandere dragon #yandere a/b/o #yandere alpha #omega reader #omegaverse #yandere omegaverse #omega male reader

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beloveds-embrace · 2 days ago

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The part where Duke John gets a nightmare of the angst au. Now I wanna see the angst duke to suffer. Hear me out, it’s different than dreaming, it’s angst John somehow possessing the body of fluff Duke John and getting to live with the version of him not driving reader to deep depression/running away and marrying her guard. He got to live in that reality for a week before he got violently pull back to his reality where reader is deeply depressed or had already run away and eloped with Konig.

The world felt wrong.

John Price woke up to the sound of birdsong filtering through sheer curtains, soft light spilling across the bed. The mattress dipped slightly, warmth pressed against his side- an unfamiliar yet achingly pleasant weight- like when he had his lovers pressed against him, yet none of them felt like this exact weight. When he opened his eyes, he saw you curled against him, face serene in sleep. His lovers were there, too, the big bed piled with bodies yet he couldn’t look away from you.

His breath hitched.

This wasn’t right.

The last thing he remembered was the suffocating darkness of his study- papers piled high, half-empty glasses of whiskey staining the surface, and the emptiness echoing in his chest where something- someone- had once resided. He remembered the guilt that choked him, the bitter taste of regret as he stood outside your bedroom door, too much of a coward to knock.

But now…

You stirred beside him, your lashes fluttering as you blinked up at him, sleepy and soft.

“John?” Your voice was honeyed with drowsiness, and God, the way you said his name- like it was safe, like he was safe.

He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.

This wasn’t his life. Not the one he had shaped, sharp and cold.

You frowned then, pushing yourself up slightly. Your hand, so gentle, so devastatingly kind, pressed against his forehead. “You’re burning up. Did you sleep poorly again?”

Again?

Price swallowed, desperate to ground himself in this strange, impossible reality. His hands- calloused and rough, yet no longer trembling from whiskey and sleepless nights- caught your wrist, holding you still.

“You’re here.” He rasped, as though the words alone could make sense of this.

You tilted your head, confused but not wary. Not frightened of him.

“Of course I’m here, honey ” you said softly. “Where else would I be?”

He couldn’t answer. He couldn’t tell you about the other you, the hollowed-out ghost he had left behind. The you who no longer smiled, whose laughter had faded into echoes in the corridors of his cold, empty home.

Instead, he pulled you close.

And you let him.

The week that followed felt like a dream- so sweet it hurt, left cavities that rang hallow in his teeth.

John saw the life he had destroyed laid out before him as though mocking him. The version of himself that existed here- this other John- had not made the same mistakes.

Here, you were cherished.

The household bustled around you, every servant greeting you warmly and lingering just a moment longer to share kind words. Kyle hovered near you like a protective shadow, hands gentle as he helped you arrange flowers or carry boxes too heavy for you. Johnny teased you endlessly in the kitchens, offering bites of whatever new dessert he’d concocted until you laughed so hard you had to wipe away tears. Simon, so often stoic, let his guard down completely around you- offering quiet companionship during your walks and even indulging your requests to teach you to paint.

And John…

This John loved you openly.

He wasn’t burdened by guilt, wasn’t weighed down by regret. He touched you without hesitation, lingered at your side as though he couldn’t bear to leave you for even a moment.

It was agonizing.

Because the other John- the one trapped in this perfect, golden life- knew it wasn’t his.

And he knew it couldn’t last.

He clung to every moment, every stolen glance and touch, trying to memorize the sound of your laughter and the way your eyes softened whenever you looked at him. He tried to be the man this version of himself was, desperate to make up for the damage he had done in the life he came from.

But it wasn’t enough. Not when he knew this wasn’t real.

When it ended, it was abrupt.

One moment, he was laughing with you in the gardens, your hand in his as you plucked fresh herbs for dinner. The next, his vision swam- darkness rushing in, cold and sharp and suffocating.

And when he woke, it was to the dim light of his study and the stale taste of whiskey on his tongue, the scene familiar.

He sat up too fast, bile rising in his throat as the world swayed. His heart hammered wildly, panic and disbelief clawing at his chest.

No.

No, no, no.

“Duchess,” he croaked, shoving away from the desk. His limbs were heavy, stiff from disuse, but he didn’t care. He staggered to your bedroom, barely able to keep himself upright.

The door creaked when he opened it (it was locked hours ago, you must have snuck out to scavange for food), revealing a suffocating stillness inside. The curtains were drawn, but a sliver of moonlight cut through the crack, illuminating the shape of you curled up on the massive bed.

You looked so small. Achingly so.

John’s chest tightened painfully. His nightmare had come to life again- except now he knew it wasn’t just a dream. He’d lived it. He’d seen what could have been. And now this- this- was what he had done instead.

His knees hit the floor beside the bed.

“Duchess.” He whispered, barely able to say your title through the lump in his throat.

You didn’t move.

Terror gripped him. Were you even breathing? His shaking hand hovered above your shoulder before gently pressing against it.

“Love. Please.”

You stirred, a soft noise escaping your lips as you turned your head just enough for him to see the faint outline of your face. John sucked in another breath, but the sound caught when he saw the dark smudges beneath your eyes. The way your lips looked chapped.

The dullness in your gaze when it finally met his, even clouded by sleep.

“…John?” Your voice cracked, raspy from likely crying your tender little heart out.

God, he hated himself.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he choked, his hands trembling as he touched your face. “Yes, I’m here. I’m here, I swear.”

You flinched. Just slightly, but he felt it.

It shattered him. John didn’t let go, though. He couldn’t- not when you felt so fragile beneath his touch. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, wiping away tears he hadn’t even realized had started falling.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so- God, I’m so sorry, love.”

You blinked slowly, as if trying to understand. “What… what are you doing here?”

“I should’ve been here the whole time.” His voice was raw, thick with guilt and grief. “I should’ve- should’ve never let it get this bad. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t-”

You flinched again, and he fell silent. When you turned away from him, curling in on yourself, his heart nearly gave out.

“Please,” he begged. “Please don’t shut me out. I’ll fix this. I’ll fix everything- I swear it, I’ll never- never let it get like this again.”

“You don’t- ” Your voice wavered, cracking. “You don’t even like me, John.”

The words pierced him deeper than any blade ever could.

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“No,” he said fiercely, climbing into the bed beside you without thinking. You stiffened, but he wrapped his arms around you anyway, pulling you against his chest. “No, it’s not true. I do like you- I care about you so much, and I’ve been a fool. I’ve been the worst husband you could’ve ever had, but I swear to you- on my life- that changes now.”

Your breath hitched. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” he murmured into your hair, pressing trembling kisses against your temple. “I’m not lying. I swear it. You’re my wife. My duchess. And I will spend every single day proving to you that you’re precious to me. I’m so sorry, Duchess. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. I should’ve never allowed anyone, even my lovers, to treat you like that. I’m so sorry.”

The sob that broke from you nearly killed him, but you didn’t push him away. Instead, your fingers clutched weakly at his shirt, and he held you even tighter.

“I’ll fix it,” he swore again, rocking you gently as you weeped against his chest. “I’ll make this right. I’ll protect you from everything- even from myself, if I have to. Just don’t leave me. Don’t give up on me yet.”

The tears didn’t stop for a long time. But by the time your breathing evened out and your fingers loosened their grip, John knew.

He had another chance.

And he would never, ever waste it again.

#noona.asks #ended this with some hope lol #cod x reader #cod x you #cod #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 x you #tf 141 #cod imagines #john price x reader #poly 141 x you #john price x you #poly!141 x reader #poly 141 x reader #poly!141 #poly 141 #noona.writes

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sleepy-tiger78 · 2 days ago

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This is a serious issue we need to talk about more. Aroace characters like Senku and Saiki K are constantly misrepresented. Like yeah Saiki says something similar to “she has a nice face shape that makes her look attractive” but he wasn’t saying he was attracted to her. Literally the whole series is him trying to get away from her also just because he wants to be like that one basic dude don’t mean he wants to be with the basic dude.

With Senku he has no romantic partner. Yeah it was hinted in the anime as a joke, multiple times but that’s the point. It was referenced as a JOKE for a reason.

Also both anime’s are comedy anime’s so the main character is more likely to not get a love interest or to not be in love so the series can keep going. In most anime’s once the main character falls in love and settles down then the anime ends. Like if Luffy got a wife after he finds the one piece, or when Kaneki got married, when Tanjiro and kanao settle down.

In comedy’s they typically like to leave it on a cliff hanger. They want the audience to feel incomplete so they will gain more off the series. Yeah Senku and Kohaku kissed but it was only a misdirection and they both were genuinely grossed out by it and they looked like they were about to throw up.

Dr Stone wouldn’t end with Senku settling down with someone. That’s just not how he is. Even after he saves the whole world he’s gonna keep doing things. Making new inventions and maybe leave all his work for a successor to do the same thing he did. It’s Senku, he’s not gonna do the deed when instead he could be helping the world get back on track.

And if we’re being fr rn there is NO WAY either of them would do that. Like I’ve pictured it and all I can picture is Senku about the throw up and Saiki passing out. Maybe it’s just self projection but I’m just being fr rn.

!!!!ALSO I KNOW BOTH THESE CHARACTERS ARNT CANONICALLY AROACE BUT I JUST NEEDED AN EXAMPLE AND I THOUGH OF THEM FIRST!!!

the way fandoms are desperate to make all aroace characters romance and sex favorable but then dont do anything remotely similar to any other identity is astounding. hmm i wonder why

PLEASE dont derail this about shipping characters of other identities please let this one post be about an aroace struggle

#aroace #aromantic #asexual #aro #ace #saiki k #kusuo saiki #aroace struggles #lgbtqia #ishigami senku #senku #dr stone senku #dr stone

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httpscameron · 2 days ago

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arranged marriage with simon.

the marriage was arranged by your parents, you didnt even know it was going to happen until a few weeks before the wedding. your first meeting with simon was in a coffee shop. your mum just told you to go there at ten am to meet him there.

he stood out like a sore thumb. his hair was messy, a dirty blond but short, he was sat in a booth with a cup of tea in a to-go cup. a look of exhaustion on his face and a five oclock shadow of a beard. he had eyebags that were deep but his eyes were a soft blue. simon wore dark clothes, probably to keep himself looked at atleast as possible.

you took a breath of nerves before getting a coffee yourself before going over. you stood opposite him. “simon riley?” you asked him just to confirm really that he was infact your husband to be.

he just nodded “yeah i am.” he didnt bother asking for your name because well youre obviously his future wife he knows your name. “i didnt ask for this you to be my mrs, so dont blame me.” he tells you a in mutter. his voice was husky, a smoker and clearly a heavy one at that.

after that visit you didnt meet again until your wedding, you couldnt really class it as a wedding. you both went to county hall and signed the documents and you had your stuff moved in that night.

it was awkward, very awkward. that night the two of you stayed in silence. you both agreed to share a bed because thats what married people did. he was in a pair of joggers and a dark tank top. you were in your usual pyjamas. both of you as far away as possible in the bed. the tv was on playing the eleven oclock news. once the show finished you both said your good nights and that was it.

life went on like that for a few months, simple hellos and simple mutters of how are you. it was terrible. he was a good man at that, he allowed you to quit your job and the two of you lived on his income, you had unlimited cash and could do as you please. however the one thing you werent allowed to do was cheat. it was a basic thing you both agreed to early on as it wasnt fair on the other no matter how much you both disliked the marriage.

simon went on deployment, it was long three months without speaking (like that really bothered you). he returned late into the night, you were asleep in your bed, sleeping as snug as you could.

he kicked his boots off at the bottom of the bed and his clothes stripping to his boxers, as he climbed into bed, his arms wrapped around you quickly. waking you up. “simon?” you said quickly.

“shh birdie i need this.” he huffed, his head going into the crook of your neck, sniffing your hair which still smelt like that shampoo you used. you just being there settled him instantly. he fell asleep instantly too. you fell asleep too, the warmth of his arms was somewhat suprisingly nice too.

after that night you both had a silent agreement to sleep cuddling, even if some nights your head was on his chest or you both spooned. it was nice actually, being close to your husband.

the two of you eventually agreed on going on date nights, simple stuff twice a month even if it was getting a take out and watching a film and well it was perfect. settling into routines with him that you never thought would happen. being able to fall in love with your husband.

he thought of you as his salvation, your relationship bloomed into one of love and adoration to each other, spending early mornings and late nights together. simon wouldnt be the man he was without you, even if it was a rocky start it still happened. you still both fell in love and had the happy ending neither of you expected.

masterlist

#simon riley x you #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod mwii #cod mw3 #cod modern warfare #cod

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 days ago

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Hi! I recently watched the new Gladiator sequel and I’m so obsessed with the emperors, they’re absolute cuties<3 I was just wondering if you could write some headcanons maybe about being married to both of them, of course it’s fine if you don’t write about polygamy

Have a great day

My freaky gingers! Fred and Joseph did amazing as Caracalla and Geta in my opinion, my freaky little sadistic ginger emperors.

Being wanted by one sibling meant being desired by the other.

Geta and Caracalla shared everything, for nothing could ever belong to one of them as the other was bound to grow envious and want the same thing for himself.

So let’s say you were originally planned to marry just Geta or Caracalla, but the pair would abuse their power as emperors and demand that you were to marry both of them instead.

‘It’s the will of the gods after all.’ Geta would say.

‘And we wouldn’t want to displease them now would we?’ Caracalla would add with a cackle.

You had no say whatsoever but to agree to marry the brother emperors, which many didn’t bother to bat an eye of how curious a case this was, but again they too were under the belief that this was the will of the gods for the emperors to share a spouse for the betterment of their rule.

Both brothers thrive for your attention to be on them and they’d do anything to have it wherever and whenever they can, and all you could do was give them the attention that they so desire.

