#also something about Logan relating to children that have been used by others as a weapon and wanting better for them or smt

[t0ast-ghost]

Whenever Logan finds out the “big bad” is actually just a little kid he immediately goes into “I need to protect this child” mode which is just a step away from Xavier’s “I need to adopt this child” mode

[mcrdvcks]

Until I Found You

Summary: Living in a small town had it's pluses and minuses. But when an older man and his daughter move in, things start to change, perhaps for the better.

Word Count: 24.3k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!teacher!reader

Notes: this is looong, and believe me, i was surprised when i realized that it ended up being 24,000 words.

this thing is a slow-burn, i was literally screaming at my screen saying 'just kiss already!' then realizing that, in fact, i'm the one who has to make them kiss or confess or do something.

reader has a last name, but other than that, she isn't described. this technically could be considered an AU of logan (2017) where logan survives, so this was written with old man logan in mind.

i would like to turn this into another oneshot series, so don't be afraid to send in any requests! (relating to this or anything else you want to see!)

warnings: none!

The small town you lived in meant a few things, everyone knew everyone, and everyone got in everyone’s business.

A few months ago, an older man and his young daughter moved into town. You weren’t sure exactly how old he was, of course you knew who he was, but even you had to admit, he was attractive. But that’s what everyone thought, you heard the mothers who would pick up their children from school, looking at Logan as he picked up Laura.

It was nice to see a man who picked up his kid, though you’ve never seen Laura’s mother, so perhaps that explains why.

Laura was a quiet and sweet girl, at least that’s what you thought. Apparently, she also had the spirit of a firecracker and got angry easily. And while she’s visited the principal’s office at least 9 times since she’s been here, you still can’t help but see her as a cute little girl who’s been through something traumatic, whatever it was.

You were standing outside with your class in the afternoon, waiting until all the students were picked up. Laura was in another teacher’s class at the end of the day, your coworker Emma Zhou. You and Emma stood next to each other, your classes mingling as they waited for their parents to pick them up.

Emma leaned close to you, “this is my favorite part of the day, you know.”

“Yeah, I think it’s everyone’s favorite part of the day. We get to go home after this.” You replied.

“It used to be that, but now…” Emma trailed off as you glanced over at her, “there aren’t a lot of people in this town who are good looking. But he’s a great new addition.”

You hummed noncommittally, so what if Logan was good-looking? It wasn't like you spent your time ogling him. He was just another parent in the sea of them, a bit rougher around the edges maybe, but nothing that special. Emma shot you a knowing look.

"Come on, you’ve seen him, right? That scruffy beard, those eyes," Emma said, nudging you with her elbow. "He’s like one of those rugged cowboys from the old Westerns."

"You sound like you're about to swoon," you teased, trying to keep the conversation light. You didn't want to admit you might have noticed the way his eyes softened when he looked at Laura or the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Well, can you blame me?" Emma shot back with a grin. "Small town like ours, and a guy like that shows up? It's bound to turn some heads."

You knew that much. All the women, even those who were married, always ogled him, but he either didn’t mind or didn’t care. His salt and pepper hair, the thick beard—he was practically a wet dream for women everywhere.

Emma nudged you again, eyes gleaming with mischief. "What, you’re not even the least bit curious about him?"

"I mean, sure, he's... attractive, but I'm not about to join the fan club," you said, shrugging it off, though you could feel heat creeping up your neck. You kept your focus on the kids in front of you, especially Laura, who sat quietly on the steps, doodling in her notebook like she always did while waiting for her dad.

Emma smirked, clearly not buying your indifference. "Yeah, right. I see the way you look over there sometimes."

You scoffed, shaking your head. "You're seeing things."

Just then, you noticed Logan’s truck pull into the school parking lot. He stepped out, running a hand through his hair as he made his way over to the crowd of parents. Laura immediately perked up, her quiet demeanor shifting just a little, and she started gathering her things without a word.

"Speak of the devil," Emma murmured, but you ignored her, watching as Logan approached, his usual scowl in place, though it softened when his eyes landed on his daughter.

He gave a brief nod in your direction as he came closer. "Afternoon."

"Hey," you replied, casually. You weren’t about to give Emma the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.

Laura stood up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder as she walked over to him. She paused in front of you, though, glancing up with those big, serious eyes of hers.

"Bye, Ms. Aberra," she said, her voice quiet but steady with a hint of her accent.

You smiled. "See you tomorrow, Laura."

She gave a small nod before taking Logan’s hand. He didn’t say much else, just a simple ‘thanks’ before turning to leave with Laura in tow. You watched them walk away for a moment longer than necessary, noticing the slight limp in his step that he tried to hide.

"Y/N," Emma sing-songed, breaking you out of your thoughts. "Admit it, you’ve got a little thing for him, don't you?"

You rolled your eyes. "You really need a new hobby."

Emma laughed, but before she could press any further, her attention shifted to another parent picking up their kid, and you were grateful for the distraction. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder about Logan and Laura, what their story was. Everyone in town seemed to have their theories—some more ridiculous than others—but you’d always figured it wasn’t your place to pry.

As the crowd of students and parents thinned out, you found yourself thinking about Logan again. His gruff exterior didn’t bother you—it reminded you of those old Clint Eastwood characters, tough but with something vulnerable underneath. Maybe it was the way he looked at Laura, so protective but with a softness that made you wonder what kind of man he really was when he let his guard down.

Emma’s voice pulled you back to the present. "So, what’s your plan for the evening?"

You shrugged. "Probably just grading papers. Maybe catching up on some Netflix. You?"

"Trying to figure out how to run into Logan at the grocery store," she joked, though you wouldn’t have been surprised if she wasn’t kidding.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Good luck with that."

As you both said your goodbyes and headed to your cars, you couldn’t help but glance over at Logan’s truck one more time. He was already driving off, Laura in the passenger seat, her head leaning against the window.

You let out a small sigh and got in your car, starting the engine. You weren’t sure what it was about him, but there was something there. Maybe Emma wasn’t entirely wrong.

Not that you’d ever admit that to her.

---

Much to your dismay, you had to go to the store once you were already clad in your loungewear. You wanted to make pasta, only to remember you forgot to get milk after work.

So now, here you were at the small local grocery store grabbing milk and a pint of ice cream for your troubles. The store was quiet at this hour, a few other people milling about but otherwise uneventful. You grabbed a basket and made a beeline for the dairy section, trying to get in and out as quickly as possible. Loungewear was great for a lazy evening at home, but not exactly your first choice for public appearances.

Once you made it to the frozen section, you looked at the pints of ice cream, specifically looking for one of your favorites, Ben and Jerry’s s’mores. “Fuck.” You muttered, seeing a pint of cookie dough in the spot of the s’mores.

You angrily grabbed the cookie dough ice cream to look behind it, only to find a chunky monkey pint. With a huff, you looked at the pint of ice cream, mentally cursing your luck. Just as you were about to put it back onto the shelf, a deep voice spoke from beside you.

"Didn't figure you for a chunky monkey type."

Startled, you looked up and found Logan standing there, one eyebrow raised, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He was holding a six-pack of beer and a carton of eggs in one hand, the other casually resting in the pocket of his jeans.

You blinked, thrown off by the sudden appearance. "What? Oh, no, I was just... I was looking for s'mores," you explained awkwardly, holding up the ice cream like it was evidence.

He nodded, his smirk deepening a little as he glanced at the shelves. "Guess they’re out, huh?"

"Yeah, my luck tonight," you muttered, a little embarrassed to be caught standing here obsessing over ice cream in your loungewear. Not exactly how you wanted to run into the guy you were definitely not crushing on. How could you? He was the Wolverine, around 200 years old, and looked to be the age of your father. Well, if your father was still alive. Or if you ever got to know him.

Logan glanced at the shelf again and shrugged. "S'mores is overrated anyway."

You quirked an eyebrow at him, momentarily forgetting your embarrassment. "Oh really? What’s your go-to then, Mr. Anti-S'mores?"

He smirked, that same low, gravelly voice coming through as he responded. "Not much of an ice cream guy, but if I had to choose… probably plain vanilla. Simple. Not too sweet."

You couldn't help the chuckle that escaped you. "Of course you'd go for the most basic flavor."

His eyebrow twitched slightly at that, and you could see the playful glint in his eyes. "Sometimes simple’s the best option."

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a pint of vanilla. "Well, I guess I'll take your advice tonight, then. Not like I have much of a choice."

He gave you a brief nod, and for a moment, it seemed like the conversation would end there, but then Logan shifted slightly, his weight on one leg, clearly trying to mask the limp you'd noticed earlier. You weren’t sure if it was from the adamantium or something else, but it definitely wasn’t healing like it should. You found yourself biting your lip, wanting to ask but knowing better.

Instead, you went for something safer. "Laura’s doing well in class, by the way. She’s sharp. A little stubborn, but sharp."

He glanced down at you, a flicker of pride crossing his face. "Yeah, she’s a tough one." His expression softened as he added, "She doesn’t talk about it, but I know she likes you. Keeps her distance with most people."

Your heart fluttered a little at that. Laura was a bit of a mystery, rarely engaging much with the other teachers or students, so hearing that she’d let her guard down even a little with you meant more than you’d expected. "Well, she’s a good kid. I try not to push her too much."

Logan nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than you expected, like he was sizing you up in that quiet, brooding way of his. It made you feel both exposed and… oddly seen.

"Anyway," you said, breaking the silence, "I’ll let you get back to your shopping. I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do than stand around talking about ice cream."

He gave a small grunt that might’ve been a laugh, but it was so subtle you couldn’t be sure. "Yeah. See you around, Ms. Aberra."

"Y/N," you corrected, feeling a little awkward. "You can just call me Y/N."

He hesitated for a split second before nodding. "Y/N, then."

You gave him a small smile, feeling a strange warmth at the way your name sounded in his deep voice. He gave a nod before turning to leave, but as he walked away, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at his retreating form. There was something about him—something rough, broken, but undeniably captivating.

---

The next morning, you pulled into the school parking lot, iced coffee in hand, still replaying your chance encounter with Logan at the grocery store. Why did it have to be the one night you went out in loungewear? If Emma ever found out, you'd never hear the end of it. You mentally braced yourself as you walked toward the building, determined to shake off any lingering thoughts about last night.

As you entered the teacher's lounge to drop off your things, Emma was already there, nursing her own cup of coffee. She spotted you immediately and raised an eyebrow.

"You look a little too chipper for a Wednesday," she teased.

You shrugged, trying to act casual. "Just happy to be halfway through the week."

"Uh-huh," she said, not quite convinced. "You didn't run into anyone interesting last night, did you?"

Your heart skipped a beat. How does she know?

"Like who?" you asked, trying to play dumb, but Emma's smirk told you she wasn't buying it.

"Oh, I don’t know... maybe a certain rugged cowboy-looking guy with a truck?" she said, her grin widening.

You groaned. "Seriously, do you have a sixth sense or something?"

"I knew it!" Emma practically squealed. "You did run into Logan, didn’t you? Come on, spill!"

You rolled your eyes and took a seat at the table. "It was nothing. We just ran into each other in the frozen section, talked for, like, two seconds. That’s it."

"Uh-huh, and?" Emma leaned forward, eager for details.

"And nothing. We talked about ice cream. He said s'mores was overrated."

Emma let out a dramatic gasp. "Overrated? Now, I know he's not perfect."

You chuckled despite yourself. "Yeah, well, that's the most thrilling part of my story, so feel free to be disappointed."

Emma shook her head, still grinning. "Oh, I'm not disappointed at all. This is just the beginning."

"There's nothing to begin, Emma," you said, exasperated. "He's just another parent."

"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that," she said with a wink before heading out to her classroom. You couldn't help but roll your eyes again as you followed her out into the hallway.

---

The morning passed uneventfully, but Laura had been quieter than usual in your class. Not that she was typically the most talkative kid, but today she seemed more distant, even from you. She’d finished her assignments early, as usual, but spent most of the class staring out the window instead of doodling in her notebook.

During lunch, you decided to check in with her. You found her sitting by herself outside, picking at the sandwich Logan had packed for her. You approached cautiously, not wanting to startle her.

"Hey, Laura," you greeted, taking a seat on the bench next to her. "Everything okay?"

She glanced at you, her expression as unreadable as always, before giving a slight shrug. "Yeah."

You studied her for a moment, noticing the way she kept her gaze low, avoiding eye contact more than usual. Something was definitely off. You knew better than to push too hard, but you also didn't want her to bottle everything up.

"Well, you know if you ever want to talk, I’m here," you said gently.

She gave another shrug, but this time, her eyes flickered up to meet yours briefly. "I know."

You nodded, letting the silence settle between you. Laura wasn’t one for big emotional outbursts—at least not around you—but you had a feeling she'd talk when she was ready.

"By the way," you said, changing the subject to lighten the mood, "your dad said he don’t like s'mores ice cream. Is that true, or is he just weird?"

Laura looked up at you, her lips twitching slightly like she was trying not to smile. "I like s'mores."

"Thought so," you replied with a smirk. "Well, I’m officially questioning all of your dad's taste now."

Laura didn’t laugh, but her expression softened a little, and she took another bite of her sandwich. It wasn’t much, but it felt like progress. You let her finish eating in peace, feeling a little more at ease knowing that you’d at least gotten her to relax.

---

The afternoon flew by, and soon enough, the end-of-day pickup routine was in full swing. You and Emma stood outside again, watching the usual parade of parents and cars. Logan’s truck was easy to spot as it pulled up to the curb. You tried to act like you weren’t paying attention, but of course, Emma caught you glancing over.

"Still nothing, huh?" she teased under her breath.

"Shut up," you muttered, doing your best to seem disinterested.

Logan stepped out of the truck, his usual stoic expression in place as he made his way toward the school. Laura was already waiting, standing near the steps with her backpack slung over her shoulder. She saw him and walked over without hesitation, but before they left, she turned back to you.

"Bye, Ms. Aberra," she said, her voice a little softer than usual.

"See you tomorrow, Laura," you replied with a smile.

Logan gave you a nod as they walked past, and you couldn’t help but notice the slight limp in his step again. It was subtle, but there. Your curiosity piqued, but you pushed it down, reminding yourself it wasn’t your place to pry.

Emma, however, was still watching you closely. "You’re so not fooling anyone."

You shot her a look. "Seriously, get a hobby."

Emma just grinned, clearly enjoying this way too much. "Oh, this is my hobby, Y/N. And I’m going to enjoy every minute of it."

As you both stood there, watching the last of the kids get picked up, you couldn’t help but glance over at Logan’s truck one more time as it drove away. Emma’s teasing was getting on your nerves, but there was a part of you that couldn’t completely dismiss what she was saying.

Maybe you were a little curious. Just a little. But you weren’t about to admit that to anyone—not even yourself.

---

Over the weekend you decided it was time to get an oil change. You weren’t going to go to ‘Mavin’s Oil Change’, not after that happened. Which is why for the past few years you’ve been doing it yourself.

It wasn’t difficult, and it was a lot cheaper, both wins in your book.

You walked around the hardware store, glancing at the shelves as you carried a new oil drain pan. You paused in front of the rows of motor oil, scanning the labels. Conventional had always worked fine for you, but maybe this time you'd splurge on the synthetic blend. It wasn't a huge decision, but it felt like a small act of treating yourself, in a way.

You were debating the pros and cons of the oil options when you heard the sound of someone walking up behind you.

"Didn’t peg you for the kind to do your own oil changes."

You turned your head and were met with Logan’s familiar gravelly voice. There he was again—of all places, he’d found you here in the auto section of the hardware store.

"Yeah, well, it's cheaper this way," you replied with a casual shrug, hoping to mask the slight surprise in your voice. You gestured to the oil in front of you. "What about you? Conventional or synthetic blend?"

Logan glanced at the shelf, then back at you. "Conventional. Gets the job done."

"Figures." You grinned a little, grabbing the conventional oil off the shelf. "Guess I’ll stick with what I know too, then."