Hold them close to your chest, cradle them there and let them hear your heart and your breathing to smooth them in knowing that someone did love them, for being there for them as a safe haven from the frequent scheming of the senate and the betrayals and the constant needed to look over their shoulders to make sure no one was going to stab them in the back.

So being with you and held so closely like they deeply desired when before ascending the throne, made it all seem worth while if it meant being gifted the love that they so sought after in those they considered a close confidant within the senate, or just in general approval from the public they rule over.

Marriage life with Geta and Caracalla wasn’t easy, you didn’t expect it to in the slightest as you were constantly seen between the two emperors, draped in the finest of silks and jewellery they could find as to signal your beginning to them both, to show that you were on equal footing as your emperor husbands as your counsel was the one they often followed more often then not.

Does this mean they are rid of the concubines? Probably not and whether or not this was an issue for you is up for debate.

If it is then you’d naturally be questioning the loyalty of your emperor husbands in a fit of embarrassment and shame, not wanting to look a fool within your own marriage, especially not in front of the Roman public nor the senate that would try to whisper words of infidelity about Geta and Caracalla.

‘Am I not your spouse? You forced me into marriage with the two of you and yet you both still seek paid comfort.’ You’d spat as though it was venom in my mouth.

‘My love-‘

You’d glare at Geta who stopped short in his tracks as Caracalla watched you both with eerily silence.

‘If you are to seek paid comfort, then don’t expect none from me should you continue this route of self indulgence.’ You say before leaving the room, not once looking back as you returned to your shared chambers. Again you wouldn’t want to look a fool when your emperor husbands run to the arms of concubines, you were above it.

Let’s hypothetically say you have concubines yourself in retaliation, they’d unfortunately all be dead on the orders of Geta and Caracalla in a fit of rage.

Your marriage isn’t pretty nor romantic in the slightest, and I’m not trying to make it out to be like that, just only that your marriage to them both could be full of hypocrisy and jealousy and sometimes accusations of cheating would arise also as a result.

It’s a mess and wouldn’t get sorted unless your three are clear headed and clam enough to talk it out like healthy lovers should. And when it does get sorted, you all act as though everything that had come to this point of peace didn’t happen at all, as soon enough you were back to holding the emperor brothers again your chest as they slept.

Due to being their spouse you naturally had a target on your back, so it would be of no surprise that you were to be the intended victim for an assignation attempt by shadowy figures hiding their identities in the background.

Shadowy figures that wanted you dead as to kill any sort of morale the emperor brothers had by taken what’s theirs.

Let’s say you survive the attempt, make no mistake that your emperor husbands would be by your side immediately, anger and fury written as clear as day across their faces as they had you pressed between the two of them, they’d whispered hushed words into your ears about finding who did this to you and killing them publicly to show their intolerance to attempts on their spouse.

Your emperor husbands would make sure you were constantly guarded no matter what afterwards, killing those who didn’t do their duty and replacing them with new guards that would keep you safe when they were with the senate, or in the study.

They become insufferably clingy and overprotective afterwards that it felt suffocating to be in the same room with them being so close to you, it was overwhelming and they’d even have people test whenever or not your drink and or food was tampered with as extra precaution.

You understood their worries to an extent but if it’s been a good while since the attempt, then you find it unnecessary to continue such tight and overbearing conditions they had put in place. So it’s best to speak with them about that for paranoia had overtaken them both with the ideas that you’d be killed or taken even if they were to even dare blink.

Being married to Geta and Caracalla was chaos incarnate, discord and mayhem disguised in gold, jewellery and expensive silks and lavished lifestyles; a perfect facade to cover the true nature of their own unravelling beneath the mask they’ve made to get by as rulers of a powerful empire ever known.

#emperor geta #geta x reader #geta x you #geta imagine #Geta imagines #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta x you #emperor geta x y/n #emperor geta imagine #emperor geta imagines #emperor caracalla #caracalla x reader #caracalla x you #Caracalla imagine #Caracalla imagines #emperor caracalla x reader #emperor caracalla x you #emperor Caracalla imagine #emperor Caracalla imagines

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pandapetals · 2 days ago

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New Beginnings

Eight months after the miscarriage, Logan finds something that brings both of you hope.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, angst, miscarriage mentioned, found family, mentions of death and blood, some fluff towards the end, trigger warning

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

Everything was a blur as Logan ran alongside Ororo through the smoldering remains of the village. The anti-mutant group had left their mark—fires burning through homes, screams echoing in the distance, blood staining the streets. Logan had seen carnage before, more times than he cared to remember, but it never got easier. No matter how many times he witnessed it, the devastation always gnawed at something deep inside him.

“Just get as many people out as possible!” Scott yelled as he dashed past, ushering a group of frightened kids toward safety.

Ororo nodded, extending her arms to summon rain that hissed and sizzled as it met the persistent flames. Logan stood beside her, silent, his keen senses scanning the chaos. But then he heard it—a sound so faint it almost slipped past him. A small, muffled cry.

“Logan, let’s move—” Ororo began, but she stopped when she saw his head snap in the direction of the sound.

"Go on without me," Logan muttered his attention already pulled away.

“Logan—where are you going?” Ororo called, but he barely raised a hand in acknowledgment as he started walking, his steps heavy yet purposeful. The sound—it was faint, a whisper through the destruction—was tugging at him, leading him.

He wove through the ruins, stepping over charred wood and shattered glass, his ears straining. The crying grew clearer the closer he got until he found himself standing in front of a small wooden cabin, or what was left of it. Half of it had collapsed, the other half barely standing, its roof caved in. The cold air rushed through the broken walls, carrying with it the faint sound of a baby crying.

Logan’s breath hitched, a flicker of something unnameable settling in his chest.

Carefully, he stepped through the doorway, scanning the wreckage. The floor was littered with debris—splintered wood, shattered dishes, a child’s toy half-melted from the fire. His sharp eyes caught sight of a small, woven basket tucked under what remained of a scorched bedframe.

He knelt, heart pounding against his ribs as he reached for the basket. The crying grew louder as he pulled it free. Peeling back the tattered, soot-streaked blanket, he froze.

Inside was a baby—a tiny girl with chubby, tear-streaked cheeks, her face scrunched up as she wailed. She looked so small and fragile. Logan’s breath caught as he gently scooped her into his arms, his large hands cradling her with a care that might’ve shocked anyone who knew him. Her cries quieted almost immediately, her big, watery eyes blinking up at him.

Logan’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. She had stopped crying the second she was in his arms as if some instinct told her she was safe. She blinked again, and for a moment, Logan swore he saw something familiar in her gaze—those wide, hazel eyes, flecked with gold, looking at him like she knew him.

“No… can’t be,” he muttered, shaking his head. His jaw clenched, and he tore his eyes away from hers, staring instead at the blanket she’d been wrapped in. It was ragged and soot-stained, but it smelled faintly of home—of parents who were nowhere to be found.

The weight of the moment pressed down on him. He wasn’t sure if it was the chaos still raging outside, the vulnerability of the little girl in his arms, or the haunting ache of all the children and families he hadn’t been able to save over the years, but something inside him cracked. His protective instincts surged to the surface, raw and overwhelming.

“You’re alright now,” he muttered softly almost as if he were trying to convince himself. His thumb brushed gently over her tiny hand, which instinctively curled around his finger. The baby let out a soft coo, and Logan felt something unfamiliar bloom in his chest.

Ororo’s voice broke the moment as she called from outside. “Logan!”

He turned toward the door, the baby tucked securely in his arms, her little head resting against his chest. “Found somethin’,” he called back, his voice thick with emotion he didn’t quite know how to process yet.

When Ororo stepped inside and saw him holding the baby, her eyes widened in surprise. “Logan…”

“She’s alone,” he said, his voice quieter now, his gaze locked on the infant. “No parents. Nothin’. Just her.” His jaw tightened, a protective growl almost slipping out as he added, “I’m not leavin’ her.”

Ororo’s expression softened, her eyes lingering on Logan in a way that spoke of quiet surprise. Logan stood there, cradling the baby like he’d been doing it his whole life, though his jaw was tight, and his eyes betrayed the storm of conflict raging inside him.

“Alright,” Ororo said gently, her voice pulling Logan from his thoughts. “We’ll see if anyone knows anything.”

Logan gave a curt nod, his hands instinctively tightening their hold on the tiny bundle in his arms. He didn’t mean to grip her so protectively, but the thought of letting her go—even for a moment—sent a pang of unease through him. “Yeah,” he murmured though a strange tenderness lingered in it.

As they stepped out of the ruined cabin together, the chaos in the village had begun to quiet, but the air was still heavy with smoke and the low hum of grief. Logan’s gaze dropped to the baby, her face now peaceful as she slept soundly against his chest. She looked so small, so fragile, and yet she had somehow calmed the moment he’d held her. Her tiny hand curled against his finger like it was her lifeline. He swore, just for a second, that her tiny features reminded him of you.

He shook his head, his brows furrowing. Get a grip, Logan. This wasn’t his kid. This baby was someone else’s, a victim of this senseless attack, and yet... the pull he felt in his chest was undeniable. Protective, raw, and something deeper he couldn’t quite put into words.

When they reached the center of the village, Scott was standing among the survivors, his arms crossed, his expression tense as he organized the final efforts to evacuate. He turned at the sound of their footsteps, his eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed the small figure cradled in Logan’s arms.

“What’s that?” Scott asked, his voice tinged with confusion as he nodded toward the baby.

Logan’s jaw tightened, but it was Ororo who answered. “Logan found her in one of the cabins on the edge of the village. Did anyone mention a missing baby?” Her eyes scanned the area, her brow furrowed as if hoping someone would rush forward with answers.

Scott shook his head, his expression grim. “No, everyone I helped didn’t mention anything about a baby. Most of the families I spoke to are accounted for.” He paused, his gaze flicking to the baby. “We can take her back to the mansion. Maybe the Professor can help us figure out where she belongs.”

Logan nodded silently, though his grip on the baby didn’t loosen. As much as he hated to admit it, the idea of letting someone else figure this out twisted something deep inside him. She’d stopped crying the moment he’d picked her up, and the thought of handing her off to someone else made his stomach churn. But this wasn’t about him.

“Here, let me,” Logan said, shifting slightly as if to pass the baby to Ororo. “I’ll stay behind, make sure there’s no one else in the village.”

But the moment Ororo’s arms brushed against the baby, her eyes fluttered open, and she let out a piercing wail, her tiny face scrunching up in distress. Logan froze, his heart squeezing at the sound.

“I don’t think she wants that,” Ororo joked softly, her gaze softening as she watched the baby squirm in Logan’s arms.

Logan huffed, his frustration barely masking the tug of something warmer. “Well, I can’t just take her with me,” he argued, though his words lacked their usual bite.

Scott stepped forward, holding his hands out. “Here, let me. Nathan loves it when I hold him. Babies can sense calm.” He smirked, clearly teasing Logan.

Scott took the baby, her cries only growing louder as her tiny fists flailed in protest. Logan’s lips twitched into half a smirk, half a grimace. “Guess calm doesn’t work with everyone, huh, Summers?” he said, his tone edged with dry humor.

Scott’s confidence faltered as he handed the baby back quickly, muttering, “Alright, fine. Not a fan of me, I get it.”

The baby quieted instantly as she nestled back into Logan’s chest, her tiny body curling against his like it was the only place she wanted to be. Logan blinked, staring down at her in disbelief.

“I think she likes you,” Ororo said with a knowing smile, her voice teasing but gentle.

Logan looked down at the baby, his rugged face softening. Her little hand reached out, gripping his finger again, and his throat tightened. “Well,” he muttered, his voice thick, “I can’t exactly blame her. I’m the only one here who knows how to carry her right.”

Ororo chuckled, sharing a look with Scott, an unspoken understanding between them. They saw it too—the way Logan held her, the way he softened just a fraction when she looked at him. This wasn’t just about finding the baby’s family anymore. Something had shifted.

Logan glanced back at the baby one last time before nodding toward the jet. “Alright,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Let’s take her back. The Professor will figure somethin’ out.”

Logan stepped onto the Blackbird, the weight in his arms felt heavier than it should’ve. The baby had settled back into his chest. Her steady breathing was the only sound cutting through the distant echoes of the chaos they had left behind in the village.

But Logan’s thoughts weren’t on the charred ruins or even on the anti-mutant group they had been sent to stop. His mind was spiraling—back to you, back to the loss you had both endured, back to the raw, untended wound that still lingered between you.

What if this baby—so fragile, so small—triggered those memories for you? What if taking her back to the mansion opened up wounds you were still healing from?

Logan’s jaw tightened, his usual resolve cracking under the weight of his thoughts. He wasn’t sure he could take seeing that look in your eyes again—the same look you’d had when you sobbed in his arms after the miscarriage. The memory hit him like a punch to the gut, and he instinctively held the baby a little closer, as if shielding her from his fears.

“Logan,” Scott’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. He was standing near the cockpit, his expression unreadable but pointed. “You coming or are you planning to stay out there?”

Logan grunted in response, moving to take a seat near the back of the jet. He avoided Scott’s gaze, focusing instead on the baby in his arms as she stirred slightly. He muttered something low, soothing, and she settled again, her tiny face pressing against his chest.

Scott didn’t move. Instead, he crossed his arms and leaned slightly against the edge of the cockpit door, watching Logan for a moment longer than Logan was comfortable with.

“What?” Logan finally snapped, his voice low but tinged with frustration.

Scott raised an eyebrow, then pushed off the door and walked closer, his movements slow and deliberate. “You’re worried,” he said simply, his tone unusually neutral.

Logan scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t get worried, Summers.”

“Right,” Scott said dryly, taking a seat across from him. “And yet, you’re holding that baby like the world’s about to come for her any second.”

Logan’s grip instinctively tightened, his knuckles going white against the edge of the blanket. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he muttered, though the edge in his voice betrayed him.

Scott’s gaze softened, surprising Logan enough to look up. “It’s okay, you know,” Scott said quietly. “To care. To worry. It doesn’t make you weak, Logan.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, his hazel eyes narrowing as he tried to deflect. “You sound like Chuck now. I don’t need a lecture, Summers.”

Scott leaned back, his arms crossing loosely. “I’m not giving you a lecture. I’m just saying… I’ve been there.”

Logan’s brows furrowed, his confusion clear even through his gruff exterior.

“With Nathan,” Scott continued, his voice lower now. “When Jean and I were expecting him… I was terrified. I didn’t think I’d be enough for him, for her. After we lost the first one…” He paused, swallowing hard as his usually stoic mask cracked just slightly. “I thought the grief would break us. But it didn’t. We were okay. Eventually.”

Logan’s throat tightened. He looked down at the baby, who was now peacefully dozing against him. “What if she’s not okay?” he asked finally, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. “What if we’re not?”

Scott’s expression softened further. “You and I both know you’re tougher than that, Logan. And so is she. You’ve been through hell and back, and you’re still here. You’ll make it work.”

Logan’s gaze flicked up to meet Scott’s, a rare moment of unspoken understanding passing between them. Scott’s words didn’t fix the knot of fear twisting in his chest, but they helped loosen it—just enough to breathe.

With a quiet grunt, Logan looked down at the baby, his thumb brushing lightly against her tiny fist. “She stopped crying the second I picked her up,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Like she knew…”

Scott nodded slowly. “Maybe she does.”

Logan didn’t respond, his thoughts already drifting back to you. He could picture your face, the way your eyes lit up when you smiled, the warmth you brought into his life without even trying. He couldn’t shake the worry that bringing this baby home would remind you of what you’d lost. But deep down, there was a small, fragile hope—a flicker of light in the darkness—that this could also be something new. Something healing. Something for both of you to hold onto.

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair before meeting Scott’s gaze again. “You better not tell anyone about this conversation.”

Scott smirked faintly, his usual smugness tempered by something softer. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As the Blackbird took off, Logan sat quietly, the baby cradled against his chest. He didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time in months, he was willing to hope. When the mansion came into view, he tightened his hold on the baby, his resolve hardening.

Whatever came next, he’d face it—with you by his side. Because if this little girl was meant to find him then maybe she was meant to find both of you.

𓂃

Once inside the mansion, the tension in Logan’s chest seemed to grow heavier, the walls of the grand space pressing in on him as he cradled the tiny baby against his chest. Scott, Ororo and he stood in the living room, the warmth of the fire in the nearby hearth doing little to ease the weight of the moment.

Jean entered moments later, little Nathan trailing behind her with his usual boundless energy. Her steps faltered slightly when her gaze landed on the baby nestled in Logan’s arms, her expression shifting from surprise to a tender understanding.

“We found her abandoned,” Scott explained, scooping Nathan into his arms when the boy tried to dart toward Logan and the baby, clearly curious. Nathan giggled, squirming in his father’s grasp, oblivious to the tension in the room.

Jean’s eyes softened as they flicked between Logan and the baby, her voice gentle. “She must be hungry. I have some formula left upstairs. I’ll go prepare a bottle.”

Logan gave her a quick nod of thanks, though his eyes never left the baby. As Jean disappeared up the stairs, Ororo stepped closer, her gaze calm and reassuring. “Logan, you need to go talk to her,” Ororo said softly, her hands reaching out to take the baby from his arms.

Logan’s grip instinctively tightened for just a second before he forced himself to let go, his jaw clenching. The baby squirmed as Ororo carefully cradled her, a small cry already forming on her lips. Logan winced at the sound, his protective instincts kicking in again, but Ororo gave him a pointed look. “The baby will be fine, Logan. Go.”

He hesitated, his boots rooted to the floor, but finally nodded, running a hand through his hair before turning toward the hallway that led to your shared room. Each step felt heavier than the last, his mind racing. What if you couldn’t handle this? What if it brought back everything you’d been trying so hard to move past? The thought of hurting you again made his chest tighten.

When he reached the door to your room, Logan paused, his hand resting on the doorknob as if it weighed a thousand pounds. With a deep breath, he finally stepped inside.

You were sitting at your desk, fingers flying over your keyboard, a mess of papers scattered around you. The faint glow from your laptop illuminated your face, and despite the chaos of the workspace, Logan couldn’t help but feel a flicker of calm at the sight of you.

Your eyes darted up when you heard him, a teasing smile spreading across your lips as you stood. “I was wondering when you’d get back. Started to worry,” you joked, walking over to him. You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before pulling back, your hands brushing his arms. “And look at that, you made it back in one piece.”

Logan’s lips quirked into a faint smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. The usual gruff confidence you knew so well had been replaced by something uncertain. The shift in his demeanor made your smile fade as you studied him.

“What’s wrong?” you asked gently, your tone laced with concern as you searched his face for an answer.

Logan let out a slow breath, pulling a hand free to rub the back of his neck. “We… found somethin’—someone—on the mission,” he began, his voice low and steady. “A baby. She was abandoned in one of the cabins. There was no sign of her parents… no one claimed her.”

Your heart sank at his words, your body teasing. “A baby?” you whispered.

He nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting yours again. “I didn’t know what to do, so we brought her back here. She… she’s just a baby, sweetheart. Tiny. Fragile.” His voice wavered slightly, and he took a step closer to you. “When I picked her up, she stopped cryin’. Like she… trusted me or somethin’. I don’t know. It messed with my head.”

Your chest tightened as you watched him, his usual gruff demeanor softened. “Logan…”

He held up a hand, cutting you off gently. “Look, I don’t want to push anything on you. I don’t want you to think I’m hopin’ for somethin’ or tryin’ to replace what we lost. That ain’t it. I just…” He trailed off, his gaze flicking to the door as if he could still hear the baby’s faint cries. “I needed to tell you. I needed you to know. But if this is too much—if you don’t wanna see her—I’ll understand.”

The room was filled with silence, the weight of his words settling between you. You felt a storm of emotions swirling inside you—grief, confusion, a flicker of something you didn’t dare name yet. “I don’t know, Logan,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I don’t know if I can handle it. What if…” You couldn’t finish the sentence, your throat tightening.

“You’re stronger than you think, darlin’,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “And I’m not gonna let you go through this alone. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together. But you need to see her. Just… see her. That’s all I’m askin’.”

You searched his eyes, seeing the quiet plea there, the vulnerability he rarely let show. Finally, you nodded, your voice barely audible. “Okay.”

Logan’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he gave your hands a gentle squeeze. “She’s with Ororo,” he said, his voice steadier now. “She’s… somethin’ else. I think you’ll see what I mean.”

Logan took your hand, his grip firm but tender, as you both descended the stairs. The silence between you was heavy with unspoken thoughts. You couldn’t ignore the flicker of uncertainty stirring in your chest. This was just a baby, you reminded yourself, but the way Logan talked and acted… it felt like something more, something that scared you. What if this was just another path to disappointment? What if the cracks in your heart grew deeper with hope that led nowhere?

Logan glanced at you, his hazel eyes soft, but they carried their own storm. You couldn’t tell who he was trying to reassure more—himself or you. The way he held your hand told you he was wrestling with the same doubts, the same fears.

When you entered the living room, the sight hit you like a wave. Jean sat on the couch, cradling the baby girl in her arms as she gently fed her a bottle. Nathan sat beside her, his wide, curious eyes fixated on the infant. The scene was warm, peaceful even, but it stirred something deep within you.

Jean looked up as you walked in, offering a soft, warm smile. "She’s doing better now," she said, her voice quiet, as if not to disturb the fragile calm. "She’s not crying anymore."

Logan’s presence shifted, his protectiveness already kicking in as he moved closer. “She was screaming her head off earlier,” he said, his voice gruff but lined with tenderness. His eyes were locked on the baby as though she were the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

Jean chuckled, adjusting the bottle in the baby’s mouth. "She was until I gave her this," she said, glancing down at the little girl with a fond expression. Then she looked back at Logan, her smile fading slightly, replaced by something deeper. “But I can sense something else. She… wants you, Logan.”

Jean stood, moving to hand the baby to him, but Logan hesitated, his eyes darting to you like he needed your permission. You froze, your breath catching in your throat as your gaze locked onto the baby. There was something about her, something undeniable. You told yourself it was just your mind playing tricks, your heart reaching for something it shouldn’t, but you couldn’t ignore the pull in your chest.

She looked… familiar, even though that was impossible. Her tiny face, soft and full of innocence, and her dark, thick hair—what little there was of it—felt like it belonged. Your throat tightened, and you weren’t sure if it was wonder or fear threatening to choke you.

“Sweetheart…” Logan’s voice broke through your daze, gentle but urging. He had crossed the room to stand in front of you, his body close enough to shield you from everything else. His hazel eyes searched yours, and for a moment, it felt like the two of you were standing on the edge of something monumental.

You slowly nodded and Logan reached out to take the baby from Jean. The moment his hands settled on her tiny frame, she stopped suckling on the bottle and looked up at him. Her wide, bright eyes blinked at Logan, and he swore his heart skipped a beat. They were strikingly similar to his own—soft hazel, framed with a kind of quiet wonder. He tried to convince himself it was just his mind playing tricks on him, a cruel echo of the past, but the connection he felt at that moment was undeniable.

“She looks at you like she already knows you,” Jean said softly, a faint smile on her lips. Her words carried a weight that sent a shiver down your spine.

Logan shifted his hold on the baby, his rough fingers brushing against her tiny hand. “I don’t—” He stopped himself, his voice cracking slightly. He glanced at you again, his vulnerability laid bare. "I don’t know what this is, but it feels… different.”

Jean cleared her throat, her expression shifting into something serious. “There’s something else,” she said, looking between the two of you. “I didn’t want to say anything earlier because I wasn’t sure, but… I’m picking up on something from her mind.”

You blinked, snapping out of your daze. “What do you mean?”

Jean’s gaze softened. “She’s a mutant,” she said gently. “It’s subtle, but it’s there. Her power—it’s healing. When she feels connected to someone, she can heal minor injuries. Cuts, bruises… even small aches.”

You stared at her, the words hitting you like a weight in your chest. Logan’s arms instinctively tightened around the baby, as if he were shielding her from a world that might hurt her. He looked down at the little girl, his thumb brushing gently against her tiny fist.

Healing. It was such a simple, beautiful gift. One that only deepened the pull you felt toward her. Your mind reeled, but somewhere beneath the chaos was a quiet, steady feeling that this—her—was meant to be.

Jean’s voice softened even more. “It happens unintentionally. She doesn’t control it yet, but… she just healed a scratch on Nathan’s arm. I think she’s been trying to connect with you, Logan.”

Logan swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he turned to you. His hazel eyes, filled with emotion, searched yours. “Do you… do you want to hold her?” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly.

You hesitated, your eyes flicking down to the baby nestled in Logan’s arms. She looked so tiny, so innocent, and yet the thought of holding her felt right. Slowly, you nodded, stepping closer.

Logan shifted carefully, cradling her as though she were made of glass before gently placing her into your waiting arms. The weight of her against you was lighter than you expected, yet it felt so significant, like holding something precious that could change everything. You looked down at her tiny face, her round cheeks flushed as her eyes fluttered open. For a brief moment, her gaze darted between Logan and you, her bright hazel eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“She’s so precious,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you adjusted her against your chest. You held her cautiously, almost afraid to move, worried that any wrong gesture would disturb her fragile peace. Your heart hammered in your chest as you braced for her to cry or squirm.

But she didn’t.

Instead, her tiny hand moved from where it had rested near the bottle, her delicate fingers brushing against your shirt before gripping it with surprising strength. You froze, tears welling in your eyes as you felt her warmth against you. Her tiny lips curved into the faintest smile, and you swore it felt like your chest cracked open, all your reservations melting into the air.

“She must like you,” Logan said softly. He stepped closer, his hand brushing over your back as if grounding you both. “Because she wouldn’t even let Scott hold her.”

You let out a shaky laugh, a single sob escaping your lips as you looked down at her. “She’s perfect,” you whispered, cradling her closer. Her tiny fist tugged at your shirt again, and something about her touch sent warmth through you that was hard to describe—comforting, but also terrifying.

Logan reached out, his large, rough hand gently brushing against the baby’s cheek. She cooed softly, leaning into his touch before looking back at you. “See?” he said, his voice tinged with awe. “She’s trying to connect with you now.”

You didn’t respond, unsure of what to say. The weight of it all—the connection she seemed to have with both of you, the impossibility of the situation—felt overwhelming. You wanted to believe this was meant to be, but a flicker of fear lingered in your chest, whispering warnings of heartbreak and loss.

Before you could speak, footsteps approached, and Ororo and Scott entered the room. Ororo’s gaze softened the moment she saw the baby nestled in your arms, while Scott frowned slightly, his eyes flicking between you and Logan.

“What’s going on here?” Scott asked, crossing his arms as he studied the scene.

“She’s… connecting with them,” Jean explained gently, stepping aside to give them a better view. “I think there’s something more to this. She’s a mutant, and she’s already started to bond with Logan and… her.” Jean nodded toward you with a small smile.

Ororo stepped closer, her eyes warm as she looked at the baby. “She seems so at peace with both of you,” she remarked, her voice soft. “It’s like she knows.”

Logan reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as if to steady himself. “She won’t even let anyone else hold her,” he said, his tone a mix of pride and protectiveness. “It’s like… she chose us.”