He raised an eyebrow at you, but there was a hint of amusement behind his usual stoic demeanor. "Figured you’d be one to overthink it. Synthetic’s not all it’s cracked up to be."

You chuckled. "I’ll take your word for it, Mr. Oil Expert."

He grunted in response, grabbing something off the shelf for himself. For a moment, you both stood there, surrounded by tools and motor oil, neither of you saying much. It was kind of nice—quiet, comfortable in a way you wouldn’t have expected.

You shifted, holding the oil pan in your hands. "So, is Laura doing anything fun this weekend?"

Logan glanced at you, his face softening slightly at the mention of his daughter. "Not much. She likes to keep busy, but… this town ain’t exactly got a lot going on."

"True," you nodded, biting your lip as you tried to think of something. "She could come by and help me out with my garden, if she’s interested. I know she likes plants."

Logan looked at you, a little longer than usual, and you wondered if you’d crossed some kind of line offering something so personal. But then he nodded. "She’d probably like that."

"Cool," you said, feeling oddly relieved that you hadn’t messed up. "Let me know if she wants to. I could use an extra set of hands."

He gave a small nod, but his eyes lingered on you again for a second before he turned his attention back to the shelf. There was that same weight to his gaze, like he was always sizing things up, figuring people out.

"You know," you said, breaking the silence, "I’m starting to think you’re stalking me. First the grocery store, now here. Should I be worried?"

Logan snorted, shaking his head. "Pretty sure it’s the other way around."

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. "Excuse me? If anything, I’m just a simple schoolteacher who likes ice cream and doing her own oil changes. Hardly the stalking type."

"Sure," he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching just slightly into what could almost be considered a smile.

You felt your own lips tugging into a grin, and for a moment, it felt easier. Logan wasn’t always the easiest person to talk to, but something about these small, random moments with him made you feel more at ease than you expected.

"Well, good luck with your oil change," he said, turning to head down another aisle. "Maybe see you around."

"Yeah, see you around," you replied, watching him walk away before you continued shopping, a strange warmth lingering in your chest.

As you walked toward the checkout, you couldn’t help but think back on how natural it felt, just talking to him. There wasn’t any awkwardness or forced conversation—just two people running into each other at the hardware store. Nothing to overthink. Except, maybe, the fact that you were starting to like these encounters more than you’d like to admit.

---

Logan blew out a breath of his cigar smoke. Laura said she didn’t like it when he smoked inside so he started doing it outside on the porch.

A small added bonus was seeing you, a few houses down, across the street, currently underneath your car getting the oil to drain.

The door opened and shut behind him as Laura stepped out, “ella te gusta,” she said softly.

He let out a huff, “kid, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but I don’t know Spanish.”

Laura let out her own huff, sitting down next to Logan’s chair with her sketchbook, flipping it open. She didn’t say anything for a while, just started sketching in that intense, quiet way she had. Logan leaned back, puffing on his cigar, watching the smoke curl up into the air.

He caught himself glancing back across the street, where you were still working under your car. Laura's earlier comment lingered in his mind, even if he pretended not to know what it meant.

After a few minutes of silence, Laura looked up from her drawing. “You should go help her.”

Logan snorted, taking another puff of his cigar. “She’s fine. Knows what she’s doin’.”

Laura raised an eyebrow at him, her expression skeptical. “You’re always saying people shouldn’t be doin’ stuff like that alone. What if something happens?”

“Yeah, but she’s not helpless,” he grunted, though there was something in his tone that sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than her.

Laura shrugged and went back to her sketch. “Still think you should.”

Logan glanced at her, then back at you. You were sliding out from under the car, wiping your hands on your jeans, looking like you’d handled it just fine. He grunted again, though this time it was more to himself.

“What are you drawing?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

Laura held up her sketchbook, showing him a detailed drawing of a plant—a vine with thorns twisting around a branch. It reminded him of your garden, something about the way the plants seemed to grow wild but still had a certain beauty to them.

“That for Ms. Aberra?” Logan asked, the name slipping out before he could stop it. He tried to keep his tone casual, but Laura shot him a knowing look.

“Maybe.” She shrugged, but there was a smirk playing on her lips. “She likes plants. Thought she’d like this.”

Logan just nodded, staying quiet. He wasn’t about to get into a conversation with an eleven-year-old about why he’d noticed things about your garden or how you seemed to have a way with plants. That wasn’t his style.

“Why don’t you go show her?” Logan suggested, nodding toward you as you gathered up your tools.

Laura seemed to think about it for a second, then shook her head. “Maybe later. She’s busy.”

Logan raised an eyebrow at her but didn’t push it. He knew better than to try and make Laura do something if she wasn’t in the mood. The kid had a stubborn streak a mile wide. Though he supposes it was his fault.

A teenage girl who was walking a dog, a tan pit bull, stopped in front of your driveway, the dog happily wagging its tail as it patiently waited for you to say hello.

You were still wiping the oil off your hands when you noticed the pair. "Hey, there.” You smiled as you crouched down to greet Juno, who leaned eagerly into your hand, her tail wagging excitedly. "How are you, Juno?" you cooed, giving the pit bull a good scratch behind the ears.

The teenage girl holding the leash smiled politely. “She’s been dying to see you again,” she said, giving the leash a little slack so the dog could get closer.

"Well, I’m always happy to see her." You grinned as the dog nudged your leg, clearly wanting more attention. "Been a busy evening?”

The girl shrugged. “Yeah, but Juno here makes it better. You know how it is.”

You nodded. "Definitely. Plants are my version of Juno. Or baking, it’s hard to decide.”

The girl chuckled lightly before glancing at the car behind you. “Doing your own oil change?”

"Yep," you said, standing up and wiping your hands again on the rag. "Easier and cheaper than going to a shop."

She raised an eyebrow. "Impressive. I wouldn’t even know where to start."

“You’d be surprised how easy it is. YouTube tutorials, mostly,” you said, shrugging as you wiped your hands on the rag.

The girl smiled. "I might have to try that next time. If I don’t mess up my car in the process.”

You laughed. "That’s what the tutorials are for. But yeah, it’s not too bad. You’d get the hang of it."

As you chatted with the girl for a bit longer, Juno continued to happily soak up the attention. You scratched behind her ears one more time before standing up straight. “Well, good luck with the rest of your walk. Always nice seeing you two.”

“Same here,” the girl replied, tugging gently on Juno’s leash. “C’mon, girl. Let’s get home.”

You waved as they continued down the street, Juno looking back at you with her tail wagging. With a satisfied sigh, you turned back to finish cleaning up, putting away the oil pan and bottles of motor oil.

Across the street, Logan puffed his cigar, watching as you gathered your tools and wiped your hands one more time. Laura had gone back to her sketching, though every now and then she’d glance up at him with that same look.

“She’s done now,” Laura said after a moment, still sketching.

“I can see that,” Logan grumbled, tapping ash off the end of his cigar.

“Still think you should go help,” she added, not even bothering to look up this time.

Logan huffed, staring at you as you double-checked your work and began packing up. He didn’t need to help—you were obviously handling everything just fine. But still, there was something about the way you worked so methodically, so determined. You’d done it all yourself, like you didn’t need anyone’s help. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling, though, that maybe he wanted to offer it anyway.

“Kid, you sure know how to push buttons,” he muttered under his breath.

Laura just smirked, flipping another page in her sketchbook.

Logan grumbled to himself for a moment longer before standing up from his chair, tapping out the last of his cigar in the ashtray. “Stay here.”

He walked across the street toward your driveway, hands in his jacket pockets, his eyes set on you as you knelt by the toolbox, sorting through the remaining tools.

“You done already?” he called out, making his presence known.

You glanced up, not expecting to see him again so soon. “Yeah, just finished up,” you replied, standing up and wiping your hands on the rag again. “What about you? Something break down?”

“Nah, just figured I’d see if you needed any help,” he said, his tone casual, though you could tell it wasn’t exactly his style to offer assistance without a reason.

You raised an eyebrow, smiling a little. “You offering to help after the job’s already done?”

"Guess I am," Logan replied with a hint of a smirk, his eyes not quite meeting yours.

You couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, it's the thought that counts, I suppose. Next time, I’ll be sure to save the hardest part for you."

"Yeah, you do that," he said, his voice gruff but not unfriendly. He shifted his weight slightly, glancing over at the now-finished oil change. "You do this kind of thing often? Or just the oil changes?"

"Mostly just the oil changes," you admitted, as you leaned in closer like you were telling a secret. “I went on a few dates with Mavin’s son the first few months I was here and didn’t go over well. Now he overcharges me.” You held up your hands, “but if it’s something complicated, I promise I drive 30 minutes to the city to get it checked out.”

Logan's eyes flickered with interest, the corners of his mouth twitching into something resembling a smile. "That right? Well, can't say I'm surprised. Mavin's a bit of a jerk."

You chuckled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yeah, he wasn't thrilled about me ghosting his son, that's for sure. But hey, I learned how to change my own oil, so I guess something good came out of it."

Logan grunted in agreement, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He didn't say much after that, his eyes lingering on you as if he were trying to piece together something that didn't quite fit. You had a feeling he wasn't used to people like you—people who seemed to find their way into his life, one way or another.

"Well," you said, breaking the silence, "thanks for the offer, even if the job’s already done." You smiled, a little uncertain about what to do next. "Guess I'll see you around."

He nodded, but didn't make a move to leave. "Laura likes you, you know."

That caught you off guard. "Oh," you replied, a bit flustered. "Well, I like her too. She's a good kid. Smart, but... you already know that."

"Yeah," Logan muttered, his voice softer than usual. "She doesn’t open up to many people. But you... you’re different."

You weren't sure how to respond to that, so you just nodded, feeling an unexpected warmth spread through your chest. "I’m glad she feels comfortable around me. She’s been through a lot."

Logan's eyes darkened slightly, a shadow passing over his features. "More than most," he agreed, his voice rough with something that sounded a lot like guilt.

You wanted to reach out, to say something that might make him feel better, but words failed you. So instead, you just stood there, the silence stretching between you, not awkward but charged with something unspoken.

"Anyway," Logan said, clearing his throat as if to shake off the heavy moment. "If you ever need help with the car, you know where to find me. Or Laura."

You smiled, feeling that warmth again. "I’ll keep that in mind. And if you two ever need help with, I don’t know, math homework or... anything else, you know where to find me."

He nodded, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Noted."

You watched as he turned to leave, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. As he walked back toward his house, you couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something more than just friendly encounters at the store.

---

During lunch, you sat in your classroom, enjoying 30 minutes of peace and quiet before the kids came back into the room. The soft hum of the heater filled the space, making the room feel warmer than usual as you flipped through the stack of quizzes you needed to grade. The formulas and diagrams were a blur as your mind drifted back to the weekend, specifically to Logan.

The way he’d offered to help with your oil change, the quiet moments that had followed—it was so unlike him. Or maybe, you realized, you just didn’t know him well enough yet. Either way, something about it had left you feeling... something.

A soft knock on the doorframe pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up to see Emma standing in the doorway, that cheeky grin on her face.

“So,” she started, stepping inside your classroom. “I hear you’re making friends with a certain someone across the street.”

You rolled your eyes, setting down the quiz you’d been half-grading. “I’m not ‘making friends.’ We just happen to run into each other.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Mhm. Sure. Totally normal for him to come help with your oil change, right?”

"My God, how do you know?" you asked, eyes widening in disbelief as you sat back in your chair.

Emma smirked, leaning against the doorway like she had all the time in the world. "Small town. You know how people talk." She paused, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Besides, you’re not exactly subtle. Logan? The gruff guy across the street? It’s hard to miss that you two have been... running into each other more than usual."

You sighed, rubbing your temple. "It’s not like that. He just offered to help with my car, and Laura—"

Emma’s grin widened. "Ah, Laura. That’s the key, isn’t it? I’ve seen how she looks at you. That kid doesn’t warm up to just anyone. She’s a little... prickly, but with you? She’s different."

"She’s a good kid," you said, trying to deflect. "She’s been through a lot, you know? I just think she needs someone to talk to. Someone who’s not... intimidating."

"Sure, sure," Emma teased, walking further into the room and sitting on the edge of one of the desks. "But you can’t tell me there isn’t something more going on between you and Logan. I mean, come on. He doesn’t exactly strike me as the ‘friendly neighbor’ type. More like ‘leave me alone or I’ll stab you with my claws’ type."

You chuckled despite yourself. "Okay, yeah, he’s not exactly Mr. Rogers. But it’s not like we’re... you know, it’s just—"

"Flirting?" Emma offered with a raised eyebrow.

"Friendly," you corrected quickly, though the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. "It’s just friendly. He’s Laura’s dad, and we’ve talked a few times, but that’s it."

Emma gave you a knowing look. "Uh-huh. Sure. And I’m the Queen of England."

You groaned, pushing your quizzes aside. "Why are you so obsessed with this?"

"Because," Emma said with a shrug, "it’s about time you had a little fun in this town. You spend all your time either at school or working on that garden of yours. You deserve to have a life outside of grading papers and pulling weeds."

"I have a life," you protested.

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Really? And when was the last time you went on a date?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but quickly closed it, realizing you didn’t have a good answer. "Okay, fine," you admitted, "it’s been a while. But that doesn’t mean—"

"Exactly my point," Emma interrupted, flashing a triumphant grin. "Look, I’m not saying you have to marry the guy. But Logan? He’s clearly interested. And I think you are too."

"Okay… even if I was interested, I’m pretty sure a guy like that doesn’t have dating or relationships on his mind. Especially with someone like me." You leaned back in your chair, feeling a mix of frustration and doubt.

Emma gave you a skeptical look, shaking her head. "Someone like you? Come on, Y/N. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re smart, funny, and clearly, Logan thinks you’re worth his time. He’s not just helping anyone with an oil change, believe me."

You sighed, crossing your arms. "It’s not that simple. You know what he’s been through. And Laura... she’s been through so much already. I’m not about to mess with their lives."

Emma smirked, tapping her fingers on the desk. "Mess with their lives? Or make their lives better? Laura clearly likes you, Y/N. She’s practically glued to your side when you’re around. And Logan? He’s different with you. I see it."

You frowned, picking up a pen and twirling it between your fingers. "Laura’s nice to me, yeah. But that doesn’t mean anything. She’s indifferent to most of the other teachers, and she barely talks in class. I don’t even know if she likes me, or if it’s just... I don’t know."

"She doesn’t warm up to just anyone," Emma pointed out. "You’re different. She looks at you like she trusts you, and Logan trusts you too, whether he shows it or not. That’s not something that happens often with them. They’re... well, guarded, for obvious reasons."

You were quiet for a moment, thinking about Laura. It was true—she was quiet, distant with others, but with you? There was something different. She’d even started staying after class sometimes, just sitting there while you graded papers or prepped for the next lesson. And Logan? He was always nearby, watching, but never intruding.

Still, the idea of anything happening between you and Logan felt... complicated. "Even if he did trust me, it’s not like he’s the type to be thinking about relationships. The man’s got enough on his plate. And me? I’ve got work, and... I’m not exactly relationship material."

Emma laughed, shaking her head. "Please, Y/N. If anyone deserves a chance at something real, it’s you. You’ve spent so long taking care of everyone else—your students, your job. Maybe it’s time to let someone take care of you for a change."

You looked at her, skeptical. "You think Logan is the type to 'take care of' someone?"

She smirked. "He already is. He’s just doing it in his own way. And trust me, the way he looks at you? There’s more there than you realize. You just have to stop overthinking it."

Before you could respond, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Emma stood up, giving you one last knowing smile before heading for the door. "Just think about it, Y/N. Sometimes, the best things happen when you least expect them."

You watched her go, your mind still swirling with doubt and a tiny sliver of hope. Could there really be something more between you and Logan? Or was it just your imagination?

As your students started filing back into the room, you pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the rest of the day. But even as you taught your lessons and graded papers, Logan lingered in the back of your mind.