Scott’s frown deepened, though there was no malice in his expression—only concern. “Look, I get it,” he said, his voice measured. “She’s a baby, and it’s easy to get attached. But you two need to be realistic. We don’t know anything about her parents, where she came from, or even why she was abandoned. This… this could get complicated.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, and you felt the tension in his grip. He was seconds away from snapping back, but before he could, Ororo placed a hand on Scott’s arm. “Scott,” she said gently, “just look at them.”

Scott’s eyes softened slightly as he glanced between you and Logan, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of understanding cross his face. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m just saying… talk to the Professor first. Make sure this is something you both really want to pursue.”

You nodded, glancing down at the baby as she let out a soft coo. “We will,” you said quietly. “But… it’s hard to explain. It feels like she was meant to find us.”

Scott met Logan’s gaze, his expression shifting into something more sincere. “If this is what you both want, then… I hope it works out. Just don’t rush into it, okay?”

Logan nodded reluctantly, his protective instincts still flaring, but he squeezed your hand for reassurance.

Ororo and Scott stepped back, giving you both some space as the baby let out a soft yawn, her tiny hand still gripping your shirt. Logan leaned in, brushing a gentle kiss against your temple. “She already loves you,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe.

You looked up at him, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Logan," you whispered, your voice trembling. "Scott’s right. We can’t just rush into this. We don’t even know if her parents are alive or—" Your words faltered, catching in your throat as the weight of the uncertainty pressed down on you.

Logan held your gaze, the flicker of emotion in his hazel eyes betraying the composed mask he was trying to maintain. He reached out, his rough hand gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I know,” he said softly. “I’m not sayin’ we just take her and call it a day. I just… I need to know. I need to be sure.”

You bit your lip, glancing down at the baby nestled in your arms. Her little chest rose and fell peacefully as she slept. The sight tugged at your heart, and yet, the weight of responsibility gnawed at the edges of your mind. You couldn’t let emotion cloud the bigger picture, no matter how much a part of you already felt tethered to her.

“Alright,” you finally murmured. “Let’s talk to the Professor.”

Logan nodded, his jaw tightening as if bracing himself for what was to come. He placed his hand lightly on your lower back, guiding you toward Xavier’s office. Every step felt heavier than the last as if the weight of the decision ahead pressed harder with each passing moment. Logan remained quiet, his usual gruffness replaced by an uncharacteristic tenderness, his hand never leaving your back.

When you reached the Professor’s office, Logan knocked once before pushing the door open. Xavier was already waiting, his hands folded in his lap, his expression calm yet curious. His gaze softened the moment he noticed the baby in your arms.

“I was wondering when you’d come to see me about the baby,” Xavier said, his voice soothing.

Logan furrowed his brow, his grip on your back tightening slightly. “You already know?” he asked.

Xavier gave a small smile, tilting his head slightly. “You can’t bring something so… profound into this mansion without me sensing it. Please, sit.”

You and Logan exchanged a glance before settling into the chairs in front of Xavier’s desk. The baby stirred slightly in your arms but didn’t wake. Logan leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together.

“We found her during the mission,” Logan began, his voice low but steady. “She was alone in a cabin. No sign of her parents, no one claimin’ her. Jean says she’s a mutant. She’s got some kind of… healing ability.”

Xavier’s eyes flickered with interest as he leaned forward slightly. “Healing, you say?”

Logan nodded, his jaw tightening. “She’s connected to us. She won’t let anyone else hold her without cryin’. It’s like…” He trailed off, struggling to put the inexplicable connection into words.

“Like she’s meant to be with you,” Xavier finished softly, his gaze shifting to you.

You swallowed hard, the knot in your chest tightening. “We just… we need to know if her parents are out there. If they’re alive. We can’t—” Your voice broke slightly, and Logan’s hand found yours, his thumb brushing soothing circles over your knuckles. “We can’t just assume it’s up to us.”

Xavier regarded you both for a long moment before nodding. “Of course. If her parents are still out there, it’s only right to find them. But to do so, I’ll need to delve into her mind, to see if there’s anything she remembers—even subconsciously.”

Logan tensed beside you, his protective instincts flaring. “Is that safe for her?” he asked, his tone edged with worry.

Xavier gave a reassuring smile. “It won’t harm her. I’ll only be looking for surface-level memories, nothing invasive.”

You hesitated before finally nodding. “Alright. If it helps us figure out where she belongs… do it.”

Xavier wheeled closer, his calm presence filling the room. He reached out gently, his fingers just brushing the baby’s forehead. For a moment, the room was silent, the air heavy with anticipation. Logan’s hand tightened around yours, his tension palpable as he watched the Professor.

Finally, Xavier’s eyes fluttered open, a mixture of emotions crossing his face. “Her parents…” he began, his voice tinged with sadness. “They called her Laura.”

You felt your breath catch, the name settling in your chest like a quiet weight. “Laura,” you whispered, looking down at the baby in your arms. It felt right as if the name had always lingered in your mind.

Logan’s jaw clenched, his protective instinct only growing stronger. “What happened to them?” he asked, his voice rough.

Xavier hesitated before continuing. “It wasn’t clear, but they were in danger. As you saw, the anti-mutant attackers destroyed their village. They were trying to protect her, keep her safe by hiding her.” He paused, “They…they loved her very much.”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you looked at Logan, his expression a mixture of grief and determination. “So, what now?” you asked quietly.

Xavier straightened slightly. “I’ll use Cerebro to search for any other relatives or connections, but… if there’s no one else, the decision will fall to you.”

Logan’s hand tightened on yours, his hazel eyes meeting yours with an unspoken question. You felt the same pull you’d felt from the moment you held her—a sense that this was more than coincidence. It felt like fate.

𓂃

Logan and you sat side by side on the worn couch, the soft glow of a table lamp casting a warm light across the living room. In the bassinet beside you, Laura slept soundly, her tiny chest rising and falling with each delicate breath. The peaceful silence of the room felt surreal, as though the universe had pressed pause, just for the three of you. Neither of you had left her side since Logan had brought her into the mansion, and despite the chaos of the day, the thought of her being here had begun to settle into something strangely comforting.

You glanced down at your intertwined hands, your thumb idly tracing circles against Logan’s rough, calloused skin. “I–I don’t know how to put this,” you began, hesitating as the words lodged in your throat. You swallowed hard, glancing at Logan. “Is it… weird that I feel like she looks like us?” Your voice was soft, tinged with uncertainty.

Logan turned his head toward you, his hazel eyes catching yours. “It’s not weird,” he murmured. “When I found her, I thought the same thing.” He shifted slightly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “I thought she looked like you—right from the start.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips, but it wavered. “And her eyes,” you whispered, glancing at the bassinet. The baby’s tiny hand had curled into a loose fist, resting against her cheek. “They mirror yours. It’s like… like she’s already part of us.”

Logan exhaled deeply, his free hand running through his hair. “I don’t know how to explain it,” he admitted. “I’ve seen a lot of things in my life, but this… it’s different.” He paused, his gaze shifting to Laura. “When I picked her up, it was like somethin’ in me just… clicked. Like I had to protect her. Like I couldn’t walk away, even if I tried.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder, your fingers squeezing his hand. “It feels so strange, doesn’t it? Like we’re meant to have her here but at the same time… I don’t want to let myself hope too much. What if it’s not meant to be?”

Logan tilted his head down, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. “I get it,” he murmured. “I don’t want to get ahead of myself either. But…” He hesitated, his voice faltering for a moment before he continued. “She’s here now. And she’s safe. That’s what matters.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but they weren’t entirely from sadness. “It’s comforting, isn’t it?” you said softly. “Like maybe… maybe this is how it was supposed to happen. I know it doesn’t make sense, but it feels like she’s already a part of us.”

Logan nodded, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. “It’s scary as hell,” he admitted, his voice raw. “But yeah… it feels right.” His eyes softened as he glanced at the bassinet again, his lips curving into a small tender smile. “She’s already got me wrapped around her little finger.”

You softly laughed, your voice laced with emotion. “She’s got me too,” you whispered, your head still resting against his shoulder.

“There you are,” Xavier’s calm, measured voice broke the silence as he wheeled into the room, his sharp eyes softening as they landed on the bassinet. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I see you’re both smitten by her.”

Logan’s lips twitched into a faint smirk, though the emotions flickering in his hazel eyes betrayed the vulnerability behind them. “Guess you could say that,” he said. He glanced down at the sleeping baby, gently stroking her cheek. “She’s got a way of growin’ on you.”

Xavier nodded knowingly, folding his hands in his lap as his expression grew more serious. “I’ve completed my search using Cerebro,” he began his tone gentle but laced with the weight of what he was about to say. “I… wasn’t able to locate her parents. From what I could glean, it seems they perished in the attack on the village.”

Your breath hitched, your hand instinctively moving to cover your mouth. Logan froze, his jaw tightening as he looked down at Laura, his thumb brushing softly over her small fist. The room seemed to hold its breath.

“There’s more,” Xavier continued, his gaze steady. “I reached out to some of the survivors from the village. They… were hesitant at first, but once they understood she was safe here, they gave their approval for her to remain at the mansion. They believe this is the best place for her.”

A mix of emotions swirled in your chest—grief for the loss of her parents, relief that the villagers had entrusted her to you, and something deeper that felt like fate settling quietly into place.

“She’s really alone, isn’t she?” you whispered, your voice breaking as you looked at Logan.

Logan let out a heavy sigh, his grip on Laura’s tiny hand tightening ever so slightly as though he could shield her from the cruel reality of the world. “Not anymore,” he said firmly, his voice low but resolute. He looked up at Xavier, his gaze fierce. “She’s got us now.”

Your heart swelled at his words, a tear slipping down your cheek as you reached over to squeeze his free hand. “Logan,” you murmured, your voice trembling with emotion. “Are you sure?”

He turned to you, his expression softening as his thumb brushed your knuckles. “I’ve never been more sure of anything, sweetheart,” he said, his voice raw but filled with conviction. “I don’t know why, but… she feels like she’s already ours.”

Xavier watched the two of you quietly, his wise eyes filled with something akin to approval. “Raising a child is no small task,” he said after a moment. “But I see the love and determination in both of you. I have no doubt that Laura will thrive here under your care.”

Logan nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “We’ll do whatever it takes. She deserves a chance—a family.”

“And she’ll have one,” you added, your voice steadier now as you gently placed your hand on Laura’s tiny foot, marveling at how small and fragile she was. “We’ll make sure she’s safe and loved.”

Xavier’s smile returned, a quiet, knowing warmth radiating from him. “Then it’s decided,” he said simply. “Laura will stay here, and she will be raised with the love and care she deserves.”

Logan glanced down at Laura, taking her into his arms. She stirred slightly, her tiny fingers curling around the edge of his flannel shirt. He let out a soft chuckle, his voice a low rumble. “Looks like you’re stuck with us, kid.”

You laughed softly through your tears, leaning your head against Logan’s shoulder as you both gazed down at the baby girl who had already stolen your heart.

𓂃

You had never realized how fast time flew by until a week had blinked by, each day blurring into the next as you and Logan adjusted to life as new parents. Caring for Laura had turned your world upside down in the most beautiful, chaotic way. The first few days had been a scramble—borrowing whatever Jean and Scott had left over from when Nathan was a baby: oversized onesies that swallowed Laura’s tiny frame, an old bassinet, and some hand-me-down bottles. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked… until Logan decided to take matters into his own hands.

One evening, after realizing you were running low on baby supplies, Logan announced with a gruff determination that he was going to the store. You’d laughed at his insistence, thinking he’d return with just the basics. Instead, Logan came back armed like a man ready to conquer fatherhood: bags overflowing with formula, diapers, blankets, and enough baby clothes to fill an entire dresser.

“Logan,” you said, half-laughing as you rifled through one of the sacks, pulling out tiny shoes, a pack of pacifiers, and a set of colorful bibs. “I don’t think we need all of this. Did you leave anything in the store for anyone else?”

He smirked, leaning casually against the kitchen counter as if he hadn’t just wiped out an entire baby aisle. “Figured better safe than sorry, darlin’,” he said, crossing his arms, clearly proud of himself.

You paused when you pulled out a purple onesie with pandas on it. It was so adorable it made your heart squeeze. “Okay,” you murmured, holding it up. “Maybe we did need this one.”

Logan’s smirk softened into a grin, and he pushed off the counter to walk over to you, slipping his arms around your waist and pulling you against his chest. “Knew you’d like that one,” he murmured.

You tilted your head to look up at him, your smile growing as you held up the tiny panda onesie again for emphasis. “You’re such a big softy, you know that? You act all tough, but then you come home with this,” you teased.

Logan smirked, leaning down to press a warm kiss to your temple before resting his head on your shoulder. His arms around your waist felt protective, anchoring you in his steady presence.

“What? No comeback?” you quipped, arching a brow as you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. “Usually, you’d try to deny it. Something about your ‘gruff reputation’ or whatever.”

To your surprise, Logan didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, a small, genuine smile played on his lips as he glanced at the onesie in your hand. “Doesn’t bother me, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Maybe I need to be soft for my girls.”

The simple words hit you like a wave, stirring something deep in your chest. My girls. The way he said it—so natural, so full of love—brought tears to your eyes before you could stop them. You quickly blinked, but Logan wasn’t one to miss much.

“Hey,” he said softly, tilting his head to look up at you, concern flickering in his hazel eyes as his arms tightened slightly around your waist. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, the tears threatening to spill as a soft laugh escaped you. “Nothing,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… hearing you say that.”

“Say what?” he pressed gently, his rough fingers brushing a stray tear from your cheek.

“‘My girls,’” you repeated, the words catching in your throat. “It just… it feels right. I don’t know, Logan. I didn’t think I could feel this happy again. Not after—” You paused, swallowing hard as the weight of everything you’d been through together settled between you.

Logan’s expression softened, and he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing tenderly against your skin. “You deserve to be happy, sweetheart,” he gently said. “We both do. And this… all of this? Feels right to me too.”