---

Later that evening, you found yourself in the garden, pulling weeds and trying to clear your head. The sun was starting to set, casting a warm orange glow over the small town. You liked this time of day—the quiet, the calm.

Just as you were settling into the rhythm of pulling weeds, you heard footsteps behind you. Turning around, you saw Logan standing there, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his expression as unreadable as ever.

"Need any help?" he asked, his gruff voice breaking the silence.

You blinked, caught off guard. "Uh, with the garden? I’m just pulling weeds."

He shrugged, stepping closer. "Doesn’t hurt to have an extra set of hands."

You smiled, feeling a bit awkward but oddly touched by the offer. "Sure, if you’re up for it."

Logan crouched down next to you, pulling at the weeds without saying much. The two of you worked in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the rustling of plants and the distant hum of traffic.

Eventually, you spoke up, trying to break the tension. "So... Laura’s been doing well in class. She’s quiet, but I think she’s starting to come out of her shell a bit."

Logan glanced at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Yeah? That’s good to hear. She doesn’t talk much at home either."

"She’s a smart kid," you added, pulling another weed. "But I think... she could use someone to talk to. Someone she feels safe with."

Logan was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "She’s been through a lot. Trust doesn’t come easy for her."

You hesitated, then asked, "What about you? Do you feel safe here?"

He looked at you, his expression softening just a little. "Safer than I’ve felt in a long time."

That simple admission hit you harder than you expected. Logan, this gruff, guarded man, was letting his walls down, even just a little. It made your heart ache in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

"That’s good," you said quietly, your eyes meeting his. "I’m glad."

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The quiet between you felt heavy but not uncomfortable. Logan’s presence was grounding, solid in a way that made you feel... safe too.

Finally, he broke the silence. "I appreciate what you’ve done for Laura. She doesn’t trust many people, but with you... it’s different."

You shrugged, trying to downplay it. "I’m just doing my job. She’s a good kid, like I said."

Logan gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. "It’s more than that. She trusts you. And... so do I."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. There was something unspoken in the air between you, something neither of you was ready to address. But it was there, simmering just below the surface.

"Logan, I—"

Before you could finish, he stood up, brushing the dirt off his hands. "Anyway, I’ll let you get back to it."

You stood up too, feeling the weight of what was left unsaid hanging in the air. "Thanks for the help."

He gave a brief nod, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he turned to leave. "Anytime."

As you watched him walk away, your heart was pounding in your chest. There was no denying it now—there was something between you and Logan. Something real. And it scared you just as much as it excited you.

---

Parent-teacher conferences always stressed you out. Gathering all your students’ information, organizing it all, it was hectic and unreasonable. You couldn’t understand why an email didn’t suffice.

Possibly the worst thing about it is the fact it took place in the school gym, which had no AC. The heat was almost unbearable, making your clothes stick to your skin as you shuffled through your notes, waiting for the next parent to arrive to your table.

The gym was packed, parents and their kids moving between tables as they talked to teachers, making the already stifling room feel even hotter. You fanned yourself with the stack of notes you’d organized earlier, feeling sweat prickle at your back.

You glanced at your list of appointments, sighing when you saw who was next: Logan. You hadn't expected him to come. Laura was doing well enough in your class, but she wasn’t exactly the type to care about grades. You figured Logan would be the same—practical, but not overly concerned about school meetings.

You straightened up, glancing around to see him approaching with Laura by his side. She looked slightly uncomfortable, her arms crossed and her gaze focused anywhere but the gym, while Logan was, well... Logan. His expression was gruff, unreadable as usual, but there was something in his eyes that softened when he saw you.

“Ms. Aberra,” Logan greeted as he reached your table, giving you a nod.

“Logan,” you said, smiling at Laura. “And Laura. How are you two doing?”

Laura shrugged, barely meeting your gaze. Logan pulled out the chair for her, and she reluctantly sat down, still quiet. He stayed standing, leaning on the back of the chair, watching you with that familiar intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said lightly, trying to ease the tension. “Laura’s doing fine in class. Really, there’s not much to talk about.”

Logan glanced at Laura, then back at you. “Figured I’d come by anyway. See how things are goin’.”

You nodded, pulling up Laura’s grades on your tablet. “Well, like I said, she’s doing great. She’s one of the best in the class, actually. Quiet, but I can tell she’s always thinking.”

Laura’s face remained impassive, but there was the slightest twitch of a smile at the corner of her lips.

“She’s got potential,” you continued, looking at Logan. “Especially in science. I think she’d be great at anything she wanted to do, honestly.”

Logan grunted in response, but there was a proud glint in his eye. “That’s good to hear.”

Laura finally spoke up, her voice quiet but clear. “I like science. And math.”

You smiled, surprised by her willingness to engage. “Well, you’re really good at it. I was thinking, if you ever wanted, there are some extracurriculars coming up. Science club, math competitions—stuff like that. It might be fun.”

Laura glanced at Logan, who simply shrugged. “Up to you, kid.”

She seemed to think about it for a moment, then nodded slightly. “Maybe.”

“Well, no pressure,” you said, trying to keep it casual. “You can always decide later.”

There was an awkward pause as you flipped through the rest of Laura’s grades, though there wasn’t much else to say. She was excelling, especially considering her background. You couldn’t help but feel a little protective over her, knowing what she’d been through.

“So, uh, anything else you need to know?” you asked, looking back up at Logan.

He shook his head. “Just wanted to check in, make sure she’s on track.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth in his words even if he didn’t show it. “She’s doing great. Really.”

Logan gave you a brief nod, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than necessary before he straightened up. “Thanks.”

You watched as he turned to Laura, ready to leave, but she didn’t stand just yet. Instead, she glanced between the two of you, her brow furrowed slightly like she was piecing something together.

“Are you... friends?” she asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the noise of the gym.

You blinked, taken aback by the question. Logan seemed just as surprised, his eyes widening slightly before he quickly recovered.

“Well,” you said slowly, glancing at Logan for a cue. “I guess you could say that.”

Logan cleared his throat, crossing his arms. “Yeah. Somethin’ like that.”

Laura’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if she didn’t quite believe it but wasn’t going to argue. “Okay.”

She stood up, her chair scraping against the floor as she started toward the exit. Logan hesitated for a moment, giving you one last look before following her. “See you around,” he said, his voice gruff but softer than usual.

You watched them go, feeling that strange mix of emotions again—the warmth, the uncertainty, the possibility of something more. As the door closed behind them, you realized that, for once, you didn’t mind the heat. It was a small town, and people noticed everything. But you were starting to wonder if maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Laura grabbed his hand as they exited the gym, having already seen her other teachers. She looked up at Logan, as he stared straight ahead at the truck in the parking lot. “Creo que ella te gusta.”

He let out a huff, “kid, don’t know how many times I gotta say it, but I don’t know Spanish.”

Laura gave him a sidelong glance, clearly unimpressed by his response. "You should learn," she muttered under her breath, squeezing his hand as they reached the truck.

Logan grunted as he fumbled for the keys, a slight wince crossing his features as he slid into the driver’s seat. He glanced at Laura, who was already buckling herself in without a word. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t quite easy either.

He turned the key in the ignition, the truck sputtering to life as he pulled out of the parking lot. His mind wandered back to the parent-teacher conference, and specifically to Y/N. She’d always been good with Laura, he could see that. But lately, something about her seemed to calm him too—a feeling he wasn’t used to and didn’t quite know how to handle.

“You like her,” Laura said, breaking the silence with her blunt observation. It wasn’t a question.

Logan’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “She’s a good teacher. You like her, too.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Laura said, crossing her arms. “You act different when she’s around. You don’t growl as much.”

Logan let out a low chuckle, though it lacked any real humor. “I don’t growl.”

“Yes, you do,” Laura said, looking out the window. “But not at her.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. Instead, he focused on the road, trying to push away the thoughts circling in his mind. He wasn’t a man used to... feelings, especially not ones that left him unsure. But Y/N had a way of sneaking under his defenses, and that scared him more than he’d like to admit.

“I like her,” Laura said quietly after a long stretch of silence.

Logan glanced at her, surprised by the soft admission. Laura didn’t trust people easily, and she certainly didn’t like many. But her words carried weight, especially to him.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

Laura nodded, still looking out the window. “She’s not like the others. She doesn’t treat me like I’m different.”

Logan felt a knot in his chest loosen, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the relief of knowing Laura had found someone she trusted, or maybe it was the way Y/N had already become a part of their lives, without him even realizing it. Either way, he didn’t say anything more, just drove the rest of the way home in silence, lost in his own thoughts.

---

The next morning, you thanked the stars that it was Saturday. You were exhausted from the large amount of human interaction last night and decided to sleep in a bit before tending to the garden.

After that, and taking a shower, you slipped into comfortable clothes, some small shorts and a large t-shirt that covered the shorts, since it only getting warmer outside.

Even with that said, you couldn’t help but crave chocolate chip cookies, thanking the stars once again that you had all the ingredients.

You turned on the oven, allowing it to pre-heat, as you grabbed a mixing bowl and walked around your small kitchen looking for the ingredients listed on your worn-out piece of paper. You still hadn’t memorized the recipe after making it for years.

The doorbell ringed as you poked your head out the side of your kitchen. When you answered it, you were pleasantly surprised to find Laura outside, wearing what you could only describe as a cute grey shirt with a colorful bear on it. You’d never say it to her, she’d probably leave if you said she looked cute.

“Hey, Laura. D’you need anything?”

“Daddy said I could help with the garden.” She spoke softly.

“Oof, sorry kiddo. Already did it this morning.” You looked back inside your house before turning back to Laura, “though, I could use some help making cookies.”

Laura hesitated for a second, her dark eyes studying you as if trying to decide whether this was worth her time. You were still getting used to her quiet, guarded nature, but you’d learned quickly that she was different around you compared to other people. It was like you had some sort of unspoken understanding, even if you didn’t fully get why.

“Okay,” she finally said, stepping past you into the house.

You closed the door behind her, walking back into the kitchen and grabbing a second mixing bowl. “You ever make cookies before?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at her.

Laura shook her head, standing by the counter as she watched you.

“Well, today’s your lucky day. I’m about to show you the magic of sugar, butter, and chocolate chips.” You grinned as you started measuring out the ingredients. “Can you hand me the brown sugar?”

She scanned the countertop before reaching for the brown sugar, silently passing it to you. You got the feeling she wasn’t used to this kind of thing—normal, mundane stuff like baking cookies on a lazy Saturday. Not that you knew her whole story or anything, but you’d heard enough about Logan and his complicated life to guess Laura hadn’t had a typical upbringing.

As you started mixing the butter and sugar together, you tried to think of something to say. Conversations with Laura could be tricky; she wasn’t the chatty type, and you didn’t want to push her too much.

“So,” you started, keeping your tone casual, “what’s Logan up to today?”

She shrugged. “Resting.”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. Logan resting was a good thing. You knew he’d been having a rough time lately with his health, even though he wasn’t the type to admit it. You figured he was just being stubborn, refusing to slow down even though it was clear his healing wasn’t what it used to be.

Laura remained silent, watching as you added the flour to the mix.

“You wanna stir?” you asked, offering her the spatula.

She looked at it for a moment before stepping closer and taking it from you. Her movements were careful, deliberate, and you couldn’t help but smile as she focused on the task.

“Nice job,” you said, giving her a thumbs-up. “You’ve got a future in cookie-making, I can tell.”

Laura didn’t react much, but you swore you saw the tiniest flicker of amusement in her eyes.

As she stirred, you reached for the chocolate chips. “Best part of making cookies—sneaking a few of these before they go in the dough.” You tossed a couple into your mouth, then held the bag out to her.

She paused, looking at the chocolate chips like she wasn’t sure what to do. After a second, she picked one up and ate it, chewing thoughtfully.

You chuckled. “See? Told you it’s the best part.”

Laura kept stirring the dough while you got the baking sheets ready. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, just… quiet. You didn’t mind it, though. Laura wasn’t the type of kid who needed constant conversation, and you appreciated that about her.

As she worked, you glanced at her again, feeling a strange sense of protectiveness. You didn’t know what exactly she’d been through, but whatever it was, you could tell it had shaped her into someone far older than her years.

When the dough was ready, you started scooping it onto the trays. “Almost done,” you said. “Then it’s just a waiting game while they bake.”

Laura nodded, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she watched you.

You slid the trays into the oven and set the timer before turning back to her. “You want some water or anything while we wait?”

She shook her head, her eyes still on the oven like she was trying to figure out why people made such a big deal out of cookies.

“Well, I’m grabbing a drink.” You poured yourself a glass of water, leaning against the counter as you sipped. “It’ll take around 12 minutes for them to finish. Then we put in another batch, and another until the dough has all been used.”

Laura gave a small nod, her eyes still focused on the oven. It was like she was trying to figure out if all this waiting was actually worth it.

You studied her for a moment, wondering what was going on in that head of hers. She never really said much, but it was clear there was a lot happening behind those dark, watchful eyes. You weren’t exactly sure why she’d taken to you, but you were grateful for it. Laura didn’t let many people in, that much was obvious.

“I can show you a movie. Or maybe some music? I usually play somethin’ while I wait.”

Laura glanced up at you, her brow furrowing slightly. “Music,” she said quietly.

You smiled, glad she was at least open to that. “Cool. Let’s see what we got.” You pulled out your phone and scrolled through your playlist, landing on something mellow, nothing too upbeat or distracting. You hit play, letting the soft sounds of a guitar fill the room.

Laura leaned against the counter, listening, her arms crossed over her chest. She wasn’t fidgety or impatient, just quiet, like she was absorbing everything around her.

You took another sip of water, watching her from the corner of your eye. “You ever help Logan with stuff like this? Like cooking?”

She shook her head. “No.”

You figured as much. “Well, if he ever asks, you’ll be a pro now.” You winked at her, earning the tiniest of shrugs in return.

You both stood there in a comfortable silence, letting the music play. It wasn’t awkward, just… peaceful. The smell of the cookies starting to bake filled the kitchen, and for a moment, it was easy to forget all the heavy stuff hanging in the air—Logan’s health, Laura’s past, whatever weight she carried that you didn’t fully understand yet.

After a few minutes, Laura spoke up. “I talked to Logan about you… last night.”

You paused, surprised she’d bring it up. “Oh yeah? What’d he say?”

She didn’t answer right away, her gaze fixed on the oven. “He said you’re... different from other people. In a good way.”

A warmth crept into your chest at that. “Well, that’s nice of him to say. I think he’s pretty different too, you know. In a good way.”

Laura looked at you, her expression unreadable. “He likes you,” she said, her tone flat, but there was something in the way she said it, like it was a fact she was still processing.

You felt your cheeks heat up a little. “Yeah? Well… I like him too.”

She stared at you for a moment longer before nodding slowly, like she was piecing something together in her head. “He doesn’t trust people. But he trusts you.”

You swallowed, not quite sure how to respond to that. “I’m glad he does. I mean… I care about him, Laura. And you too.”

Laura’s eyes flickered with something—maybe understanding, maybe something else you couldn’t quite name. She didn’t say anything for a while, just looked down at the floor.

Before the silence could stretch too long, the oven timer beeped, cutting through the moment.

“Cookies are done,” you said, turning to grab the oven mitts. You pulled the trays out, setting them on the counter to cool. The smell was even stronger now, warm and sweet, filling the entire kitchen. “Wanna taste test one?”

Laura hesitated for a second before nodding.

You carefully lifted a cookie from the tray, holding it out to her. “Careful, it’s hot.”

She took it, blowing on it before taking a small bite. You watched as she chewed, her face still neutral, but you could tell she liked it.

“Good, right?” you asked, biting into one yourself.

Laura nodded again, chewing slowly. For a split second, you thought you saw a hint of a smile tug at the corner of her mouth, but it was gone just as quickly as it came.