You leaned into his touch, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, your hand resting lightly on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I love you,” you whispered, the words carrying every ounce of gratitude and affection you felt for him.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I love you too,” he said, his voice rough but tender.

You both stood there for a moment, wrapped up in each other and the quiet joy of the life you were building together. Nearby, Laura stirred in her bassinet, letting out a tiny, contented coo that made you both glance her way.

Logan chuckled softly, his hand moving to rest over yours on his chest. “Looks like someone’s tryin’ to remind us who’s really in charge around here,” he joked, his tone warm.

You laughed, wiping the last of your tears as you turned to look at Laura. “She’s already got you wrapped around her tiny little finger, doesn’t she?”

“Not just me,” Logan countered, raising a brow. “You’re just as bad.”

“Fair,” you admitted, leaning your head against his shoulder as you gazed at her. “But if being soft means loving her and you with my whole heart, I guess I’m okay with that.”

Laura’s soft cries broke the cozy quiet of the room, causing both you and Logan to freeze mid-conversation. Her tiny whimpers filled the space, and you immediately started to move, but so did Logan.

“I’ll get her,” Logan said gruffly, already reaching toward the bassinet.

“No way!” you countered, grabbing his arm and pulling him back. “It’s my turn. You’ve been hogging her all day, Logan.”

“Hoggin’ her?” Logan repeated, his eyebrows shooting up in mock indignation. The corner of his mouth tugged into that familiar smirk, the one that told you he was about to start trouble. “Darlin’, I’m just better at keepin’ her calm. You know it.”

Your jaw dropped as you swatted his arm. “Excuse me? She literally fell asleep on me last night—not you, Mr. ‘Magic Touch.’”

Logan chuckled, a warm, low sound that sent a shiver down your spine even as you glared at him. “I’m just sayin’, sweetheart,” he teased, crossing his arms casually, “She knows who her favorite is.”

“Oh, please,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes at him as Laura’s cries softened into tiny whimpers, her big, round eyes blinking up at the two of you. She lay there, her little fists flailing as if she were judging the both of you for taking too long.

Logan knelt first, his large hands moving instinctively as he reached to scoop her up. “There, sweetie,” he murmured, his voice dipping into that rare softness he reserved for the two of you. Laura stopped whimpering almost instantly, her tiny hand gripping his finger like it was the only thing keeping her from crying.

You couldn’t help but feel your chest tighten at the sight. He looked so at ease with her, holding her close like she was the most precious thing in the world. But you couldn’t resist teasing him.

“Okay, tough guy,” you said, crossing your arms with a playful smirk. “Don’t think I didn’t notice her crying stopped the moment I got closer.”

Logan glanced up at you, his hazel eyes sparkling with amusement. “Is that so?” he rumbled, swaying gently as Laura let out a tiny coo. “’Cause from where I’m standin’, she looks pretty content right here.”

“Uh-huh,” you quipped, stepping closer and reaching out to take her. “Let me see my girl. You’ve had her glued to your chest for hours.”

Logan hesitated for a beat, his arms tightening ever so slightly around Laura. “Careful,” he said, his tone laced with a teasing edge. “You don’t have the ‘magic touch,’ remember?”

You rolled your eyes, gently easing Laura into your arms. “Watch and learn, Howlett,” you said, cradling her against your chest. She snuggled into you without protest, her little face scrunching up before settling into calm contentment. “See? I’ve got the magic touch and the magic cuddle.”

Logan let out a mock scoff, standing back up to his full height as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Alright, alright,” he muttered, though the faint grin tugging at his lips betrayed him. “Guess I’ll let you have this one.”

“You’re too kind,” you teased, swaying gently as Laura’s eyelids fluttered shut again. “But don’t think I didn’t see you hesitate.”

Logan smirked, his hazel eyes warm as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and full of affection. “I still love you.”

Your heart swelled as Laura nuzzled closer against you, her tiny hand gripping the fabric of your shirt. Logan’s hand came to rest at the small of your back, his thumb brushing slow, soothing circles.

“I think we’re doin’ alright at this parenting thing,” he murmured, his forehead resting against the side of your head.

“Yeah,” you whispered, looking down at the peaceful bundle in your arms. “We’ve got this, Logan.”

Logan let out a soft chuckle, his eyes fixed on you and Laura with a tender expression. “Damn right we do,” he agreed.

𓂃

Later that night, the two of you sat on the floor of your bedroom, surrounded by scattered pieces of what was supposed to be a crib. The instruction manual lay open between you, creased and smudged, as though it had endured as much frustration as the two of you.

“I’m telling you, this piece goes here,” you said, holding up one of the wooden slats with the confidence of someone who had been wrong twice already.

Logan scoffed, squinting at the manual like it was written in another language. “Darlin’, that ain’t even close to the right piece. Look at the damn diagram.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes. “Logan, I know how to read a diagram. You’re the one who started screwing things in backward.”

“That was one time,” he grumbled, reaching for the screwdriver as if it might magically fix his earlier mistake.

“One time too many,” you shot back, smirking as you handed him the correct piece. “Face it—you’re not as handy as you think you are.”

Logan’s brow furrowed, and he shot you a mock glare, his lips twitching with the faintest hint of a smile. “Keep talkin’, sweetheart. We’ll see who’s laughin’ when this crib doesn’t collapse under her.” He paused, muttering under his breath. “Should’ve just built one from scratch with my own hands.”

“Oh sure,” you quipped, biting back a laugh as you imagined it. “Laura might be in college by the time you finish it.”

Logan shook his head, exhaling sharply through his nose like he was trying to keep from laughing. But the small smirk tugging at his lips gave him away. “Real funny. Keep it up, and I’ll make you do the next one solo.”

“Next one?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Let’s survive this one first.”

Finally, after an hour and a half of bickering, laughter, and a few colorful mutterings from Logan, the crib stood fully assembled. The two of you stepped back to admire it, a mix of pride and relief washing over you.

Logan slipped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you against his side. You leaned your head against his chest, smiling at the crib. “We did it,” you murmured softly, pride tinging your voice.

“Damn right we did,” Logan replied, his voice warm and a little smug. “Told ya I could build it.”

You tilted your head up at him, smirking. “Sure, tough guy. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Before Logan could fire back with another quip, Laura let out a soft whimper from the makeshift bassinet you’d borrowed from Jean. Logan immediately moved to scoop her up, cradling her against his chest. She blinked at him, her little face scrunching for a moment, and then… she smiled.

Your breath hitched. “Did she just—”

Logan’s eyes softened as he stared down at her, his tough exterior cracking completely. “Yeah… she did,” he murmured, his voice almost reverent.

You stepped closer, wrapping your arm around Logan as you both gazed at Laura. Her tiny hand reached out, her fingers brushing against yours. “She likes the crib,” you whispered with a laugh, tears prickling in your eyes.

“Or maybe she’s just glad we stopped fightin’ over it,” Logan said, his tone teasing but his smile tender.

You leaned into him, your heart swelling with love for the little family you were building. “Either way,” you said softly, “this is perfect.”

Logan kissed the top of Laura’s head and then yours, his voice low and steady. “Yeah… it is.”

𓂃

“Mrs. Howlett!” one of your students practically yelled, her voice cutting through the quiet hum of the classroom. You paused mid-sentence, marker hovering over the whiteboard, and turned around, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, Sarah?” you asked, fighting the urge to smile as Laura, strapped to your chest in a carrier, let out a tiny coo. Her big, curious eyes darted over the room full of students, clearly more interested in them than the lesson you were trying to teach.

“Do you have to keep teaching? Me and Jamie really want to hold Laura. Pleeeease?” Sarah begged, her hands clasped together in an exaggerated show of desperation. She even threw in puppy-dog eyes for good measure, which made you chuckle.

You’d warned Logan about this—the students were bound to be curious, not just about Laura, but about everything. Your sudden shift to "Mrs. Howlett" in the past year had set the rumor mill spinning since you’d decided to stop using your maiden name finally. Now, with a baby in tow, their curiosity had skyrocketed. You didn’t mind it, though. You loved bringing Laura to class, and even more, you loved the way your students doted on her.

Still, you sighed playfully, adjusting the baby carrier as Laura babbled softly. “Sarah, for the last time, you can’t just skip lessons to play with Laura.”

Sarah pouted. “But she’s so cute! How are we supposed to concentrate when there’s a literal baby here?”

“How about this,” you said, gesturing toward the question box sitting precariously on your desk, already overflowing with tiny pieces of paper. “You put all your burning questions in the box. At the end of class, I’ll pick four to answer.”

“Mrs. Howlett!” groaned Fiona, a redheaded girl who always managed to speak her mind. “No offense, but you barely ever answer the good ones. Last time, you skipped like ten!”

You bit back a laugh, pretending to be affronted. “I answer plenty! Sometimes your questions are…well, very personal.” You gave a mock glare at the question box, knowing full well there were probably a dozen slips in there asking about your marriage to Logan. Or his claws. Or why he rarely smiled in photos.

Laura let out another soft coo, her tiny hands reaching for nothing in particular. You glanced down at her and smiled. “What do you think, Laura? Should we humor them?”

As if on cue, Laura smiled, her little nose scrunching up in a way that melted your heart. The class collectively “aww’d,” which made you laugh.

“Alright, fine!” you relented, walking to the front of your desk and leaning against it. “Just this once, I’ll answer some questions. But let’s make it quick, okay?”

Hands shot up across the room like fireworks. You scanned the sea of excited faces and pointed to Sarah, whose arm flailed the hardest. “Alright, Sarah. What’s your question?”

Sarah’s face lit up as she glanced between you and Laura. “So…where did Laura come from? I mean, I didn’t see you pregnant or anything.”

The room fell quiet, everyone leaning in, clearly hanging on your answer. You smiled softly, glancing down at Laura before meeting their curious gazes. “Well, Mr. Howlett and I…adopted her. She needed a home, much like some of you did when you first came to the mansion.”

The room was still for a beat, the weight of your words sinking in, until a voice in the back muttered, “Man, I wish you two had adopted me.”

That sent the whole class into laughter, including you. “Oh, trust me,” you said, grinning as you adjusted Laura in her carrier. “Taking care of Mr. Howlett and Laura is already a full-time job.”

“Do you call him ‘Mr. Howlett’ at home?” someone else chimed in, causing a wave of giggles to ripple through the room.

“Absolutely not,” you said with mock horror. “I call him Logan. Or ‘tough guy.’ Or, if he’s being grumpy, ‘big softy.’”

“Grumpy?” Fiona raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Yeah, that checks out.”

“Alright, alright,” you said, laughing as the teasing spiraled. “One more question, and then it’s back to the lesson.”

Another hand shot up, and this time it was Jamie. “Does Mr. Howlett ever hold Laura? Like, is he actually good with babies?”

You couldn’t help but grin at that. “Oh, he’s amazing with her. You should see him—he sings to her, reads her little books…” You trailed off, your heart swelling as you thought about Logan cradling Laura so carefully in his massive arms, his rough hands handling her with a tenderness that never failed to take your breath away.

“Whoa,” Jamie said, clearly stunned. “Mr. Howlett? Singing? That’s…hard to imagine.”

“It’s true!” you said with a laugh. “But don’t tell him I told you. He likes to keep up his ‘tough guy’ image.”

The class dissolved into laughter again, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful for their lightheartedness. For a moment, the weight of everything you and Logan had been through felt a little lighter.

“Alright, enough questions,” you said, clapping your hands. “Let’s get back to—”

Before you could finish, the door to the classroom creaked open, and there stood Logan, his towering frame taking up the doorway, an eyebrow raised as he looked around. Laura perked up immediately, letting out an excited babble.

“Doesn’t sound like anyone is learning in here. All I heard was laughter echoing down the hall,” Logan said in his usual gruff tone, his voice cutting through the chatter as he leaned against the doorframe. The slight twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away, softening the impact of his words.

“She’s teaching us about Laura!” Sarah defended immediately, her hands thrown in the air like she’d been caught red-handed.

Logan raised a skeptical brow, his arms crossing over his broad chest as he stepped into the classroom. “Yeah? Sounds more like you’re all just nosy.”

The room erupted in laughter, a mix of guilty chuckles and unapologetic grins. Logan made his way to you, his hand finding its way to the small of your back. Laura let out an excited coo from her carrier, tiny hands reaching in the direction of Logan’s voice.

“Alright, which one of you’s been askin’ all the embarrassing questions?” he asked, his gravelly voice layered with mock annoyance, though his hazel eyes gleamed with amusement.

Fiona immediately pointed to Sarah, who gasped in betrayal. “Hey! Everyone’s been asking questions!”

“It’s true,” you admitted with a smirk, leaning slightly into Logan’s side. “You walked in just in time for the chaos.”

“Chaos?” Logan repeated, his lips quirking into a grin as he glanced down at you. “Darlin’ sounds like you’ve lost control of your classroom.”

You nudged him with your elbow, grinning. “I wouldn’t say that. I just know when to pick my battles.”

“She means she gave up,” Sarah chimed in, earning another round of laughter from the class.

Logan snorted, shaking his head. “Sounds about right.” He looked down at Laura, still squirming in her carrier, her little hands stretching toward him. “Alright, kid, what’s all this fuss about?”

“She likes you better,” Fiona blurted out, earning a chorus of agreement from her classmates.

You rolled your eyes, unbuckling the carrier and gently lifting Laura out. “Don’t inflate his ego anymore, guys. It’s already big enough.”

Logan raised a brow, his hands automatically reaching for Laura as you passed her over. She settled into his arms instantly, letting out a contented little sigh that made the entire class melt into a collective “aww.”

“She’s got good taste,” Logan said with a smirk, adjusting her in his arms like a pro. “She knows who the favorite parent is.”

You gasped in mock outrage, placing a hand on your chest. “Excuse me? I’m the one who feeds her and rocks her to sleep at 3 a.m., mister.”

“And I’m the one who changes her diapers,” Logan countered, earning a groan from the students.

“Too much information!” Jamie called from the back, covering his ears dramatically.

Logan chuckled, his rough voice softening as he glanced down at Laura. “Fine, fine. What other questions do you kids have? Let’s get this over with.”

The room practically vibrated with excitement as hands shot into the air. You stifled a laugh, folding your arms as you watched Logan dive into the chaos he claimed to avoid.

“Okay, you,” he said, pointing to Sarah with his free hand. “What’s your question?”

Sarah hesitated for a moment, clearly giddy about being chosen. “Um… is it true you guys are married? Like, actually married?”

Logan raised a brow, glancing over at you. “You wanna take this one, sweetheart?”

You grinned, stepping closer to him. “Yes, Sarah. We’re actually married. It’s not a rumor.”

“Is it weird being married to Mr. Howlett?” Jamie chimed in, clearly emboldened by Sarah’s question.

“Not weird,” you replied with a teasing smile. “But it’s definitely… an adventure.”

“An adventure?” Logan repeated, mock-offended. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrugged playfully. “Oh, you know… trying to figure out how to live with someone who’s so grumpy all the time.”

The class erupted into laughter, and Logan shook his head, a faint grin tugging at his lips. “Yeah, well, try livin’ with someone who steals all the covers.”

“Oh my God, Mrs. Howlett, you do that?!” Fiona gasped, clearly scandalized.

“Allegedly,” you said with a laugh. “Next question!”

“Does Laura have powers?” Jamie asked, his tone more curious this time.

Logan glanced down at Laura, his expression softening. “She’s a little young to tell, but… yeah, she’s got somethin’ special.” He looked at you for permission before continuing. “She’s got a gift for healing. Helps with small cuts and bruises, but it’s not somethin’ she controls yet.”

The students murmured among themselves, clearly intrigued.

“So… she’s like a mini-Wolverine?” Jamie asked, grinning.

“More like a mini-angel,” you corrected, smiling as Logan gave you a knowing look.

“Alright, kids,” Logan said, shifting Laura in his arms. “That’s enough questions for today. Let your teacher get back to whatever it was she was supposed to be teachin’.”

The students groaned in protest, but you clapped your hands. “You heard him! Back to work. Logan, you wanna stick around and help teach?”

Logan smirked, already heading for the door with Laura nestled against his chest. “Nah, I’ll leave the teachin’ to you, darlin’. I got my hands full.”

With that, he was gone, leaving you with a classroom full of students buzzing with excitement—and your own heart full of warmth.

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dawsonskyelar · 2 days ago

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Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Sebastian’s happy to be anywhere or do anything as long as he’s with Nick and he can listen to him ranting about whatever. Nick, however, loves to take Sebastian out to eat.

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Both of them love that the other accepts them. Sebastian loves Nick’s joy and Nick loves Sebastian’s intelligence.

Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Sebastian barely knows how to take care of his own needs so he panics when Nick has a bad day. Nick tries to give Sebastian gifts, mostly food, and tells jokes and stories.

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Both of them dream about sharing the same space with each other until the end of time.

Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

In the beginning of their relationship Sebastian has to order Nick to clean up after himself. However, after a certain incident, they agree to divide the chores between them and Sebastian leaves Nick’s room alone.

Fight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Their arguments are loud and explosive. Both use slurs and try to use the other’s worst trait against them. Nick forgets what they’re even fighting about the next day, but Sebastian, with his excellent memory, will hold a grudge for months.

Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Nick is so so so happy that Sebastian has chosen him as his partner after yearning for him for years. Sebastian, on the other hand, constantly thinks that Nick will leave him any second.

Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Both Nick and Sebastian decided to not reveal their pasts to each other when they first moved in together. Over the course of the trilogy they learn to not hide anything since that will only lead to heartache.

Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Sebastian learns to be less judgemental and Nick learns to be more organised.

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Sebastian’s entire reason for biphobia is because he gets jealous of Nick picking anyone and everyone to be his sexual partner instead of him. Nick wouldn’t be happy about giving Sebastian up but he’d do it if it meant Sebastian would be happy.

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Because Nick had a lot of sexual partners, he has a lot of experience. Sebastian cums at their first proper kiss because Nick’s technique made him feel so good.

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

In an ideal environment? They’d never admit their feelings because they both believe the other’s too good for them.

Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Sometimes Sebastian dreams of Nick being mad enough to agree to be his spouse. Nick would ask the question randomly like he’s talking about the weather. Everything becomes more intense – the fights, the sex, the gifts. Nick would send Sebastian a shitton of romance memes in addition to the normal ones that causes the latter’s phone to overheat.

Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

Nick sometimes calls Sebastian ‘Sebster’ and Sebastian will call Nick by his full name if he’s mad.

On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

They have such googly eyes for each other that Nick’s coworkers had a bet on whether he and Sebastian would end up together eventually.

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Nick brags about how lucky he is to have the hottest, smartest, funniest person in all the dimensions as his boyfriend/husband. Sebastian doesn’t like people prying into his private life. He gets flattered but also annoyed when Nick kisses him in public.

Quirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Sebastian’s photographic memory saves them a lot of time because he writes stuff down that he needs to remember in his bullet journal.

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Nick gives Sebastian lots of material gifts – at first it was the typical ones like flowers, but they get interspersed with useful ones. Sebastian just gives Nick food he knows Nick likes – ice cream, candy, cake, etc – in small amounts.

Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Sebastian doesn’t pursue hobbies in the beginning because he believes he doesn’t have time nor money for them. This is why he doesn’t like Nick drawing as a hobby at first. As time goes on, however, he tells Nick he can buy a drawing tablet if he wants and even volunteers to come with him to get it. Nick, in a reversal of roles in the third book, is aghast that Sebastian wants to write about his experiences in moving dimensions but of course supports Sebastian any way he can.

Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Sebastian’s first love affair is routine so he doesn’t like change. Nick has to hold off on trying new things to not put Sebastian on edge.

Understanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

They have contrasting personalities so sometimes it’s hard for them to empathise with each other but they always get resolved in the end.

Value - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

They define themselves by their relationship. They’re unhealthily co-dependent for affection and think nothing means anything if they didn’t have the other’s approval.

Wild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Nick remembers to run an errand that Sebastian forgot and receives Sebastian being more active in bed than

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Nick is a very touchy-feely person. He’ll touch Sebastian anywhere and everywhere; Sebastian hates it at first because physical touch gives him the heebie-jeebies but slowly he learns to tolerate it.

Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

They have no need to be apart for very long because they live together. Sebastian will dwell on Nick so much that he fucks up whatever he’s doing. Meanwhile Nick will look for something to buy to make Sebastian smile.

Zeal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

They’re both willing to let people die in the destruction of the dimensions as long as the other didn’t find out about his feelings. And once they’re together, Nick proclaims he’ll do anything as long as Sebastian stays in his life.

Fluff Alphabet!

Inspired by the NSFW Alphabet by @fairy-tail-babes.

Feel free to use for your own writing Blogs!

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

So: Send me a character and one/several letter(s) and let’s get started!

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bread-crum206 · 3 days ago

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A Game of Hearts

Chapter eight: Cracks in the Armor

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

Pt 1 Pt 2 P t 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12

The day that followed felt like a delicate balancing act. You and In-ho moved through it like two people walking on tightropes—never quite crossing the line, but always just teetering on the edge of something more. The small moments that had once seemed so insignificant were starting to carry weight. A glance that lingered too long. The sound of his voice, softer than usual when he spoke to you. The way he seemed to watch you when he thought you weren’t looking.

It was these tiny shifts, these tiny changes, that were starting to wear on you. Each second you spent in his presence, you felt like you were learning something new about him, even when he said nothing at all. His mask was always on, and yet, for some reason, you were starting to see past it. Or maybe you were just starting to look harder. Either way, it felt like something was shifting. Something was changing.

But the more time passed, the more you wondered if it was all in your head. Was it real? Did he really feel what you were starting to feel? Or were you simply projecting your own desires, your own confusion, onto him?

The thing was, you couldn’t deny it anymore. There was something. Even if it was just a flicker. A fleeting moment that was too brief to hold on to, but still too strong to ignore.

That morning, you had just finished breakfast. The sound of silverware scraping against your plate echoed through the quiet room as you set it down, the clink of it loud in the otherwise still air. You weren’t in the mood to talk, but you could feel the tension hanging between you and In-ho. It had been there for days—this quiet undercurrent that neither of you had addressed. Something unsaid. Something hanging in the space between you, getting heavier by the minute.

He had walked into the quarters from the sprawling hallways of the complex, his usual mask in place, the slight hum of his footsteps on the polished floor the only noise as he approached. The tablet in his hands was open to some report, something to do with the Games, no doubt. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t looking at you. You weren’t looking at him either, but the silence was suffocating. Every minute felt like it was stretching out in slow motion.

It was unbearable. And you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Why are we doing this?” The words spilled from your mouth before you could stop them. Your voice cracked, breaking the calm like glass shattering underfoot. It wasn’t even a question you had thought through. It was more of a desperate plea for something—clarity, understanding, maybe even a glimpse of the truth behind the mask he wore so rigidly. You didn’t even realize how much emotion was in your voice until it came out.

In-ho’s eyes flicked up from his tablet, his gaze flickering toward you. His jaw tightened, the briefest of flickers passing through his dark eyes, but his expression remained unreadable. “Doing what?”

“Playing this game,” you said, the frustration in your chest leaking into your words. You stood up from the table, pushing your chair back a little harder than necessary. The tension was suffocating, crawling under your skin like ants. “Pretending everything is fine when it’s not. Pretending that this” you gestured between the two of you, “is fine. Pretending that this marriage is fine. That everything in this place is fine, when nothing about it feels real.”

You wanted to take the words back immediately. To shut up. To go back to the cold silence where everything was easy to hide behind. But it was too late. You’d said it, and now it was out there, hanging like a raw nerve between you. The words felt like a release, but they also felt like a mistake. You had no idea what to expect from him.

In-ho was silent. His eyes were still locked on you, but the look in them had shifted, no longer the calculated distance that he usually kept, but something deeper. Something heavier.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. “I just… I can’t keep pretending. Can’t keep going through the motions when it feels like we’re both stuck in a game neither of us wants to play.”

In-ho set the tablet down on the counter, his fingers lingering on the edge for a second before he finally looked up at you. He didn’t speak right away. His expression was distant, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, a recognition. Maybe even a kind of understanding.

“Because we have no other choice,” he said, his voice low and quiet. There was no edge to it, no anger or frustration—just an emptiness. Like he had said it a thousand times before, and maybe he had. The words didn’t sound like an explanation; they sounded like resignation.

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest, frustration and sorrow mixing together. “But that’s just it, isn’t it?” you whispered, shaking your head slowly. “We don’t have any other choice. And that’s why everything feels like it’s slipping through our fingers. Like we’re drowning, but we can’t even admit it.”

There was a heavy silence that followed your words. You could feel his gaze on you, his eyes watching, studying. You wanted him to say something. Anything. But he didn’t. And you couldn’t bring yourself to speak again. It felt like if either of you said anything more, something inside would break.

You didn’t know how long you stood there, just looking at him, feeling the weight of the moment press in on you both. The room felt small, too small for all the things you had just laid bare.

And then, for the first time in what felt like forever, In-ho spoke.

“I know,” he said simply, his voice quieter than before, like the words had drained the last bit of weight from him. “I know exactly what it feels like.”

The words landed like a punch to the gut, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. He knew. He knew. The realization hit you hard. The man behind the mask, the man who had spent so long behind walls of silence and distance, was human. Just like you. He was stuck too.

He didn’t say anything else. But at that moment, you didn’t need him to. The truth between you felt like a raw nerve, an open wound that neither of you knew how to heal. But it was the first time you hadn’t felt like you were talking to a stranger.

You felt like you were talking to someone who understood the weight of this world—the weight of the Games. The weight of being forced to play a role you didn’t choose. You weren’t alone.

In-ho looked down, his fingers rubbing the edge of his tablet absently. “I didn’t sign up for any of this either,” he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for you to hear. But the words were there. He didn’t sign up for this.

You weren’t sure what it meant, but in that moment, it felt like the first crack in the wall he’d built around himself. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

Before you could speak again, he turned towards his office. His back was to you as he walked toward the door, but just as he reached it, he stopped.

There was a long pause before he spoke again. His voice, softer now, more human than you’d ever heard it.

“I didn’t choose this either,” he said quietly, almost as if to himself. He turned back to you, his mask still in place, but there was something different in the way he stood. “But I’m still here.”

And with that, he walked into his office, leaving you alone in the room, the weight of the conversation hanging between you like the air after a storm it was heavy, thick, full of possibility.

———————

Chapter eight!!! Yippee! Lemme know what you think! 🫶

Tag list:

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@nanamilkbread

#squid games x reader #squid game x y/n #squid game x reader #squid game #x reader #in ho x reader #arranged marriage #marriage au #a game of hearts

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monokoitari · 2 days ago

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As it seems my favorite hobby is making Shen Yuan transmigrate on random characters, idea where he transmigrates into a rogue cultivator with a very pretty and delicate face. It's almost like he looks like a pretty lady!!

... So, he decides that since he looks like a pretty girl, the only place he can survive without becoming a villain or cannon fodder is in Luo Binghe's harem.

Don't get him wrong, he doesn't even plan on getting close to Luo Binghe! But infiltrating the harem is ridiculously easy. He then asks a servant if she can assign him a new room because one of the wives filled his room with poisonous herbs. Not surprisingly, it works, because Shen Yuan knows that this is one of the most common harem drama plots. Jealous wives, drama, seeking the emperor's attention. Very common.