As you both stood there, munching on cookies, the air felt lighter, like some kind of invisible barrier between you had shifted just a little. You didn’t know all of Laura’s story, but you didn’t need to. What mattered was that she was here, sharing this small moment with you, and that was enough.

“So,” you said after a few minutes, breaking the silence. “What should we do next? More cookies? Or maybe try out that movie?”

Laura looked at the remaining dough, then back at you. “More cookies.”

You grinned. “Good choice. Let’s make this batch even better.”

---

After all the cookies came out of the oven, you sent Laura home with a container of some of the batch. You could never eat them all on your own, and you ended up giving some away anyways, so why not give some to Laura?

You walked Laura to your front door and watched as she crossed the street, her figure disappearing behind the door three houses down. There was always something surreal about the way she moved—so quiet, so controlled, like she had learned to blend into the background. It made you wonder what her life had been like before coming here.

When Laura walked in, the container held tightly to her chest, Logan sat on the couch, the soft murmur of the TV barely audible as he sipped from a whiskey bottle. His eyes flicked over to her as the door clicked shut behind her.

“You were gone a while,” he muttered, his voice rough but not harsh.

Laura shrugged, walking past him toward the kitchen. “Made cookies.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, watching her disappear from view. The faint clinking of a container hitting the counter reached his ears. He knew she didn’t do stuff like this unless someone dragged her into it. “With Y/N?” he asked, taking another sip.

Laura reappeared, nodding as she plopped down beside him on the couch, the container of cookies now on the coffee table.

Logan stared at it for a moment, then gave a small grunt of approval. He reached over and grabbed a cookie from the container, breaking off a piece and popping it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, savoring the sweetness that felt out of place in his usual world of bitterness and whiskey.

“Not bad,” he muttered, glancing at Laura. “You help with these?”

She shrugged again, still watching the TV, but there was a hint of satisfaction in her expression that didn’t go unnoticed by Logan.

“Hmm,” he grunted, leaning back. “Maybe next time, you can bring some whiskey to wash ‘em down.”

Laura didn’t smile, but her lips twitched slightly as if she was trying not to.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, the low hum of the TV filling the room. Logan’s thoughts drifted back to Y/N. He didn’t trust people easily—never had, and probably never would. But Y/N was different. He’d seen how she handled Laura, how she didn’t push too hard or ask too many questions. And she was patient, something Logan knew he didn’t have much of.

“Y/N’s a good one,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

Laura didn’t say anything, but she shifted slightly, leaning her head against the arm of the couch.

Logan watched her for a moment, then sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. He knew settling down wasn’t really in his nature, but for Laura’s sake—and maybe a bit for his own—he was trying. And Y/N? She made that easier, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“She ask about me?” Logan asked, more curious than he wanted to let on.

Laura nodded, her eyes still on the screen. “Yeah. I told her you were resting.”

Logan snorted. “Resting. That’s a nice way of putting it.”

Laura didn’t respond, and Logan didn’t push further. He knew what Y/N probably thought—that he was just some grumpy guy with a limp, maybe a few too many scars for comfort. She didn’t know the half of it. But she didn’t pry either, and for that, he was grateful.

“Guess I’ll have to thank her for the cookies,” Logan said after a while, taking another sip from the bottle. His mind wandered to the thought of Y/N—the way she smiled when she was around Laura, how she always seemed to have the right balance of patience and understanding. It wasn’t just anyone who could handle a kid like Laura, let alone make her feel comfortable enough to bake cookies on a Saturday.

“She likes you too, you know,” Laura said suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet.

Logan’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Y/N,” Laura clarified, her tone as flat as ever. “She likes you.”

Logan chuckled, though there was a bit of discomfort behind it. “You don’t know that, kid.”

Laura looked at him, her gaze piercing and a little too wise for someone her age. “She does. I can tell.”

Logan stared back at her, caught off guard by how matter-of-fact she sounded. It was hard to argue with Laura when she had that look on her face, the same look that said she saw through everything and didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

He cleared his throat, trying to brush it off. “Yeah, well… that’s her problem, not mine.”

Laura didn’t react, just turned back to the TV. But Logan could feel her eyes on him for a few seconds longer before she settled back into the cushions.

Logan shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of Laura’s words hanging in the air. He wasn’t used to people ‘liking’ him in the way Laura seemed to imply. People tolerated him, sure, maybe even respected him, but liking him? That was new territory.

He let out a sigh and reached for another cookie. It wasn’t worth thinking about. Not right now.

But even as he chewed in silence, he couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N—and what it might mean if Laura was right.

---

A few days later, you found yourself at Logan’s house helping Laura with some of her English homework. You usually don’t make ‘house calls’ to help students, but you couldn’t deny Laura.

Logan stayed seated in the living room, drinking a beer and watching the TV. But really, he was pretending not to listen to their conversation in the kitchen.

“You’re doing good, Laura.” You said.

Laura shrugged, her eyes flicking over to Logan in the living room. “Can you stay for dinner?” She asked you.

Logan’s head snapped up at that. He hadn’t expected Laura to ask, but there was no denying that the kid had gotten attached to you. Before you could answer, Laura added, “I made something. With Logan.”

That was a lie, of course. Laura had barely touched the stove since the cookies, but she gave Logan a look that told him to back her up.

Y/N smiled softly. “I wouldn’t say no to dinner.” She glanced at Logan. “If that’s okay?”

Logan grunted, shifting his weight. “Yeah. ‘Course.”

Laura gave a small nod, clearly satisfied with the answer. You smiled, pushing the papers aside. “Guess I’m staying for dinner, then.”

Logan shot Laura a look, one that said what exactly are we eating? but she ignored him, turning her attention back to you. “It’s nothing fancy,” she said, which wasn’t reassuring.

“Well, I’m excited. Food always tastes better when someone else cooks it,” you joked, standing up to stretch your arms.

Logan watched you from the corner of his eye as he sat back down on the couch, pretending to be more interested in the muted TV than he actually was. You couldn’t help but notice the way he seemed a little tenser whenever you were around, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. He was trying to stay low-key, but you could tell he was keeping tabs on every move you made, every word you said.

“So, what’s on the menu?” you asked, trying to ease the quiet that had settled over the room.

Laura, sitting across from you, didn’t answer right away, like she was carefully considering her next move. Logan’s eyes flicked over to her, waiting for her response.

“Spaghetti,” she finally said, her voice as flat as ever.

You raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smile. “Oh yeah? Sounds good.”

Logan gave a low grunt from the couch, and you could tell by his expression that he was trying to figure out when they’d supposedly made spaghetti. But he didn’t contradict Laura, just took another swig from his beer.

“Well, I’m looking forward to it,” you said, standing up from the kitchen table. “Let me know if you need any help.”

Laura didn’t say anything, just headed to the stove where a pot of water was already simmering. You followed her, glancing at the nearly-empty box of spaghetti on the counter. It was clear she hadn’t done this a lot, but the effort was what mattered. And if it meant spending more time with her—and Logan—you weren’t about to complain.

“I’ll get the sauce going,” you offered, stepping beside her. Laura gave you a slight nod, sliding over to make room.

Logan watched from the couch, his eyes narrowing as if he was weighing the situation. He hadn’t expected you to just roll with it, but then again, you always had a way of adapting.

“So, how’s school?” you asked Laura, trying to keep the conversation light while you opened the jar of sauce.

“It’s fine,” she said, her tone noncommittal.

You stirred the sauce, giving a little shrug. “Well, if you ever need help with any other type of homework, you know where to find me.”

She glanced up at you, her expression unreadable, but something in her eyes softened for a second. “I know.”

The two of you worked in quiet sync, with Laura focusing on the pasta and you keeping an eye on the sauce. It wasn’t long before the kitchen started to smell of tomatoes and garlic, the scent filling the air and making the small space feel cozy. For a while, the only sounds were the bubbling pot and the clinking of utensils.

Logan shifted on the couch, clearing his throat. “Need me to do anything?”

You glanced back at him with a smile. “Just sit there and look pretty, Logan. We’ve got this.”

A low chuckle escaped him, though his face didn’t change much. “That so?”

Laura glanced at Logan, her expression unreadable, but you caught the briefest hint of approval in her eyes before she turned back to stirring the pasta.

Once everything was ready, you and Laura brought the food to the small dining table. You plated up the spaghetti, topping it with sauce and a sprinkle of Parmesan. Logan joined you both, moving slower than he probably realized, and sat down with a grunt.

As you all ate, the room stayed comfortably quiet. It wasn’t one of those forced silences that felt awkward—it was more like everyone was just settling into the moment. Laura was still guarded, but you could tell she was starting to relax, even if it was just a little.

“You did good, Laura,” you said, twirling some spaghetti on your fork. “This tastes great.”

She didn’t say anything, just kept eating, but you saw her shoulders ease up ever so slightly.

Logan, on the other hand, glanced between the two of you, chewing slowly. He hadn’t been big on cooking or anything domestic like this, but he could tell Laura had put in effort. He took another bite, grunting his approval. “Not bad,” he said quietly.

You smiled to yourself. This whole thing wasn’t exactly what you’d planned for the evening, but it was nice in its own way—just simple, like normal people having dinner together.

As you were finishing up, Logan pushed his chair back, grabbing his beer bottle from the table. “I’ll handle the cleanup,” he said, his voice gruff but not unkind.

You raised an eyebrow, standing to gather a few plates. “You sure?”

Logan waved you off. “Yeah. Laura and I got it.”

You nodded, stepping back. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it then.”

Laura watched you quietly, her dark eyes flicking between you and Logan. You could tell she wasn’t used to this kind of thing, the casual ease of sharing a meal and cleaning up afterward. But she was learning, and it seemed like she didn’t mind having you around for it.

“Well,” you said, grabbing your bag from the chair. “Thanks for dinner, you two. I’ll see you around?”

Logan grunted in acknowledgment, giving you a nod. Laura followed you to the door, her small figure standing by your side as you reached for the handle.

Before you could leave, she spoke up. “Will you come over again?” Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

You smiled softly. “Of course. Anytime.”

She nodded, her face still unreadable, but there was a certain calmness to her now, a trust that hadn’t been there before.

You gave her a little wave before stepping out into the evening air. As you walked back to your house, you couldn’t help but think about how unexpected this had all been.

---

You muttered to yourself, hanging up the phone. Your sink had started to leak, and even though you were fairly handy, when you tightened the pipes, it did nothing.

So here you were, on your lunch break, looking for a handyman that didn’t want to charge you $200 for a quick fix.

Emma walked in, holding a folder with her lesson plans. “So…”

You rolled your eyes, “don’t start.”

“What! I’ve told you, word travels fast. Rose saw you leavin’ his house last night.”

“Rose?” You shook your head, “that woman is 85 and still gossips like she’s 20.” You put your phone down, “I was helping Laura with her English homework.”

"Helping Laura with her English homework?" Emma raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "You mean, at ten o'clock at night? Sure, Y/N."

You groaned, leaning back in your chair. “It wasn’t like that. She’s struggling with some of the writing prompts, and Logan’s... well, you know he’s not exactly the best person for that.”

“Uh-huh,” Emma nodded slowly, setting her folder down. “I’m just saying, you and him… there’s something there. You can deny it all you want, but people see things.”

“People need hobbies,” you muttered. “Besides, Logan’s... complicated. It’s not that simple.”

“I’m not saying it is,” she shrugged. “But you’ve been spending more and more time with him and Laura lately. I’m just curious.”

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at her. “Curious about what, exactly?”

“Just curious when you're going to admit you like him,” Emma smirked.

“I don’t—" you started to argue, but stopped yourself. “Emma, he’s… I mean, I care about him, but it’s not like that. He’s a single dad with a kid, and I’m just the neighbor who helps out sometimes.”

“Yeah, sure, Y/N.” Emma grabbed her folder and gave you a pointed look, “if you don’t make a move, someone on the ‘Wolverine Watchers’ will.”

You choked on the iced coffee you took a sip of, “the what?”

Emma grinned, “the ‘Wolverine Watchers’. A bunch of women in the town created a Facebook group about him. I joined out of curiosity.”

You blinked at Emma, still processing what she’d just said. “Hold on—there’s a Facebook group about Logan? Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” Emma said with a smug smile. “They call themselves the ‘Wolverine Watchers.’ There’s, like, at least 30 women in it. Maybe more.”

You shook your head in disbelief, sinking back into your chair. “That’s insane. Why would anyone even...”

“Oh, please,” Emma interrupted. “Don’t act like you don’t get it. He’s rugged, mysterious, barely speaks to anyone, and he’s got the whole grumpy-silver-fox thing going on. They eat it up. Hell, even I get it.”

You glared at her. “You’re not helping.”

She leaned against the desk, still grinning. “Just saying, don’t wait too long, or one of them might swoop in.”

You waved her off, though a part of you felt oddly defensive about the whole thing. “Logan’s not interested in any of that.”

Emma shrugged, pushing off the desk and heading for the door. “Maybe. Maybe not. But are you interested?”

You opened your mouth to respond before shaking your head. “Okay. I’m going to forget this part of our conversation and continue to try and look for a plumber or handyman.”

Emma laughed, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Fine, fine. But if you need help with Logan or plumbing, you know where to find me.”

She left the room at the same time Laura walked in. She walked over to the front of your desk and stared at you with those eyes of hers. “You need help?” Laura finally asked.

You shook your head, “no. Just need a plumber. The sink in my kitchen is leakin’.”

Laura tilted her head slightly, considering something. “Why don’t you ask daddy?”

You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Because your dad’s busy, and it’s not his problem to deal with. I’ll figure it out.”

“He fixed the dishwasher last week,” she pointed out quietly, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “And the dryer.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to bother him with stuff like this,” you countered, trying to ignore how her face lit up every time she mentioned something Logan had done for you. “I’m sure he’s got enough on his plate.”

Laura didn’t respond right away. Instead, she leaned against your desk, her small fingers tapping lightly on the wood. “He likes helping,” she murmured, almost like she was testing the waters.

You looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, but quickly glanced away, pretending to focus on the bulletin board behind you. “He’s good at fixing things.”

You watched her for a moment, your irritation from earlier starting to melt away. It was hard to stay frustrated when she was being so earnest. “Okay, okay, I get it. But your dad doesn’t need to be the town’s go-to handyman.”

Laura glanced up at you through her lashes. “Just tell him. Please?”

There was something almost… hopeful in her gaze, and you felt a twinge of guilt. Laura wasn’t the type to ask for much. If this meant that much to her…

“Fine,” you sighed, holding up your hands in surrender. “I’ll ask him. But only because you asked nicely.”

Laura’s lips twitched in the faintest smile, a look of victory crossing her face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, but you’re not off the hook yet,” you teased gently. “You still owe me an essay on Newton’s laws of motion, remember?”

She scrunched up her nose, making a face. “I know. I’ll finish it.”

“Good,” you nodded, giving her a playful wink. “And don’t go trying to bribe me with homework just to get me to talk to your dad, okay?”

Laura’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “I would never.”

“Uh-huh,” you said skeptically. “Alright, head back to class. Lunch is almost over.”

She gave a small nod, then glanced back at you before leaving. “He really likes you, you know.”

Your heart stuttered, caught off guard by her bluntness. “Laura—”

“Just saying,” she added quickly before ducking out the door and heading down the hallway.

You stared at the empty doorway, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest. Liking you? What did that even mean coming from an eleven-year-old?

You shook your head, trying to push the thought away. Logan was… well, Logan. Gruff, quiet, and often impossible to read. And sure, he’d been more present lately, but that didn’t mean anything. He was just being a good neighbor.

You glanced at the time on your phone, groaning softly. Lunch was almost over, and you hadn’t even finished setting up for the afternoon class.

“Guess I’ll ask him about the sink,” you muttered under your breath, more to convince yourself than anything.

Because if Laura was already noticing things, how long would it be before the whole town started talking?

---

That evening, after school had ended and you’d finally managed to get through the rest of your lesson plans, you found yourself standing in front of Logan’s place. It was only a short walk down the street, and yet, your feet felt heavier with each step.

You could hear the faint sound of a TV through the open window and the soft murmur of voices—Laura and Logan, probably talking about her day. It was… nice. Domestic. Something that made your chest tighten with an inexplicable emotion.

“Just ask about the sink and go,” you whispered to yourself, giving a firm nod. “No big deal.”

You knocked lightly, and a few seconds later, the door swung open to reveal Logan. He was in his usual attire—flannel shirt, jeans—and he looked at you with that same unreadable expression.

“Hey,” you said, suddenly feeling awkward under his gaze. “I, uh, wanted to ask for a favor.”

His brow furrowed slightly, and he stepped back, gesturing for you to come inside. “What’s goin’ on?”

You hesitated, then took a deep breath. “My kitchen sink started leaking, and… well, I tried fixing it, but I think I made it worse. Laura said you’re good at this kind of stuff, so I thought… maybe…”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You want me to take a look at it?”

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly. “If you’re not too busy. I don’t want to—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, already grabbing a toolbox from a nearby shelf. “Let’s go.”

You blinked. “Wait, you don’t want to, like, finish dinner or something first?”

He shot you a look that was almost amused. “I’m not gonna let your kitchen flood because of a sink. C’mon.”

You let out a small laugh, relieved by his reaction. “Okay, fair point. Thanks, Logan.”

“No problem,” he grunted, stepping out onto the porch. “Lead the way.”

As you walked back to your place, you stole a glance at him. Logan might have been gruff and intimidating to most people, but you���d come to learn there was more to him than that.

When you reached your house, Logan set to work immediately, inspecting the pipes under the sink. You leaned against the counter, watching as he tinkered and adjusted, his movements methodical and precise.

“You didn’t have to come over right away,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “I know you’ve got a lot going on.”

He didn’t look up, just shrugged. “It’s fine. Better to fix it now than let it get worse.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you murmured. “But still… thanks.”

Logan glanced at you then, his eyes lingering for a moment longer than usual. “You don’t gotta thank me every time I do somethin’ for you, Y/N.”

“I know,” you replied, offering a small smile. “But I want to.”

He gave a low grunt, something between acknowledgment and dismissal, and returned his focus to the pipes. You stayed silent, watching him work, trying to make yourself useful by occasionally handing him a tool or holding a flashlight.

“You’ve done this before, huh?” you asked, breaking the silence again.

Logan didn’t look up, but you saw the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Couple times.”

“Fixing sinks?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Or just everything?”

“Everything,” he muttered. “You learn to handle stuff when no one else can.”

There was an unspoken weight behind his words, something you didn’t pry into. You knew Logan had been through more than he let on—there were pieces of his life you still hadn’t put together, and you weren’t sure you ever would. But that didn’t stop you from being curious.

Instead, you chose to keep the conversation light. “Well, I appreciate it. I probably would’ve made a bigger mess if I’d kept trying.”

He grunted again, this time almost in agreement, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Okay, I walked into that one,” you admitted. “But seriously, thank you. Laura was right—you are good at this.”

Logan tightened the last pipe and stood, wiping his hands on a rag. “She talks too much sometimes.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “She’s just proud of you.”

He didn’t respond, his eyes darkening for a brief moment before he shifted the subject. “It’s done. Shouldn’t leak anymore, but if it does, just call me.”

You nodded, feeling that strange tightening in your chest again. “Got it. Thanks again.”

Logan grabbed his toolbox and started for the door, but something in the air between you both felt unfinished, like there was something unspoken hanging there. Before you could second-guess yourself, you called out.

“Logan?”

He paused, his back to you.

“I meant what I said earlier,” you continued, a little more quietly this time. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, and I don’t want to add to it. But I appreciate you helping me.”

Logan turned, his gaze locking onto yours. There was something in his eyes—something you couldn’t quite place. For a second, you thought he might say something, but then he just gave a slow nod.

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N,” he finally said. “If you need somethin’, I’ll be around.”

He turned and walked out the door, leaving you standing in your kitchen, staring after him. You exhaled, feeling a mix of confusion and warmth.

Later that evening, as you cleaned up and prepared for the next day’s lessons, you couldn’t stop replaying the interaction in your head. Logan’s quietness, his willingness to help, Laura’s knowing smiles. There was something stirring there, something more than just neighborly concern.

But you pushed the thoughts aside, reminding yourself of the practicalities. Logan was a single dad with a complicated past, and you… well, you had your own life to focus on. This wasn’t the time to start overthinking things.

Still, as you drifted off to sleep that night, the image of Logan fixing your sink—focused, calm, and oddly comforting—stayed with you.

---

You’ve never liked storms. You’re not sure why, you grew up in Houston where it rained consistently and encountered a few hurricanes.

But when you turned 18, you went to college further north in Texas, getting away from the rain and finally getting sunshine and real heat, not humid heat.

It never rained much in the north of Minnesota, but when it did rain, it rained a lot. So much so that the school cancelled classes for the rest of the week.

You could use the time to catch up on grading assignments, but instead you found yourself barely able to keep your attention on the TV, flinching every time you heard thunder.

The storm outside raged on, lightning flashing every few seconds, followed by the rumble of thunder that rattled the windows. You glanced at the stack of papers you’d set aside to grade, but your mind just wasn’t in it.

“Why does it always feel worse at night?” you muttered, sinking deeper into the couch, trying to focus on the TV.

Then, a knock at the door startled you. You weren’t expecting anyone, especially with the weather this bad.

You got up, hesitating for a second before opening the door to reveal Laura, soaked from head to toe, holding a small flashlight.

“Laura? What are you doing out here?” you asked, eyes wide with concern.

“Our power went out,” she explained quickly, shivering slightly. “Daddy said I could come over here since your lights are still on.”

You frowned, glancing past her toward Logan’s house, which was barely visible in the heavy rain. “Is your dad coming over too?”

Laura shrugged, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “He said he’d figure it out.”

You closed the door behind her, grabbing a towel from the bathroom and handing it to her. “You should’ve just called, you know. I would’ve come to get you.”

Laura gave you a small smile as she dried off. “It’s fine. I didn’t want to wait.”

You shook your head, unable to suppress a smile at her stubbornness. “Of course you didn’t.”

The two of you sat in the living room for a while, Laura settling into the corner of the couch with her legs tucked under her, still glancing out the window at the storm every so often.

“How long’s the power been out?” you asked after a few minutes.

“Since just after dinner,” she replied. “Daddy was gonna try and fix it, but he said it might take a while.”

You nodded, already feeling a little guilty. If the power didn’t come back on soon, you’d probably end up with both of them staying over. Not that you minded, but it was one of those situations where you didn’t want to impose. Especially with Logan.

Almost on cue, there was another knock at the door, this one heavier, more deliberate.

You didn’t even have to look to know it was Logan.

You opened the door to find him standing there, drenched like Laura had been. His hair was plastered to his head, and his usual gruff expression was softened slightly by the rain dripping from his face.

“Come on in,” you said quickly, stepping aside.

Logan entered, shaking off some of the rain before giving you a nod. “Thanks. Power’s out, and I don’t think it’s comin’ back anytime soon.”

You closed the door behind him and offered him a towel, which he accepted without a word. He glanced over at Laura, who had made herself comfortable on the couch, and then back at you.

“You alright with us bein’ here?” he asked, his voice low but genuine.

“Of course,” you replied, waving it off. “I’m not gonna let you sit in the dark with no heat.”

Logan nodded, though there was something in his eyes—something like gratitude, though he didn’t voice it.

The three of you sat in the living room for a while, the storm still raging outside. It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable silence, but it wasn’t awkward either. Just... quiet. Logan wasn’t one for small talk, and Laura seemed content just to be around people, her gaze flicking back and forth between you and her dad.

As the night wore on, the storm didn’t let up, and Laura’s eyelids started to droop. You glanced at the clock, noting how late it was getting.

“You’re welcome to stay the night,” you offered, glancing between them. “It’s still coming down pretty hard out there, and I don’t think the power’s coming back on soon.”

Laura perked up at the suggestion, but Logan hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. “We’ll be fine,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t wanna impose.”

“You’re not imposing,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “There’s a guest bedroom, and I’ve got blankets. Besides, I’m not letting either of you walk back in this mess.”

Laura, sensing her opportunity, chimed in before Logan could object. “I want to stay,” she said quietly, her eyes big and hopeful.

Logan sighed, glancing at his daughter, clearly torn. “Laura…”

“Daddy, it’s still storming,” she added, her voice soft but insistent. “We can stay, right?”

You jumped in before he could refuse. “It’s no trouble, Logan. Really. Laura can take the guest bedroom, and I can sleep on the couch.”

Logan gave you a skeptical look. “You’re not sleepin’ on the couch in your own house.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s your bed,” he grunted. “I’ll take the couch.”

Before you could argue, Laura piped up again, her voice full of innocent mischief. “You could both sleep in the bed.”

Your eyes widened, and you quickly glanced at Logan, whose expression had shifted to one of slight surprise.

“Laura,” you started, but she just shrugged, clearly enjoying this more than she should have been.

“What?” she said innocently. “It’s a big bed.”

Logan sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re not helpin’, kid.”

Laura just grinned, her eyes gleaming with quiet victory. “I think I am.”

You cleared your throat, trying to regain control of the situation. “I’m fine with sleepin’ on the couch, really. Can’t really sleep when it’s stormin’ anyways.”

Laura, still lounging on the couch, piped up again, her grin growing wider. “You could just share the bed.”

Your face flushed, and you shot her a look. “Laura—”

“What?” She shrugged, playing innocent, but you could see the hint of mischief in her eyes.

Logan sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Kid, stop messin’ around.”

She held up her hands in surrender, but the teasing smile on her face didn’t budge. “I’m just saying it’s an option.”

You shook your head, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement. “Laura, you’re gonna sleep in the guest room. I’ll be on the couch. End of story.”

Laura rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. “Fine.”

Logan glanced at you, his eyes softening for a brief moment before he muttered, “You sure about this? I don’t wanna take your bed.”

You waved him off, trying to sound casual. “Seriously, it’s no big deal. Just get some rest. You’ve been out in the rain long enough.”

He hesitated for a second, then gave a small nod. “Alright. But only because you won’t stop arguin’.”

“Exactly,” you said, smiling a little as you grabbed an extra blanket from the hallway closet and tossed it to Laura. “You can get settled in the guest room, kiddo.”

Laura caught the blanket and headed toward the guest room with a little bounce in her step, clearly pleased with how things were turning out. You watched her disappear down the hallway before turning back to Logan, who was still standing in the living room, looking somewhat out of place.

“You can leave your wet clothes by the door if you want,” you offered, trying to keep things normal, even though the situation felt anything but.

Logan gave a quiet grunt of acknowledgment, pulling off his soaked jacket and hanging it on the back of a chair. He moved slowly, like he was still debating whether to argue about the sleeping arrangements again, but thankfully, he didn’t.

After a minute, he glanced back at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You really are stubborn, you know that?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Takes one to know one.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he walked past you toward your bedroom. “Fair enough.”

Once he disappeared into the room, you let out a small sigh, running a hand through your hair. This was... not how you expected your night to go. Sharing your house with both Logan and Laura during a storm, with Laura sneakily playing matchmaker. It was almost funny, if not for the fact that Logan being this close made your heart race a little too much for comfort.

You settled back onto the couch, pulling a blanket over yourself and staring at the TV screen without really watching it. The sound of rain pounding against the windows and the occasional crack of thunder filled the quiet, but it was hard to focus on the storm when you knew Logan was in the next room.

Laura had probably planned this all along.

You glanced toward the hallway where the guest room was, wondering if she was already asleep—or if she was lying there, scheming her next move.

Thunder broke you out of your thoughts, making you flinch slightly under the blankets.

You settled deeper into the couch, but sleep wasn’t coming any easier despite the exhaustion from the day. Your mind kept wandering, mostly back to Logan and how natural it had started to feel having him and Laura around. Maybe a little too natural.

A sharp crack of thunder rattled the windows, and you flinched again, instinctively pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. You’d thought you were getting used to storms, but this one was relentless, dragging on with no signs of easing up.

Just when you started to think you’d be up all night, you heard the soft creak of the floorboards behind you. You turned, expecting to see Laura coming out of the guest room, but instead, Logan stood there in the dim light of the living room, looking as uncomfortable as you felt.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked, your voice quiet but steady, despite the storm.

He shrugged, leaning against the doorway. “Not used to sleepin’ anywhere but my own bed.”

You nodded, biting back a knowing smile. “Yeah, I get that. Storm’s not helping much either.”

Logan’s eyes flicked to the window, then back to you. His gaze was a little softer than usual, like the storm had taken some of the edge off his usual roughness. “You alright? Heard you jumpin’ every time the thunder hits.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to brush off his concern. “It’s nothing. Just... not a fan of storms.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Logan said, stepping further into the room. He hesitated for a moment, then moved to sit on the armrest of the couch, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “Don’t have to tough it out, y’know.”

You looked up at him, caught off guard by the gentleness in his tone. It wasn’t like Logan to be this open, to offer any sort of comfort. He usually kept things buried under layers of gruffness and distance.

“Guess I’m just used to toughing it out,” you said softly, offering him a small smile.

Logan studied you for a moment, his eyes flicking over your face, like he was weighing his next words carefully. “You don’t always have to. Not with us.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. You weren’t sure what to say. This side of Logan—the quiet, protective side—was something you’d only seen glimpses of before, but tonight, it was like the storm had brought down some of his walls.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” you finally said, but your voice lacked its usual conviction.

“Not worryin’,” Logan replied, his gaze steady. “Just statin’ a fact.”

The thunder rolled again, quieter this time, as if the storm was finally starting to let up. Logan’s eyes lingered on you for a beat longer, before he stood up, looking like he was about to head back to the bedroom.

But then he paused, glancing over his shoulder. “If you want... there’s room in the bed.”

Your breath hitched, and you blinked up at him, not sure if you heard him right. “What?”

Logan’s lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile, but his expression remained serious. “I ain’t suggestin’ what Laura was earlier,” he muttered, a little embarrassed. “Just... if it helps you sleep better, I don’t mind. Couch’s not exactly comfortable.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, caught off guard by the unexpected offer. Logan wasn’t the type to offer comfort lightly, and the idea of sharing a bed with him—platonically or not—made your pulse quicken.

“I—” You faltered, unsure how to respond. But something in the way he was looking at you made it clear this wasn’t just about the storm or being polite. This was about something more—something that had been quietly building between the two of you for a while now.

Before you could overthink it, you nodded. “Okay.”

Logan’s eyebrows raised slightly, surprised by your answer. He stepped aside as you stood, grabbing the blanket from the couch. Neither of you said anything as you walked down the hallway to your bedroom, the tension thick but not uncomfortable—more like an understanding had settled between you.

Once inside, Logan shifted awkwardly as you took your side of the bed, pulling the blanket over yourself, trying to act like this was normal, like your heart wasn’t racing in your chest. Logan laid down on the opposite side, keeping a respectful distance, though the bed felt smaller with him in it.

The sound of the rain outside softened, though the occasional rumble of thunder still rolled in the distance. You stared at the ceiling, hyper-aware of Logan beside you, the space between you feeling charged.

“You good?” Logan asked after a minute, his voice low in the quiet.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m good.”

A beat passed. Then another.

“Thanks,” you added, not just for offering the bed, but for being there, for not making this weird.

Logan turned his head slightly to look at you, his eyes soft in the dim light. “Ain’t nothin’.”

But it was something. It was a lot, actually.

You both lay there in silence for a while, the sound of the rain becoming almost soothing. You could feel the warmth of him next to you, solid and reassuring, and slowly, the tightness in your chest began to ease.

Just as your eyes started to drift closed, Logan’s voice broke the silence again, so quiet you almost missed it.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he murmured, his voice gruff but sincere. “You don’t have to do this on your own. Not with us around.”