Now, even if he has to cross-dress for it, he has a comfortable room, three meals a day, books everywhere. He starts making friends with the servants, because well, they're interesting demons and Shen Yuan has a lot of questions about their cultures and origins. They respond, of course, happy to be recognized as equals by someone so curious.

Eventually, if any of the wives tries to do something against him... The servants are the ones who will take away all the favor from her. Get along with the servants and you will have the world! So is Shen Yuan who receives the best fabrics for embroidery, the best dresses, the best foods, the freshest fruit, the best makeup items, the most beautiful jewelry. And when some jealous wife picks on him about it, the servants don't change her sheets, leave her clothes unwashed, and give her leftovers to eat.

The fame that Shen Yuan begins to gain in the harem is... complicated. Of course, he goes largely unnoticed. He dresses modestly, spends time with the servants. When he walks through the gardens he is always talking to one or two servants about monsters, creatures, strange flowers, asking questions and gathering data. Shen Yuan is the emperor's strange wife that none of the 300 wives know where he came from, but no one suspects that he doesn't belong there because, well. In reality, it is completely impossible for there to be 300 of them all to know each other. Some do not even know the main wives beyond the stories told about them.

The only one who remembers, recognizes and knows all his wives is, of course, Luo Binghe.

And Luo Binghe knows that she... that he? is not one of his wives.

However, he doesn't cause trouble, he's kind to the servants, he doesn't attack other wives, and he doesn't seek their attention. So how bad can it be to just allow him to be there? He keeps a low profile, and even seems to be hiding. Luo Binghe considers the idea of him being a minor noble fleeing his horrible family and believing that he can find a home in the harem because of Luo Binghe's good treatment of his wives.

It would be cruel to kick him out when he apparently has good friends in the palace and a home now. Plus, he has to admit that he is very committed to his hiding place: he always wears dresses, elaborate hairstyles and looks like a delicate and sweet young lady with rouge on his cheeks and his lips as pink as petals.

And Luo Binghe is curious. Oh well. If he approach him and act like he really believe that they are married, talking and trying to understand him, wouldn't that be interesting?

(It is not interesting for Shen Yuan. Now, facing a Luo Binghe who definitely believes that they are married and offers his arm in walks in the gardens and conversations, Shen Yuan could die. The blackened protagonist is going to kill him when he knows the truth!! Well, that means he have to do... ahem... Whatever it takes to convince him that he's one of his pretty wives.)

#mxtx svsss #svsss #shen yuan #bingyuan #fanfic ideas #luo bingge #pidw #pidw luo binghe #pidw harem #shen yuan transmigrates #svsss fanfiction idea #luo binghe #The idea of Shen Yuan having to cross-dress cracks me up

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yestrday · 1 day ago

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— YANDERE! MALEWIFE! GENSHIN AU part one | two | three | four | five

⇢ neuvillette, wriothesley, lyney, freminet + baizhu

introducing ! fontaine is the country of romance, and what could be the peak of romance but marriage? you have sworn your eternal love and fealty to your partner and fontainians are anything but dispassionate lovers! if you're scared that your partner will get too passionate, well.... qui vivra verra.

[ happy new year! is yestr actually being productive?! i did not do mika bc... gasp! yestr is lazy?! who wouldve known! ]

warning ! yandere behavior, bIackma1l, múrder, i feel like im getting lost by own aus so i have to say it again: this is modern teyvat!, hints at poison, jealousy, child assássins?!

— ORDAINER OF INEXORABLE JUDGMENT. neuvillette | ヌヴィレット

[ “clearly, your workplace is not complying with multiple clauses of the Code du Travail, i should—” ]

⇢ before meeting you, neuvillette couldn’t have imagined getting married and settling down for a domestic life. he’d always thought that he’d forever be swamped with trials and paperworks until he hit retirement age. he had no ideal life in mind, only work and justice to occupy his thoughts, until you came along and he found himself exchanging vows with you in a fontainian church.

⇢ he wouldn’t call his current life ‘retirement’ per se, but rather a change of occupation. tending to the house while you left for your job appealed to him more than working day in and day out in courthouses. he had taken up baking and cooking, something to treat the visiting melusines with as they dropped by to check on their father and his partner. neuvillette and a party of chatty melusines having tea and homemade cookies is a common sight to return home to. the melusines are pretty friendly with you, having seen how enamored their father figure is with you. their innocent smiles and cute lil bodies are stress relievers, though not more so than your husband’s gentle smile and firm hands massaging the knots from your shoulders.

⇢ he busies himself with various hobbies once all the chores are out of the way. flip through a book and read out loud to the melusines snuggled on top of him, attempt a baking recipe one of the girls begged him to try, or stroll through the neighborhood to clear his mind. he doesn’t even know he’s so so lonely until he hears your car pull up in the driveway and he immediately jumps up from whatever he’s doing and rushes over to greet you. the first thing you see is your husband peering through the window with a cool composure, but you can see straight through that facade. you see his brows knitted together in worry, his fingers nervously adjusting the hems of his robe, and his eyes eagerly drinking your tired body in as you make it up the steps. you can’t help but smile as you bring him down to your level and kiss him, your big, awkward oaf of a husband.

⇢ is very particular about the water in your household. taps are all filtered, the water dispenser is stocked with only the best brands, and he is oh-so-meticulous when it comes to drawing your baths! he makes sure that the water is at the right temperature, filters out any impurities no matter how minuscule of an atom by his hand, and uses salts and bath bombs according to what he assumes will be your liking for the day. the both of you prioritized the bathroom when building your house, so the bathtub and the surrounding atmosphere is juuust right for a little cuddle time in the bath.

⇢ dragon-born that he is, you have to forgive neuvillette’s tendencies of being a tad too possessive. well, ‘tad’ is a bit underselling it, but you have to understand. the whiskey scent stuck to your wrinkled laundry, the nauseating aroma of another one’s perfume… something dark and guttural creeps from within his depths that he forces himself to repress. you know he’s not one for perfumes, but if you did wear one it would be one that he liked— crisp, fresh, aquatic. not this scent-numbing sweetness that cloys his senses. he’d like to burn the top and its offensive scent away but… he remembers how damn good you look in this v-neck and decides that it’s nothing a lil spin the wash can’t fix.

⇢ luckily, your husband is still on the saner side, so you’re one of the lucky few who might never come across your husband’s violent tendencies. but they still come out, just a bit more… subtly. he massages your stiff shoulders late at night as he puts on a record on the gramophone for you, listening to you rant about your terrible boss. there are a few details that make him pause, and for a second there you thought he was going to pop your arms from their sockets. but he composes himself so quickly that you think you just imagined it. he inquires a bit more, rubbing your back with a generous helping of lavender oil, and you tell it all to him because… why wouldn’t you? this is your sweet, worried husband who is oh-so-wise and amazing!

⇢ the very next day, not your boss but your upper management gets a visit from the maison gardiennage. they’re all in upheaval now that they’ve got the police on them, but neuvillette is sitting at home contently, sipping tea with you in the garden after your office has suddenly called off work for the day. he’s taking glances from his oh-so-interesting novel to watch your face as you reach for another cookie the girls baked, rambling about how miraculous it for your company to generously allow all of you a day-off. he just chuckles and goes back to his book, gratefully accepting a cookie a melusine’s reaches towards his mouth.

“oh, it hardly feels real!” you gush over a cup of rose tea, lounging in the shade of your backyard’s trees while you, neuvillette, and the melusines enjoy a perfect sunny afternoon. “they called the whole day off, it falls on a friday, i get to have a long weekend, and i get to spend it all with you and the girls!” you sigh dreamily. “pinch me neuvi, it feels like a dream!” your husband, picture-perfect in his chair with a book and melusine in his arms, chuckles at your dramatics. “dear, if one measly day off makes you act this way, maybe it’s time for you to find another job. or…” feeling huffy by the mere implication, you abruptly stand up and slam your hands on the table. “no, no, neuvi! i love you, but i can’t possibly have you working again! you deserve it after all these years of hard work! i want you to just sit back and relax and have your awesome partner shower you in money, okay?” he takes your face in his hand, his thumb running along your dark undereyes. you watch as his face, normally so composed yet awkward, contort into a mixture of worry and regret, before finally dissolving into acceptance. “well. that i would allow. so long as you return to by my side at the end of the night.” you giggle and press a kiss into his palm before plopping back down. “so romantic!” you tease. “of course, neuvi! where else would i come back to anyway?” you don’t know it, but the dragon inside him preens at your unknowing admission of ownership as he settles back into his chair and continues his novel with a silent smile on his face.

[ “well girls, that is how marriage ought to be when you are bound to a dragon. ownership of your spouse and in turn, protect your treasure at all times.” ]

— EMISSARY OF SOLITARY INIQUITY. wriothesley | リオセスリ

[ “keep my shirt on, you say? well sure, but you’re the one enjoying the show.” ]

⇢ your darn stud of a husband…! with his cool blue eyes, his large scarred biceps, that cocky smirk when he catches you staring and just… everything about him, he makes you feel like you’re back to the younger you who could only stare yearningly at him from afar. he’s always teasing you, making sure to unbutton the first three buttons just to show off his cleavage… he gets a kick out of seeing you blushing and squeaking when he gets too close wearing nothing but an apron.

⇢ when the two of you moved into the neighborhood, he scared off the neighbors with his cold features and muscled, scarred body, but that’s not quite the case anymore. they quickly got to know him as pretty easygoing and reliable; the community relies on him for a lot of heavy lifting for their projects, and he frequently invites the aunties for tea parties in your backyard. you often come home to the aunties filing out your gate in giggles, slapping you on the shoulder for a job well done securing such a ‘hunk of a man’. you raise your eyebrows at wriothesley, who leans against the door frame with a smug smirk before beckoning you for dinner.

⇢ he’s a little bit hesitant whenever the topic of having kids comes up. he knows he is not his foster parents… and yet the thought of setting these scarred hands on an innocent little life. these hands have ended people— cruel, abusive, and cold-hearted, but people nonetheless. he’s afraid that he might continue the cycle of abuse that he’s been haunted by for so long. wriothesley knows deep down that will never happen; you were there to ground him and keep his wits about him, but his fears still surface whenever the conversation happens. these children would be yours too, and he wants nothing but the best for you and this family.

⇢ when you talk to him about a co-worker hitting on you at work, he isn’t so insecure as to immediately get jealous and possessive. he’s a smug bastard; he knows he’s hot. he’s got aunties telling him, men and women alike eyeing him in the gym, and he’s got you blushing every day like you aren’t married. so he only laughs with you at their meaningless attempts. things get… a bit different when you’re in actual danger. throughout your relationship, wriothesley’s always been the overprotective type. sometimes you think he’s going too far, with the way you’ve seen him throwing hands and crushing skulls at sleazy men trying to grope you in bars. but you haven’t seen anything yet.

⇢ you don’t know. you don’t know his past, don’t know his deeds, don’t know his sins. he’s only ever presented himself as a suave, teasing gentleman. he was as normal as a prison warden could get and he played this role until you said yes to his proposal. you don’t know about life before he was in power. when he was the one behind those bars. you’ve never questioned why he didn’t let you into his workspace or why he was so eager to get away from that life as soon as you two signed the marriage papers.

⇢ and so it sends a shiver down your spine when you see wriothesley so… lifeless. you thought it was a nice surprise, seeing your husband wait for you outside your work, but with the way he’s staring down your co-worker you’re beginning to suspect that he’s not actually there for you. you try pushing him to make him budge, but his muscled body doesn’t move an inch as the slimy rat scampers away from his glare. you call out his name, worriedly, and he blinks a few times before he’s back to his normal, friendly self. you spend the rest of the week in unease, those strangers’ eyes haunting you at the back of your mind.

“look at you,” wriothesley hums, dropping the nearly unconscious person from his grasp. they fall to the alley’s cement ground, heaving and spluttering blood as they try to regain their senses. splotches of black block their vision, the buzz of nightlife so far away and muffled in his ringing ears, and when he tries to prop himself up, the ex-warden’s glare makes them freeze in terror. “i don’t make a habit of hurting people, believe me, but it’s hard to stay calm when i hear some rat is harassing my partner when i’m not there.” he presses a heel into their ruptured throat, indifferent to the ensued coughing and choking. “do you know how long i’ve been waiting for this? to teach you a lesson?” “i don’t— wheeze— don’t know what’re ya talkin’ about—!” at this, wriothesley scowls and he releases them from his heel’s pressure before delivering a swift kick to their shin. they’re sent flying towards a dumpster, their back hitting the metal and sending them back to the concrete. wriothesley approaches them, towering over their bloody figure. they’re ways off from the red district and even if they could scream, their throat is too damaged to even think about it. they can only stare in growing fear as they pray that this… monster before him would spare him. “pleading guilty, huh? too bad.” their eyes roll to the back of their head as his fingers wrap around their throat, crushing their pipe with the eased movements of a murderer. “i’m not some justice system. i’m just here to kill you. plain and simple” he grins at the dying man still weakly struggling to push away his arm. “you understand, right? all’s fair in love and war… or somethin’ like that.”

[ “they said something about me? pay no mind. people like to gossip about handsome people like me.” ]

— SPECTACLE OF PHANTASMAGORIA. lyney | リネ

[ “one moment there is nothing in my palm and the next… tada! roses from the garden! welcome home~” ]

⇢ lyney’s always been the coy, teasing type. he likes to suddenly pull your faces together, breath on your lips as he leans in for a kiss, before his finger slips in a failed cooking and he bounces away laughing as you splutter and gag. he likes to wake up in the morning, innocent stretching as if he doesn’t notice the way his shorts ride up his thighs and your shirt on him hiking up to show his lean physique. he puts on a show— hiding his face as he teases you for being a pervert for enjoying his oh-so-vulnerable body. you blush and finish straightening out your necktie, leaving lyney to laugh as you bolt out the door for work.