Your heart swelled, a mix of emotions you weren’t quite ready to confront just yet. You didn’t know what to say, so instead, you reached out, your hand brushing against his in the small space between you.

Logan didn’t pull away. Instead, his fingers curled gently around yours, his grip warm and steady.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you fell asleep without flinching at the sound of thunder.

---

You woke up to the sound of soft rain pattering against the window, the storm from last night finally easing up. For a second, you forgot where you were, until you felt the weight of the blanket and the warmth of another presence next to you. Logan. His steady breathing filled the quiet space, and you shifted slightly, careful not to wake him.

This was new.

You glanced over at him, his face relaxed in sleep, the tension he usually carried nowhere to be found. It was strange seeing him like this—calm, almost peaceful. You could feel the residual warmth from his hand where he’d held yours last night, and the memory made your chest tighten.

Carefully, you slipped out of bed, not wanting to disturb the rare moment of quiet. You padded out into the hallway, stopping by Laura’s room to peek in. She was still asleep, wrapped up in blankets, her small body barely a lump under the covers.

You smiled to yourself, already suspecting that she had something to do with last night’s sleeping arrangements. Laura was too clever for her own good sometimes.

In the kitchen, you started brewing coffee, the scent filling the small space. As you waited for it to finish, you found yourself staring out the window, your mind still on Logan. Last night had been... unexpected. But not unwelcome. The way he’d stayed close, offering comfort without making a big deal out of it—it meant more than you wanted to admit.

The soft creak of footsteps behind you pulled you out of your thoughts.

“You’re up early,” Logan’s gravelly voice broke the quiet.

You turned to see him leaning against the doorway, his hair still a little mussed from sleep, but otherwise looking much like his usual self.

“Couldn’t sleep much after the storm,” you shrugged, offering him a small smile. “Coffee?”

“Yeah,” he grunted, moving to sit at the kitchen table. “Thanks.”

You poured two mugs, setting one in front of him before taking a seat across from him. For a moment, neither of you spoke, just sipping your coffee in the comfortable silence that had settled between you.

Logan glanced at you over the rim of his mug, his eyes softer than usual. “You sleep alright?”

You hesitated, remembering how easily you’d fallen asleep next to him. “Better than I expected, honestly.”

He grunted in acknowledgment, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Guess the storm wasn’t as bad as you thought.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the heat creeping up your neck. “Or maybe it was the company.”

Logan’s smirk widened slightly, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning the kitchen before settling on you again. “Thanks for lettin’ us stay. Laura didn’t give you much choice, huh?”

“She didn’t have to,” you replied with a shrug. “I wasn’t gonna let either of you stay in a freezing house with no power.”

Logan nodded, his eyes drifting to the window. “Power should be back on soon. I’ll head back once it’s up.”

You didn’t say anything, but part of you felt a pang of disappointment at the thought of him leaving so soon. You hadn’t had many moments like this—quiet, with just the two of you—and you found yourself wanting it to last a little longer.

Laura’s quiet footsteps broke the silence as she padded into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“Mornin’, kid,” Logan greeted her.

“Mornin’,” Laura mumbled, glancing between the two of you with a knowing look before plopping down at the table. “Is the power back on yet?”

“Not yet,” you said, trying to ignore the way she was eyeing you and Logan.

Laura just shrugged, grabbing the cereal box from the counter and helping herself. “Guess we’re stuck here a little longer, huh?”

You shot her a look, but she didn’t seem fazed, her focus on her cereal. It was hard to tell if she was playing innocent or if she was just that good at pretending.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” you asked, trying to shift the conversation.

Laura perked up at that. “You said you’d help me with my English homework, remember?”

You blinked. “I—uh, right. Yeah, I did say that.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, looking at Laura. “Since when do you need help with English?”

Laura shot him a quick look before turning back to you, all smiles. “I figured Ms. Aberra would be better at explaining it than you.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, starting to catch on. “I’m sure you’re doing fine in English, Laura.”

She shrugged, playing with her spoon. “Yeah, but it’s better when someone explains it.”

Logan just shook his head, clearly not buying it either, but he didn’t say anything, letting Laura’s little game play out.

“Well,” you said, getting up from the table. “I guess we can take a look at it after breakfast.”

Laura grinned, clearly pleased with how things were going. “Thanks, Ms. Aberra.”

You smiled back, even though you knew something was up. Sure, you had been helping her with English homework for a while now, but she didn’t need the help. When she would show you her essays or answers to questions about a reading, they were always perfect. Still, you played along, grabbing your coffee and heading toward the living room.

“Alright,” you said, glancing over your shoulder at her. “Go grab your stuff, and we’ll take a look.”

Laura jumped up, cereal forgotten, and dashed off to retrieve her things. You settled onto the couch, sipping your coffee and trying to push aside the strange feeling that this was part of something bigger. But what?

Logan followed you into the living room, sitting down in the worn armchair opposite you. He gave you a look—one eyebrow slightly raised, lips set in that half-smirk he sometimes wore when he was figuring someone out.

“She really roped you into this, huh?” he asked, voice low and rough.

You shrugged, trying to seem casual. “It’s not a big deal. I’m used to kids asking for help with schoolwork.”

“Yeah, but Laura? She doesn’t ask for help unless she’s got some kind of angle.”

You laughed softly, but the truth of his words settled somewhere in the back of your mind. Laura wasn’t just a smart kid—she was calculating. You’d seen it in class and at home. The way she observed things, the way she always seemed to know what was going on, even when no one said a word.

“I guess I’ll find out,” you said, leaning back into the couch.

Before Logan could reply, Laura returned, a small notebook and a pencil in hand. She sat beside you, flipping it open to a random page. You glanced at the page, immediately noticing that it was filled with neat, almost perfect handwriting. The essay she’d written didn’t have a single correction or revision mark.

“Alright,” you began, pretending you didn’t see the perfection in front of you. “What do you need help with?”

Laura handed the notebook over, her face perfectly serious. “I just wanted to know if the introduction’s strong enough.”

You skimmed through the first paragraph, and honestly, it was better than anything you’d expect from a sixth grader. If anything, it felt more like she was testing you than asking for actual feedback.

“It’s good,” you said slowly. “Your thesis is clear, and you have a strong opening sentence. You might want to make the transition to your first point a little smoother, but overall, it’s solid.”

Laura nodded thoughtfully, pretending to make a note in her notebook. You watched her for a moment, trying to figure out what game she was playing. There was no way she needed your help, but for some reason, she wanted you here. And Logan, too.

Logan just sat quietly, watching the two of you like he wasn’t quite sure what was happening either. His hand rested on the arm of the chair, fingers tapping lightly. You could feel his presence, steady and grounding, even when he wasn’t saying anything.

Laura glanced at her dad. “Ms. Aberra’s a pretty good teacher, don’t you think?”

Logan’s eyes flicked to you, his smirk back in full force. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

You gave Laura a suspicious look. “You’re not just buttering me up for extra credit, are you?”

Laura’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “No. I just like the way you explain things.”

“Mhm.” You weren’t buying it, but it was hard not to laugh.

The quiet hung between you all for a moment, just the sound of the rain outside and the occasional scrape of Laura’s pencil against her notebook. It felt… peaceful, despite the nagging feeling that something was going on beneath the surface.

“Alright, well,” you finally said, pushing yourself up from the couch. “Looks like you’ve got this handled, Laura. I don’t think you need much help.”

Laura blinked up at you, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks anyway.”

You caught the look she sent Logan’s way, and suddenly, it clicked. She didn’t need your help with homework—she was just trying to get you to stick around a little longer. Maybe even trying to give you and Logan more time together.

Smart kid.

Logan, of course, said nothing, just watching you with that unreadable expression he wore so well. You could never quite tell what he was thinking, and it both frustrated and intrigued you.

"So," Laura said suddenly, breaking the quiet. "What’s the plan today?"

You glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "You’re the one with the notebook full of perfect essays. I thought you had plans."

Laura grinned at that, not even trying to hide it anymore. "I was thinking we could all go out for lunch. Since we’re stuck here."

Logan gave her a look, but didn’t say anything, clearly seeing through her. You stifled a laugh, playing along. "Lunch, huh? You paying?"

Laura shrugged, looking way too pleased with herself. "I’ll ask nicely. Maybe you’ll cover it."

You shook your head, pretending to think it over. "Might be able to swing it."

Logan snorted. "Real generous of you."

"Hey, I’m a teacher. Gotta budget wisely," you shot back, smirking at him.

Laura just smiled, clearly happy with how things were going, and it hit you again—she was definitely playing matchmaker. Subtle, but it was there. Not that you minded. Spending more time with Logan wasn’t exactly a hardship.

Logan leaned back in his chair, his eyes still on you, though. "You’re sure you don’t mind us hanging around?"

You tilted your head, genuinely surprised. "Logan, if I minded, I wouldn’t have let you in. You’re both always welcome here."

For a second, he looked like he was going to argue, but then he just gave a slow nod, like he was accepting it—maybe even appreciating it, though he’d never say that out loud. "Thanks."

You shrugged, trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal, even though you knew it kind of was. "Don’t mention it."

Laura got up, stretching her arms over her head before grabbing her empty bowl. "I’ll go get ready for lunch then," she said, already heading to the sink. "I’m starving."

You watched her go, then turned back to Logan, raising an eyebrow. "Think we’ve got time for that before the power comes back on?"

Logan shrugged, his smirk returning. "Could be out a while longer."

"Convenient," you muttered, though there was no real bite to it.

Logan chuckled, a low, rough sound that made something in your chest tighten. He set his empty mug on the coffee table and stood up, stretching slightly. "Guess we better make sure the kid doesn’t eat the place out of food while we wait."

You laughed, following him into the kitchen. The dynamic between the three of you felt easy now, comfortable in a way that surprised you. Even with Laura’s not-so-subtle attempts at matchmaking, there was something natural about how you and Logan were around each other. It wasn’t rushed or forced. Just... right.

Laura appeared from the hallway, already dressed and tugging on her jacket. "Ready when you are," she said, a little too cheerfully.

Logan gave her a look. "We haven’t even decided where we’re going."

"I’ll leave that up to the grown-ups," she said, grabbing her shoes.

You exchanged a glance with Logan, both of you clearly thinking the same thing: this kid was way too clever for her own good. But neither of you called her out on it.

"Alright," Logan finally said, grabbing his jacket. "Let’s get going before the power comes back and ruins her plan."

Laura grinned but didn’t say anything, grabbing your hand as you all headed out into the damp, cool air. The rain had finally stopped, but the sky was still overcast, a soft, gray light filtering through the clouds.

You walked beside Logan, Laura skipping a few steps ahead, her eyes darting around like she was taking everything in. She was always like that—watching, observing. And now you knew why. She was playing a long game, slowly pushing you and Logan closer together, little by little.

You couldn’t help but smile. She was good. Really good.

And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to appreciate her efforts.

---

The school did something special for parents on Valentine’s Day. Instead of just handing out donuts or cupcakes, they did a competition.

There was different challenges for each couple, or pairing, to finish, and to make it even better, their kids would have to guide them on certain challenges, like walking blindfolded to the finish line on the field.

Emma glanced over at you as you were going through the list of parent’s names, making sure everyone had a partner. There were a few single parents, so you had to figure out who they should be paired with. But there was an odd number, one parent would have to sit out.

“So… who’s sitting out?” Emma asked, leaning on the desk next to you. She had that casual curiosity in her tone, but you knew she was just as invested in making sure things ran smoothly as you were.

You chewed your lip, staring at the list. “Looks like we’ve got one extra parent. I’m not sure yet.”

Emma peeked over your shoulder, scanning the names. “What about Logan?”

You paused, looking at the list. Logan’s name was there, as was Laura’s, but you hesitated. He wasn’t exactly the type to jump into school events, especially one that involved blindfolds and teamwork. And while he’d been involved in Laura’s life, you weren’t sure he’d want to participate in something like this.

“Yeah, guess he can sit out. We have an odd number of parents anyways.” You put down the clipboard and looked at the empty donut box, “I’ll be right back. Gonna go to the other room and get another box.”

As you moved toward the door, you noticed Laura sitting quietly in the corner, fiddling with her notebook, watching everything with that usual sharpness in her eyes. She had been quiet all morning, almost too quiet. You gave her a smile before heading to the break room, still feeling a little awkward about pairing up the parents.

Emma stayed behind, her eyes flicking between you and Laura, a slight smirk tugging at her lips like she was onto something.

You weaved through the hallway, your mind still on the whole situation. These parent events were always a little tricky when it came to single parents. You knew Logan wasn’t exactly the type to jump into the school scene, especially for something like a Valentine’s Day competition, but you couldn’t help but think maybe he’d want to give it a shot for Laura.

Grabbing the donut box, you paused for a second. The idea of Logan being there today, paired up with someone else, didn’t sit right. Not that you had any reason to feel that way. It was just... Logan. You weren’t even sure if he’d show up.

When you returned to the room, Laura was still sitting there, now scribbling something in her notebook. She glanced up as you entered, her expression neutral but her eyes watching you closely.

“Everything okay?” you asked, setting the fresh box on the table and moving to grab the clipboard again.

Laura nodded. “Yeah, just thinking.”

“Thinking about the competition?” You smiled, trying to make conversation, but she just gave you a vague shrug.

“Something like that.”

Emma glanced at you, her smirk still there as she made a little noise of amusement. “Logan didn’t strike me as the ‘competition’ type. But who knows?”

You shot her a look, but before you could respond, the door swung open, and Logan walked in. Speak of the devil. He looked around, taking in the sight of parents getting ready, kids buzzing with excitement. His eyes landed on you, and he gave a short nod, his usual gruff greeting.

“You’re here,” you said, surprised, trying to keep your voice casual. “Didn’t think you’d make it.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, his hands in his pockets. “Laura signed us up. Thought I’d better show.”

Laura, sitting nearby, perked up but kept her face mostly neutral. She wasn’t about to blow her cover, not yet anyway.

“Right,” you said, glancing down at the clipboard. “Well, there’s an odd number of parents, so... I was thinking maybe you’d sit out.”

Laura, quick as ever, jumped in. “Or you could partner with someone else.”

You blinked at her, caught off guard. “Well, yeah, I guess, but we don’t really have—”

“You could partner with Daddy.” Laura said it so simply, like it wasn’t a big deal, like she hadn’t been plotting this for weeks.

Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced between the two of you, clearly realizing what his daughter was doing, but he didn’t say anything. He just stood there, waiting for your reaction.

You stammered a bit, caught completely off guard. “I—I don’t know if that’s a good idea...”

Laura gave you a look, one that said she knew exactly what she was doing. “It’s just for the competition. Besides, it’ll be fun.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to you again, and this time, there was a slight smirk on his face. “It’s just a game, right? We’ll survive.”

Emma, watching the whole thing play out, was trying very hard not to laugh. “Looks like you’re stuck with Logan, Y/N.”

You felt a wave of heat rise in your cheeks. It was one thing to think about spending time with Logan, but being thrown into a school competition with him—especially with Laura being the mastermind behind it—was another.

“Okay, fine,” you muttered, trying to act like this wasn’t a big deal at all. “I guess we’ll partner up.”

Logan just gave a nonchalant shrug. “Let’s get this over with.”

Laura’s eyes practically sparkled with victory as she hopped up from her seat, already heading toward the field where the first challenge would take place. You followed, trying to shake off the awkwardness, but it was impossible with Logan right next to you.

As you reached the field, the first task was announced: a three-legged race. Of course. Out of all the challenges, it had to be this one. You glanced over at Logan, who was already eyeing the ropes being handed out for the pairs to tie their legs together.

"This should be interesting," Logan muttered under his breath, taking one of the ropes and holding it out for you.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to hide your nerves behind a smile. "I feel like this is a recipe for disaster."

Logan’s lips quirked into a smirk. "Only if you don’t keep up."

"Me?" You chuckled, shaking your head as you bent down to tie the rope around your ankle and his. "You’re the one with the bum leg."

Logan grunted, not arguing, though his usual swagger was still intact. "I’ll manage."

Laura stood off to the side, watching with a faint smile, clearly enjoying the show. You could tell she was pleased with herself, and part of you was too, even if you were trying to act like this was no big deal.

"Alright, ready?" Logan asked, standing up straighter after securing the rope.

"As I’ll ever be," you replied, trying to gauge the best way to navigate the race without falling flat on your face.

The whistle blew, and before you knew it, you were awkwardly hopping forward, one leg bound to Logan’s as you tried to find some sort of rhythm. The first few steps were disastrous—Logan’s longer strides making it nearly impossible for you to keep pace without stumbling.

"Slow down!" you laughed, grabbing his arm to steady yourself as you nearly tripped.

Logan smirked, his hand quickly coming to your waist to keep you from toppling over. "You gotta move faster than that, Y/N."

"Or maybe you need to move slower!" you shot back, trying to adjust your steps to match his. After a few shaky moments, you finally found a rhythm, the two of you moving in sync—well, mostly. Logan’s hand lingered at your waist, steadying you as you both half-hopped, half-laughed your way toward the finish line.

"Not bad," Logan grunted as you crossed the line, not quite first, but definitely not last either.

"Not bad?" You shot him a look, still a little breathless from laughing. "I’m pretty sure we almost face-planted three times."

"Could’ve been worse," he replied with a shrug, that smirk of his still in place.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny the way your heart was still racing—though you weren’t sure if it was from the race or from the fact that Logan had kept his arm around your waist longer than necessary.

Laura, waiting at the sidelines, gave you both a knowing look as you untied the rope. "You guys were pretty good," she commented casually, though the glint in her eyes said otherwise.

"Pretty good?" you echoed, shooting her a playful glare. "We almost ate dirt, Laura."

Logan grunted in agreement but didn’t say much, just shaking his head as he rubbed his leg a bit. You noticed the slight grimace that flashed across his face—something you hadn’t seen often, but it was there for just a moment before he covered it up.

"Next challenge is... egg balancing," Emma announced from the other end of the field, holding up a spoon and a carton of eggs.

You and Logan exchanged a look, and you couldn’t help but laugh. "Oh, this’ll be fun."

Logan just sighed, clearly less than thrilled about the prospect of trying to balance an egg on a spoon, but he didn’t protest. You handed him one of the spoons as you lined up for the next round.

"You got a steady hand?" you teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

Logan glanced at the spoon, then back at you. "Steadier than yours, probably."

"Let’s see about that," you shot back, placing the egg carefully on your spoon. The whistle blew, and you both started across the field, trying to keep the fragile eggs from toppling off. You had to admit, Logan had a surprising amount of focus for a guy who usually looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

"Not bad for an old man," you joked, glancing over at him as you both carefully moved toward the finish line.

"Careful, Y/N. That’s how you get egg on your face," Logan muttered, but you could hear the amusement in his voice.

Just as you were nearing the end, Laura darted over, watching closely. "Come on, you guys can do it!"

It was hard to ignore the pride in her voice—she was definitely enjoying watching you two work together. And maybe, despite the ridiculousness of it all, you were too.

By the time you finished, both of your eggs still intact, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of accomplishment. It was silly, sure, but being paired with Logan for these goofy challenges wasn’t as awkward as you thought it might be. In fact, it was... kind of nice.

"Two for two," Logan said with a smirk, handing his spoon back as the event wrapped up.

"Don’t get too cocky," you replied, bumping his arm lightly as you handed yours in too. "We’ll see how you do with the next one."

Laura appeared beside you again, her eyes bright. "You guys make a good team."

You gave her a sideways glance, trying not to read too much into her words. "Yeah, well, it’s all about teamwork, right?"

Logan didn’t say anything, but his eyes met yours for a brief moment, and there was something there—something unspoken that made your heart skip a beat.

The rest of the day went by in a blur of silly games and laughter, and by the time the event was over, you were exhausted, but in the best way possible. Logan had stayed the whole time, never complaining or trying to bow out early. Laura, of course, was thrilled with how things had turned out, and you couldn’t help but feel like she had succeeded in whatever plan she had been cooking up.

As the parents and kids started to trickle out of the school, you found yourself standing beside Logan near the door. Laura had already run ahead to grab her things, leaving the two of you alone for a moment.

"Thanks for sticking around," you said, glancing up at him. "I know this probably wasn’t your idea of a fun day."

Logan shrugged, his usual nonchalant expression in place. "Wasn’t so bad."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "Well, I’m glad you came. Laura seemed to really enjoy it."

"Yeah," Logan agreed, his gaze softening slightly as he looked in the direction where Laura had run off. "She’s a good kid."

"She is," you said, nodding. "And she’s lucky to have you."

Logan didn’t respond right away, but after a moment, he gave a small nod. "Thanks."

There was a brief silence between you, the air charged with something unspoken but palpable. Before you could say anything else, Laura came bounding back, her backpack slung over one shoulder.

"Ready to go?" she asked, looking between the two of you with that same knowing glint in her eyes.

"Yeah," Logan said, ruffling her hair lightly. "Let’s get outta here."

As they started to head for the door, Logan paused, glancing back at you. "See you around, Y/N."

"Yeah," you replied, feeling your heart skip again. "See you around, Logan."

---

It had been a few days since the Valentine’s Day event, and things had settled back into routine. You were sitting in your living room, halfway through grading papers, when there was a knock on your door.

Opening it, you found Logan standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, looking slightly out of place.

"Hey," he greeted, voice low. "Laura wanted me to ask if you'd join us for dinner tonight. Nothing fancy. Just... thought it’d be nice."

You blinked, surprised by the invitation. Logan wasn’t exactly the type to invite people over casually, but something about the way he stood there, slightly awkward, made your heart skip a beat.

"Sure," you said, smiling. "I’d like that."

Dinner at Logan’s place was unexpectedly warm. Laura set the table with care, and you found yourself laughing more than you expected as Logan recounted some old stories about his past. The tension that usually simmered between you felt different tonight—softer, like you were slowly crossing an invisible line you’d both been careful to avoid.

As you helped clear the dishes, your hand brushed against Logan’s, and the brief contact made you pause. He glanced at you, and for a moment, neither of you moved. It was like a quiet acknowledgment of something building between you.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, his voice low, his gaze lingering just a little too long.

“Anytime,” you replied softly, feeling the weight of his eyes on you as you turned to put the plates away. You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest, but it was hard with Logan standing so close. It was like every time you were around him, you felt like something unspoken hovered between you—something that Laura, in her quiet, clever way, seemed determined to help along.

Laura wandered back into the room, a book in her hands. “Y/N, can you help me with my English homework?” she asked, holding it up and glancing between you and Logan like she hadn’t just interrupted a moment.

You blinked, turning to her with a small smile. “Of course, I can take a look.”

“Great!” Laura said, her voice a little too cheerful. She plopped down on the couch and spread her notebook and book out in front of her. “It’s this essay I’ve got to write.”

Logan lingered by the kitchen counter, his eyes flicking to Laura’s book with an expression you couldn’t quite read. “I’ll leave you two to it, then,” he muttered, and before you could say anything, he was stepping outside, probably to get some fresh air or give you and Laura some space.

You turned your attention back to Laura, still smiling but a bit confused. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got here.”

Laura launched into an explanation, talking about a character analysis she needed to do for class. As you glanced over her notes, though, it struck you that everything was pretty much perfect. Her sentences were clear, her argument made sense, and she’d clearly put a lot of thought into it. Like always, it was perfect.

“Laura… this is really good,” you said slowly, giving her an impressed look. “I don’t think you need help with this.”

Laura’s face stayed impassive, but you caught a faint hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Just wanted to make sure it was okay,” she said casually, glancing in the direction Logan had gone.

Something clicked then, and you had to suppress a chuckle. So this was just another one of Laura’s little schemes to get you to stick around. You were starting to see the pattern—tiny excuses to keep you close, to get you and Logan in the same room more often. It was subtle, but now that you were catching on, it was impossible to miss.

“Well, your essay’s great,” you said, folding your arms as you gave her a knowing look. “But I think there’s more going on here than just English homework.”

Laura’s gaze stayed steady on yours, and for a moment, you could see a glimpse of something deeper in those eyes—something far beyond her years. “He’s lonely,” she said quietly, so softly that you almost missed it.

Your heart gave a small squeeze at that. It was true that Logan always seemed like a man on the outskirts of everything, never quite fitting in. And you knew he and Laura had been through a lot together, more than most people could imagine. But he wasn’t exactly the type to talk about his feelings—or admit he might need someone else in his life.

“Maybe,” you replied gently, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. “But that’s something he has to figure out on his own, okay?”

Laura nodded slowly, but she didn’t look entirely convinced. “He likes you,” she said, blunt as ever. “And you like him.”

Your cheeks heated, and you glanced away, trying to keep your voice steady. It wasn’t the first time Laura has said something like this. “It’s not that simple, Laura.”

“Why not?” she asked, her brow furrowing like she genuinely didn’t understand.

You struggled to find the right words. How could you explain that things with Logan were complicated—that you weren’t sure where you stood with him, or if there was even a place for you in his life beyond being Laura’s teacher? And yet, every time you were near him, there was this pull, this quiet magnetism that made you wonder.

“I just… don’t want to mess things up,” you admitted finally, feeling a little silly for having this conversation with an eleven-year-old.

Laura’s gaze softened, and she reached out to squeeze your hand. “You won’t.”

Before you could respond, the door swung open, and Logan stepped back inside, his gaze immediately going to the two of you. “Everything okay?” he asked, his tone gruff but laced with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“Yeah, we’re good,” you said quickly, trying to push down the strange mix of emotions Laura’s words had stirred up. You stood up, smoothing down your shirt as you gave him a smile. “I should probably get going, though. It’s getting late.”

Logan nodded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that almost looked like disappointment. “I’ll walk you out.”

He led you to the door, and you hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Laura. She gave you a small, encouraging smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Thanks again for coming,” Logan said as he opened the door, his voice a little softer than usual.

“Anytime,” you replied, echoing your earlier words as you stepped outside. The cool night air hit you, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the weight of Logan’s gaze on you.

There was a long pause, the kind that felt like something should be said, but neither of you knew what. You shifted on your feet, biting your lip as you glanced up at him.

“Logan, I—”

“Y/N, I—”

You both spoke at the same time, then paused, sharing a startled laugh.

“You first,” Logan muttered, his lips twitching into a faint smile.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I just… I wanted to say that I really enjoyed tonight. And I know Laura’s been… well, playing matchmaker or something,” you added with a chuckle, “but I just want you to know that I’m not—”

“Using her as an excuse to get close?” Logan finished for you, his voice dry but not unkind.

You nodded, feeling a little self-conscious. “Yeah.”

Logan stood there, his eyes steady on yours, and for a moment, you both let the silence fill the space between you. He shifted his weight, his usual stoic expression softening just a bit, and for the first time, it felt like he was truly considering what to say next.

"Look, I know Laura's been trying to push things," he said, his voice low and gruff, but gentler than usual. "She's... smart, too smart sometimes. But this—tonight—it wasn’t just about her."

You blinked, surprised by his admission. You weren’t used to Logan being so open, especially about anything personal. He seemed to read the surprise in your face and let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the back of his neck like this was harder for him than any physical fight he’d been in.

"What I mean is," he continued, glancing at the ground before his eyes flicked back up to yours, "it’s not just her, Y/N. I didn’t mind tonight. And that’s not something I say often."

Your breath hitched a little at his words, heart beating a little faster. There was a vulnerability in Logan that you weren’t expecting—a side of him that he clearly didn’t let out much, if at all.

"I didn’t mind it either," you said softly, trying to match his tone, to let him know you weren’t taking this lightly. "And Laura... well, she’s got a way of seeing things."

Logan let out a quiet chuckle, a rare sound that caught you off guard. "Yeah, she does. Sometimes I think she’s too smart for her own good." His eyes softened as he spoke about her, a fondness there that made you smile.

"She just wants you to be happy," you said gently. "And, I guess, maybe me too."

Logan looked at you for a long moment, something unspoken passing between you, and for the first time, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—there was something more here than just a shared concern for Laura. You had always admired Logan’s strength, his quiet loyalty, the way he looked after Laura with such fierce protectiveness. But standing there now, with the night air cool against your skin and Logan’s presence so close, it felt different. More personal.

"You know," Logan said after a long pause, his voice low again, "I don’t exactly have a lot of people in my life. Never been good at that sort of thing. But... you’re good with Laura. And you’re—" He stopped, his jaw tightening for a second like he wasn’t sure if he should say the next part. "You’re good for us."

Your heart thudded in your chest, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you could feel the weight of what he wasn’t saying—the layers beneath that simple statement. You’re good for us. It wasn’t just about being Laura’s teacher anymore. It was about something more.

Your heart thudded in your chest, but you forced a smile to keep things light. “Good for you?” you repeated with a slight chuckle. There was an ache there, something that hinted at how much more those words meant coming from Logan—someone who didn’t let people in easily. The way he looked at you, steady and deliberate, made it hard to brush aside. His eyes held yours a little longer than usual, almost daring you to look away.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice a low rumble, and you couldn’t help but notice how the weight of the night seemed to gather between you, thick in the air. Logan’s usual guarded stance had softened, just enough for you to sense it. He stepped a bit closer, enough that you could feel the faint warmth of him, the earthy scent of cigars and the wild outdoors clinging to his skin.

You shifted on your feet, trying to figure out where this was heading, but the flutter in your chest only grew stronger. Something unspoken seemed to pass between you two, like a current beneath the surface, waiting for one of you to reach down and touch it.

“I think Laura’s got something figured out,” you admitted, voice soft as you kept your eyes on him. “She’s smart enough to see what’s happening here.”

Logan’s lips quirked into a small, barely-there smile. “Yeah, too smart sometimes.” His gaze fell to the ground for a moment, and when he looked back up at you, there was something different there—something raw. “But she’s right. You’re good for us. Hell, you’re good for me.” His words carried a weight, a kind of honesty that took you by surprise, even though deep down, you’d been hoping to hear them for a while.

You swallowed, trying to keep your composure, but your pulse quickened. “Logan, I…” You started to say something—anything—to break the tension, but the words stuck in your throat. He was so close now, you could feel the heat radiating off him, and there was a wildness in his eyes that drew you in.

And then, as if some invisible line snapped, Logan took another step toward you, his rough hand reaching out to cup your cheek. His thumb grazed your skin, the touch light but electrifying. “I don’t say things like this often,” he muttered, his voice husky, the growl in it more pronounced now, “but I want you to stay close. For Laura, yeah, but... for me too.”

Your breath hitched as his words sank in, your body reacting to the closeness of him, the way his hand lingered on your cheek. It wasn’t just the softness in his eyes or the tenderness of his touch, but the way he was looking at you, like he was seeing more than just the surface.

“I’ve wanted to stay close,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper, as your hand gently touched his chest. His heartbeat was strong, steady, and you couldn’t help but feel drawn in, like the pull between you was more than just chemistry.

Logan’s gaze dropped to your lips, and for a moment, everything else faded away—the cool night air, the sound of distant traffic, even the faint light from inside the house. All that mattered was the closeness, the way you could feel his breath mingling with yours.

Before you knew it, Logan was leaning in, and you closed the gap without thinking. His lips pressed against yours, rough and warm, and everything else just melted away. The kiss was slow at first, almost tentative, but then it deepened, and the heat between you flared like wildfire.

His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer against him, and you could feel the solid strength of his body as you pressed into him. The kiss was everything you hadn’t let yourself think about for so long—filled with a hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface, waiting to spill over.