⇢ even before you were married, the two of you already enjoy all the stresses and joys that come with being parents. lyney, after all, is the successor of the same orphanage he grew up in. the children there call him ‘father’ and when he introduced you to them, you found yourself taking up the same parent role as your partner. lyney is overjoyed to see you take to the children so well, fondly dropping by the orphanage next door and taking time out of your busy schedule to play with them. when you’re finall off the clock, you see lyney in an apron waving you from the porch surrounded by children leaning over to greet you two. you always have to tighten your grip on the steering wheel whenever you see the sight. it’s like… it’s like… gah, you can’t explain it, but something about this domestic bliss lights up a fire in your loins.

⇢ has a habit of rewarding you after a long day’s work. once he makes sure that all the orphans are settled in for the night, the two of you move to your abode next door so he can soothe the stress from your body. poor thing, he murmurs, finger tickling the shell of your ear as he sets down your plate in front of you. his pretty partner, being bullied by their big, mean boss and their pushy co-workers. lucky for you, you’ve got such an adoring husband ready to take care of you for the rest of the night, huh?

⇢ family. family. he’s had lynette, but to have parents by his side to coddle and cherish him? he’s never grown to know such a feeling. so when he sees you playing with the kids, begrudging in indulging their outlandish requests yet smiling with such fondness… something inside him burns so passionately he thinks it might consume him. by blood, these kids were not his but this must be it. to have a whole and complete family. and to have this family with you, the love of his life! were it not for the tight feeling in his chest, he would’ve thought that this would be a fantastical dream.

⇢ the house of the hearth is just a government recruitment agency under the guise of a loving orphanage, and everyone but you is privy to that information. you don’t recognize your own children following you in the streets or peering into your office windows. the cctvs don’t catch them rustling through your boss’ drawers for black market transactions. why would you, when you come home to them smiling and hugging your legs, begging you for a bedtime story? when you retire for the night, they report to their boss— their Father— and it’s just another day of keeping their family whole and happy.

⇢ you are, after all, are lyney’s weakness. you remain blissfully aware of the many people after your head, hoping to cut deep into snezhnayan government by gaining the upper hand with lyney. so you don’t know how much blood has been shed in your name by the same innocent kids you’ve grown to care for as your own… or the fact that it has been all commanded by your loving and faithful husband, who kisses you on the lips so sweetly every night that you would never know they’ve been long tainted by poison.

“father,” one of his children kneel on the ground, cloaked in black as they ready to deliver their report for the day. “nothing unusual has happened today in the office.” “that’s good news then!” ‘Father’ claps happily as he lounges lazily on his mahogany office desk. despite the smile in his voice and his cheery demeanor, his child doesn’t have to look up to see the cold-hearted eyes of an experienced agency and killer. “nice to know that the new boss has been behaving himself. it took so many of them before they realized what was actually going on!” “yes, father, this new one has been behaving himself but…” his child pauses, cautious to speak what they were about to say. “have you not considered asking mama to move jobs?” lyney sighs and puts a hand on his cheek. “oh dear, believe me i have. in fact, i even said that they didn’t need this job! but, well, you know how stubborn your mama can be. they wouldn’t even hear of it! i hope you and the other children can persuade them but… before that time comes, let’s just support your mama in whatever they want.” the child nods in understanding. they are, after all, the shining example of all their children. they remind him of himself back when he was still under the previous father’s care. “i will try, father. mama has promised to bring cake and have tea time with us when they get off their job so… maybe.” “hehe, your mama really loves you all so. have fun then, dear~”

[ “what do you mean the children have been acting strangely? maybe you’re tired from all that work you’re doing…” ]

— YEARNING FOR UNSEEN DEPTHS. freminet | フレミネ

[ “even though i am the way that i am… i hope i can always make you happy, like you make me.” ]

⇢ your sweet, sweet husband! he’s always hiding those shy blue eyes behind his pale blonde hair, head hunched over some mechanical device or seeking respite in his diving helmet. even after all these years together and eventually getting married, he’s still so shy when it comes to initiating physical contact. someone in this relationship has to, and so it seems to fall on your shoulders to get the hugs and kisses the two of you deserve. it’s not like you’re complaining, not when you can hear that precious squeak when you wrap your arms around his delicate waist and press a giggle-kiss onto his neck while he’s cooking up breakfast.

⇢ he’s a bit insecure about his role in your marriage. it has nothing to do with being a housewife, really! it’s just that… once you’re gone, he’s just so totally lost. at least when you’re there with him he can feel human again instead of some clockwork puppet rusting at home. you would guide him and tell him on what to do instead of him alone fretting and fussing over what he should do and if he would even get it right. you would never hurt him, and yet you get a bit concerned whenever you arrive home and freminet is there waiting for you with his hands nervously wrung together. you have to assure him that you would never get mad at such a sweet and dutiful housewife! only a monster would! and freminet knows that you’re anything but a monster.

⇢ you wouldn’t be able to tell by his face, but whenever you show him off to your co-workers and friends, he’s so over the moon that it’s a wonder he can contain himself. hearing you call him by such sicky-sweet names like ‘honey, dearie, baby, lovely’ while bragging about him has him hiding his face, but it’s only because he feels like the smile on his face looks so stupid! the others gag while you drone on and on about how pretty and amazing your partner is and freminet can only look down on his lap and clenched fists as he squirms in his seat. knowing that you adore him as much as he adores you… it makes his heart beat a mile per minute, something he thought would never happen before he met you.

⇢ he’s deathly scared of losing you. without you, he fears that he’ll revert back to his old self— that soulless, emotionless human more akin to a robot than a person. all his life he thought he would be better off unfeeling and wishing to be born with gears than a heart, but you came by and showed him how colorful life could be with the right person. he doesn’t want to lose you, but he’s so incompetent, so clumsy, so socially inept… how could he ever compare to the wonderful brilliant you?

⇢ he hopes you don’t hate him when he gets rid of these better, more amazing people. they’re usually your co-workers, sometimes strangers who’ve caught your eye, rarely ever your friends (he doesn’t want to make you unhappy). killing is rare for him and something he doesn’t do on a whim, but he fears that once you surround yourself with so many brilliant people you’ll see him for the failure that he is. so, even if it is only a temporary solution, he dons the diving mask and takes them out at the perfect timing. he was raised to be the perfect assassin, so in theory, he doesn’t have to worry about getting caught—

⇢ — except that you know him better than he knows himself. you have a talent for seeing through him that he gets scared that you’ll immediately sus out what he’s done the moment he walks through the door. on these days, he gets clingy and more affectionate, trying to make up for what he’s done. it’s a pleasant surprise to see your taciturn husband fling himself at you and nuzzle his head in your chest without further explanation. usually, people would demand an explanation for the sudden change of behavior… but why would you? you’re not going to complain if freminet decides to shower you with love out of nowhere! freminet in turn is just glad that you’re the way you are. you’ve invested so much love and resources into him… he doesn’t want to waste all of that and throw it all away.

“you’re so cute!” you giggle as you spin freminet around, still cuddled into your chest and pale arms around your torso. “what’s with the sudden love bomb? gosh, how were you born so cute! it doesn’t make sense!” you pepper kisses onto his face as you press him against the sofa, delighting in the way he tries to cover the blush on his freckled cheeks at your over-affectionate behavior. “n-nothing, really…” he mumbles, peeking at you through his fingers as you continue to shower him with pecks. you’ve loosened your tie and your white button-down has been wrinkled thoroughly by this sudden love fest. “i just… i love you, [your name]. i love you a lot.” you hum happily at his confession. this was nothing that you didn’t know, but it was still delightful to hear. you hear him suck in a breath, hesitating, before finally letting it out, “do– do you love me too…?” you cease your incessant kissing just to raise a brow at him, an incredulous look on your face. he reddens even further. he knows it’s a stupid question. how could anyone with two eyes ever question your love for your blonde husband? but still… he wants to hear it. even if he’s heard it from you this morning, and the day before, and every day before that… he wants to hear it now. “i love you, silly.” you boop him on the nose, flopping yourself beside him on the couch. he turns to look at you, his ice-blue eyes peering up at you through long lashes. “always have, always will.” you thread your fingers together. his hands, unlike the rest of him, are calloused and rough. hardened by those years of diving, perhaps? or something else? nevertheless, you press his hand to your lips and look at him. “i’ll say it as many times as you want.” you watch as those eyes, usually so taciturn and shy, tear up at your confession. you were so loving, so wonderful… he could hardly believe that you were his. “thank you… thank you, [your name], i just…” he lets out a choked laugh, a rare smile breaking out on those delicate features. “i don’t know… i just feel stupid today.” you hum in understanding, pressing another kiss to each of his fingers while he watches you. “rough day?” you ask, and he simply nods, not wanting to elaborate further. it’s okay. more than okay. you could guess by the metallic tang blooming on your lips on how exactly his day went.

[ “please… please don’t hate me… you don’t deserve this but i… but i don’t want them to realize what kind of person i am!” ]

— BEYOND MORTALITY. baizhu | 白术

[ “look at those dark circles… don’t prioritize your career over your health, okay? do it for me?” ]

⇢ baizhu is always fussing over your health despite being the sickly one, but you suppose that’s in line with him being a doctor. your pretty husband has relocated his clinic to your new home together and continues to enjoy a steady stream of his loyal customers. you worry about baizhu overworking himself while you’re at work, but him being at home puts you at ease. at least changsheng will be able to quickly guide him to bed whenever his chronic illness flares up and he has little qiqi with him… actually, you think you’re more worried about qiqi.

⇢ being married to baizhu comes with the benefit of welcoming qiqi and changsheng into your family. he treats qiqi like his own child despite being an amnesiac girl that he picked off his streets that you’ve grown to also care for her like she was your own daughter. baizhu tells you that you needn’t spoil her so much; she’ll probably forget to put on the new dress you bought for her, but he can’t tell you what to do! baizhu enjoys seeing you fawn over the child, watching in amusement as you desperately try to make her remember your name. it’s been a tough journey, but you are over the moon once she calls you mama/papa. that does make baizhu a tad jealous, something that changsheng teases him about. after all, he’s been with qiqi longer!

⇢ the two of you enjoy your quiet moments together. when night has fallen and qiqi has retired to her room, the two of you sit in the living room as you prepare for another day’s work. only his rustling of prescription papers and your hurried tapping on the keyboard can be heard; not a single conversation passes between you two. even changsheng has drifted off to sleep in the midst of this silence. finishing the last email for the day, you stretch and look to see how baizhu is doing. as always, he’s always so pretty focused on the task before him. his hair is still braided in its usual fashion, and you settle behind him and slowly detangle his locks. he doesn’t glance at you, but he hums in appreciation. his hair, oiled and trimmed at changsheng’s insistence, is soft and glossy as you brush it while you wait for him to finish up.

⇢ although he’s lauded by his patients as kind and selfless, those who don’t know him would think that he has an odd air about him. maybe it’s because his eyes contain a hidden cunning that the people you introduce him to becomes rather wary of him. or is it the way that he talks all politely but with a subtle bite to them? you don’t know why he becomes rather passive-aggressive when you invite someone over to your home, but you’re so enthralled by this change of behavior that you forget to scold him for it. your friends complain about the way baizhu looks at them from head to toe like he’s assessing them. you have to explain that it’s actually a doctor’s habit, some sort of medical procedure… or so baizhu explained once.

⇢ physical ailments are his expertise, mental illnesses he can refer his patients to another doctor, but stupdity is a disease that unfortunately cannot be cured. before he married you, he abhorred the disgusting feelings that stirred inside him whenever he sees you smile at another person. but now that he has married you and you have proclaimed yourself as his, he’s thrown away all self-disgust now that his jealousy has been justified. it’s human nature to feel possessive over someone that is his by right. for your sake, he tries to be as civil as possible… though it becomes impossible whenever he hears them complain about him to you whenever they think he’s out of earshot.

⇢ if they refuse to give the two of you some space, then baizhu surmises that he will have to do it himself. herbal concoctions are his thing, after all. who said it needed to be medicine? changsheng hisses in amusement as he mashes herbs together out in the lawn while you’re snoring away in bed. her eyes flicker to baizhu, face shadowed by the dark of night. before you, he’s always been so civil and logical. aside from his frail constitution, changsheng thinks that his marriage to you might have given her partner another malady.

“hey, baizhu, something’s up with guanxi,” is the first thing you sat when you come back from work. changsheng watches as the doctor’s eye twitches before he forces his lips to smile warmly to greet you. you peck your husband on the cheek. “he’s been coughing and hacking blood since yesterday.” “oh my,” he says in a tone that’s supposed to sound concerned. “that is concerning. go contact him to see when he’s available and i’ll squeeze him into my schedule tomorrow.” you start tp dial his number on your phone, before you stop and after a few seconds of thinking, shake your head. “nah… that wouldn’t work. he gets very awkward around you. says you give him the creeps. i don’t get it! you’re like, the most perfect being to exist.” baizhu giggles when you cup his head into your palms as you admire the beauty that is your husband. you slyly smile and whisper. “don’t tell him, but just for that, i gave him twice more work than he had to do.” and people think he’s sly. they should see you! baizhu laughs at your show of devotion and presses a kiss into one of your palms. “now, now. you can’t make all your friends like me the way you adore me so. but, well… call it coincidence, but i did make your favorite today.” you gasp in delight. “is this my gift for avenging my darling wife?!” he rolls his eyes at your dramatic antics and pinch your cheeks fondly. “mmm, call it a… hm, a celebration feast.”

[ “oh my, and i just had the prescription for that as well. people should trust their local doctors more.” ]

#yandere genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere neuvillette #yandere wriothesley #yandere lyney #yandere freminet #yandere baizhu #yester.writes #yester.au — househusbands 💍

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