Logan kissed like he lived—intensely, without holding back. His grip on your waist tightened as if he was afraid to let go, and you responded in kind, threading your fingers into the rough texture of his hair. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing; just the two of you, connected in this raw, unexpected moment.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, you both stood there for a moment, neither of you saying anything. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and Logan’s forehead rested against yours, his breath still ragged.

“I—” you started to speak, but he cut you off, his voice low and hoarse.

“Don’t,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t ruin it with words, not yet.”

You nodded, biting back whatever thought was trying to escape. The night air felt cooler now, the warmth of Logan’s body contrasting sharply against it, grounding you in the moment. His hand lingered on your waist, thumb brushing your side, and you could feel the slight tremor in his fingers, like even he was surprised by what just happened.

After a long silence, he finally spoke, voice quieter than before. “Didn’t think this’d happen,” he admitted, almost to himself.

You gave a soft laugh, still trying to catch your breath. “Me either.”

His lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, and he shifted slightly, his hand moving from your waist to gently brush your cheek. The gesture was so uncharacteristically tender for him that it made your heart twist a little.

For a moment, you both just stood there, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between you. Part of you wanted to step back, to put some distance between you and Logan, to give yourself a chance to think. But another part—the stronger part—wanted to stay right where you were, feeling the warmth of his hand on your skin, the rough edge of his thumb grazing your cheek.

Meanwhile, Laura peeked through the blinds, a smile spreading across her face.

tags: @freythecrazyfae

[whenmemorydies]

The restaurant could be good.

Why did Syd call herself an accomplice in 3x05 Children?

I was re-reading @yannaryartside's fantastic meta about this (and you should too) and it got me thinking. In their meta, OP asks:

Is Syd (or her leaving) supposed to be a wake-up call to Carmy? That he fucked up something that brought him genuine joy and connection because Syd knew the real him, while Claire liked Logan and Carmy's brokenness? The way Claire would enable him in his bad tendencies? How is he gonna realize all that?

Honestly, I don't know what these writers have planned for how Carmy comes to the realisation that season 3 Carmy is not it lol. But I have one suspicion about how it might go, and it has less to do with Carmy and more to do with Syd.

We have to go back to season 1 where it all started. Where Sydney met Carmy and articulated within the first three episodes of the show, her hopes for her future and the future of The Beef.

Recall 1x02 Hands and the convo between her and Richie in Richie's car:

Sydney: You know the restaurant could be good. Like I know you know that. Like it doesn't have to be a place where the food is shitty, and where everybody acts shitty and feels shitty. Like it could be a good legit spot.

Cut to season 3, after Syd and Carmy have overhauled the restaurant and everyone is...well...acting shitty, feeling shitty and the food is looking like a damn mess:

Also recall the alley chat in 1x03 Brigade:

Sydney: You know, I think this place could be so different from all the other places we've been at. But in order for that to be true, we need to run things different.

Then cut to season 3 where we have EC Carmy decidedly not running things different at The Bear. Instead, he repeats toxic communication and management styles from his past:

Recall 1x05 Sheridan and Sydney's vulnerability with Carmy about why she started her catering business, Sheridan Road, after leaving the restaurant scene:

Sydney: Like it was the first time I didn't have a complete and utter psychopath behind me screaming, and pushing and yelling, and I thought I wanted that, you know?

Cut to season 3 and, well, you know the drill: behold our fav Executive Jeff acting like an utter psychopath and partaking in some screaming, pushing and yelling.

So what happened in season 3? Why have things gone in almost the exact opposite direction of what Sydney hoped for in season 1?

To my mind, the answer to that question lies in season 2 and what both Syd and Carmy were doing during that season. Yes, Syd spent most of season 2 setting up the restaurant alone while Carmy played hooky with Claire. But what was more striking to me was the contrast in effort that both of them put into actually doing things different at the restaurant (as per their pledge to each other during the alley chat of 1x03 Brigade).

Breaking cycles

I agree with @yannaryartside: Carmy playing hooky with Claire in season 2 was him numbing himself (i.e. Claire is the drug that he was addicted to for this purpose). I also reckon he was using Claire as another way to keep Mikey in his life - a reverse-engineered haunt - particularly while the most obvious physical manifestation of Mikey in the present day (The Beef itself) was being transformed into something else entirely. That kind of change - that kind of loss - couldn't have been easy for Carmy, particularly as The Bear was something he had wanted to open with this brother in the first place. I get why Carmy would "self-medicate" with Claire to try and numb some of the pain he may have felt, I really do.

But while Carmy was spending so much of his time either avoiding or dulling his pain, it meant he had little time or energy for working through these things. We know that he has been making attempts at this particularly in relation to his familial trauma and grief (as evidenced by his attendance at Al-Anon meetings). But throughout seasons 1-3 we see almost no work on Carmy's part to address the abuse and trauma that he's experienced in professional kitchens. We do not see him trying to prepare himself for the task of leading an entire restaurant. The first and only time we see Carmy start this process is in the last episode of season 3, when he bravely confronts Chef David Fields at the funeral dinner for Ever.

Now admittedly, Sydney does not have the history of familial abuse that Carmy does. But as discussed above, she does share a history of professional abuse in the restaurant industry with him. Its why the two of them make that promise to each other to do things different in 1x03 Brigrade.

To this end, Sydney spends almost all of season 2 working to enhance her leadership skills to make herself better for the staff she'll be leading as CDC of The Bear. Recall her book, Leading with the Heart by Mike Krzyzewski (Chicago-born, Polish-American and hugely successful former basketball coach of the Duke University Blue Devils and the American national basketball team), gifted to her by her father, Emmanuel:

In the beginning of 2x07 Forks, we follow Sydney as she surveys The Bear during renovations and while she works on a menu idea. This opening sequence features the following narration from an interview with Krzyzewski (which reiterates the show's ongoing message that none of us are alone, particularly when we take the time to listen to one another):

The other thing is that you're not gonna get there alone. You know, be on a team. You know, surround yourself with good people and learn how to listen.

You're not gonna learn with you just talking.

And when you do talk, converse. Don't make excuses. Figure out the solution. And you don't have to figure it out yourself.

I always wanted to be part of a team and obviously I wanted to lead that team. You know, [...] what an interesting life it is to be a leader.

The advice Coach K gives in the above monologue is also mirrored in Marcus' eulogy for his mother where he spoke about the importance of listening. It's also gold advice for how to be consistent in relationship to others. I've spoken here about the themes of chaos and consistency on this show and how one of Carmy's battles is understanding that,

[C]onsistency in terms of a product (e.g. a clean kitchen every night or immaculately plated dishes each service) and consistency in terms of relationships are two different things. You can strive for consistent products but destroy all your relationships in the pursuit of them. Conversely, if you strive for consistency in your relationships, you may not always make consistent products (and quite frankly, that's OK - is a perfectly plated agnolotti dish worth Carmy's relationship with Tina? Is driving Syd to a panic attack worth Carmy's pursuit of a star? I think not on both counts).

Sydney took the time throughout season 2 to learn how to be consistent and effective as a leader. She knew - and knows - that simply being an excellent chef is not going to cut it when it comes to running a restaurant and leading a team. This took time and effort on her part but she was committed to making The Bear different to all the other places she'd been at, so she did it. I should also note that Syd did this internal work while menu-planning and trying to push herself culinarily. She was doing so much lifting. Jealousy of Claire aside, I am surprised Syd didn't rip Carmy a new one when he talked about rejigging the menu while at his girl-who's-a-friend's house lmao.

Cut to season 3 though, and Syd is running The Bear with Carmy who has spent the entire season not having put in the work to change the chemistry in their restaurant. Of course Syd tries to counter this as best she can. She runs interference with the team and gently tries to steer the ship. But as she says in 3x09 Apologies, things have been off at The Bear.

So when Syd tells us in 3x05 Children that she's an accomplice, I can't help but feel that in her heart, Sydney believes she's an accomplice in the betrayal of their vision - Sydney and Carmy's shared vision for The Bear - from season 1. The vision she worked so hard during season 2 to bring to fruition.

By season 3, they've betrayed it and each other: family style is no where to be found and The Bear looks and feels like all the other places Syd and Carmy have been at. While exhausting for Carmy ("I'm so fucking sick of this"), this would have been devastating for Syd, given all she's done to try and avoid this outcome. You can understand why she'd consider an offer like Shapiro's (though we know she's not going to take it).

Given the events of 3x10, where Carmy confronts Chef David and has that heart-to-heart with Chef Terry, its clear his perspective on Michelin mode is starting to shift. I think the threat of losing Sydney will scare the shit out of him too. But what I think will prompt Carmy to actually change his behaviour in season 4 is the realisation that he too is an accomplice and has betrayed not just himself but Sydney and their team as well. Season 4 will necessarily need to be told, at least in part, from Syd's perspective so that the impact of this on Syd is made clear to the audience (Storer and Calo, are you listening? Its me, a desperate fan). And once Carmy recognises his role in continuing the traumatic professional legacy championed by Chef Fields, he can get into working through and breaking that cycle. I'll be seated and ready for it.

[barbielore]

The Babysitters Club series, written by Ann M Martin, debuted in 1986 and now spans 131 main series books, 15 super specials, 36 mysteries, 4 super mysteries, 3 special edition "Readers Requests" and 6 portrait collections.

But that's not all.

The spinoff series Friends Forever had a further 12 main series books and 2 super specials; the California Diaries spinoff had 15 main series books; and the Little Sister spinoff had a whopping 122 main series books and 6 super specials. The Little Sister books then spun off again into The Kids in Ms Colman's Class which had a further 12 books.

For those keeping count, that's 364. You could read one Baby-Sitters Club universe book every day of the year (taking Christmas off).

Perhaps on that one day off, you could catch up on the other Baby-Sitters Club media. There was a 13 episode TV series in the 90s, as well as a two-season Netflix series that launched in 2020. The mid-90s brought us a film as well (no relation to the TV series).

More recently, the books have been being adapted into graphic novels. I actually own a copy of my personal favourite childhood BSC book in graphic novel form because I was so charmed by its existence. That one isn't depicted below, though. This one I picked for the blog post just because I think Stacey's funny little facial expression is really cute.

What was it about the series that took off so completely? I honestly couldn't even say. Something about it really captured the imagination of a whole generation of kids (mostly but not exclusively girls) and made them believe that 11 to 13 year olds were totally responsible enough to babysit for random neighburhood children.

(Perhaps that's too harsh of me to say. I know a lot of people who say that back in the 80s, this was much more common than it has become, albeit not to the level depicted in the book.)

Or perhaps it was the ensemble. The series started following four friends: the bossy Kristy, the sensitive Mary Anne, the artistic Claudia and the sophisticated Stacey. The cast grew as the series went on, welcoming Dawn, Mallory, Jessi, Logan, Shannon and Abby to the club - along with a whole host of supporting characters. Each character had a distinct personality and depicted diverse experiences including characters of colour and with experiences of chronic illness.

The series also depicted a range of family structures, in both the club members' families and the neighbourhood: single parents, blended families and multi-generational households along with more traditional nuclear family units.

Whatever the reason, The Babysitters Club was firmly entrenched as a cultural touchstone of the 80s and 90s.

[flippinpancakes64]

Requesting Rules!

Hello!

So as I am getting more requests I figured I should put a couple guidelines of what I do/don't do

I will try to keep it brief but no promises

Also this can change at any time so please check!

My requests are CLOSED

Please be patient while I catch up!

Characters I can write for:

Edward Cullen

Alice Cullen

Esme Cullen

Rosalie Cullen/Hale

Jasper Cullen/Hale

Emmett Cullen

Bella Swan

Carlisle Cullen

The Phantom of the Opera/Erik Destler

Francisco Morales

Javier Peña

Din Djarin

Javi Gutierrez

Joel Miller

Agent Whiskey

Logan (Wolverine)

Marc Spector

Steven Grant

Jake Lockley

Scenarios I will not write for:

18+ scenes (I'm bad at them sorry)

Excessively Graphic Violence of any kind

Anything romantic involving blood relations

Anything romantic involving children (I am looking at you Jacob and Renesmee)

Excessive drug/alcohol use (a little is fine but I won't write about someone being addicted to like black tar heroin or smthn)

Toxic relationships

DDLG or other forms of age regression

Angst no comfort (sorry I like being happy)

Something excessively weird? I don't know if that makes sense. For example, I'm not gonna sit here and write a story about Emmett Cullen with a reader who shits rubber ducks, sorry <3

Additional Notes:

I am like, really bad at writing narrative scenes. I might try it in the future but I feel like it always comes out awkward. So for the most part please try to stick to a headcanon format. Like something that I could answer with the bulletpoints i have been using

I am a college student and I also have a job so please bear with me <3 I also might shut down requests if they get too piled up so please check that first line under the cut to see if my requests are open before trying to request

I am very sensitive with a tiny fragile baby ego. If you don't like my stories please just block me or keep scrolling

I am here for fun! I decided to start writing specifically for Twilight because I couldn't find anything new anywhere. This isn't like my life's passion or my ultimate dream. So don't feel pressured into liking or reblogging or requesting anything. But it is still very appreciated if you do!

The characters I listed above are obviously not all of the characters I know. Those are just the first ones that came to mind. If you have a character you want me to write about but aren't sure if I know who they are, send me a request or a message! Like I said above, I started writing because I couldn't find anything. If you're in the same boat and just want to see if I could help you out, don't be afraid to ask!

Please make your requests detailed. The last thing I want is to write a whole story and have it not be what you wanted. You don't need to keep it brief, use all the characters in the text box if you want!

[corvuserpens]

A Girl, An Ocean {A Black Sails fanfic} - Ch. 11 (Part 3)

Fandom: Black Sails Rating: Teen and up audiences Warnings: Uncomfortable sexual advances, graphic depictions of violence, mild torture (see Author's note!!!) Characters: Billy Bones, James Flint, Hal Gates, protagonist OC, supporting OCs Relationships: Billy Bones/OC, Hal Gates/OC (paternal), Max/OC (friends), James Flint/OC (mentor) Additional tags: Original character-centric, first person POV, canon character x original character romance, self-discovery journey, kinda alternative prequel to canon, canon compliant, slow burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers, tooth-rotting sweetness, cute but also sexy, angst galore, found family, Hal Gates has two children now, canon typical violence Series: Part One of Six of A Girl, An Ocean Chapters: 11/13 Summary: Constance is recruited for a mission on the outskirts of Nassau Town, but what should have been a little debt related payback ends up going a little too far.

Author's note: I swear this started out as a bit of fun playing around with the tired "give the tomboy female character a makeover for a stupid thing and turns out she's actually hot" but WELL. The story kind ran off on its own, as they do. Nothing too bad happens, just some inappropriate knee touching and ogling.

Chapter xi. Part iii.

I was sitting once more in the tavern with Hammer, enjoying a very entertaining story about a Dutch navy officer, a barrel of sugar and a stingray, when Thierry and Muldoon walked in with expressions of preoccupation and mistrust on their faces. Their eyes hopped all over the room when they stopped by our table and interrupted us. I immediately worried that something serious had happened, so I asked Hammer to finish his tale later and followed my mates outside.

They led me down the street and through a broad alleyway that opened into a paved courtyard behind the shoemaker's shop. There, Folsom, Logan and Billy waited for us. All of them were shifting around nervously: Folsom tossed a coin into the air and caught it, then tossed it again; Logan paced around, feet kicking at the scraps of leather scattered around; and Billy drummed his fingers into his crossed arms, looking fierce with his brow heavily furrowed.

When my group entered the courtyard, the three approached until we formed circle. Everyone was so grim, they reminded me of a murder of crows despite the bright sunlight bearing down on us.

"What happened?" I asked right away, heart pounding and palms sweating. "Did someone get hurt? Why are you all so damn serious?"

It was Billy who replied. "No one is hurt and nothing happened. We just... need a favor from you."

"A favor?" Confusion made my nose scrunch up as I tilted my head backwards. "Sure. I can do that. But why did we have to meet at the back of some shop? Is it something secret?"

"In a matter of speaking," he said.

Logan took over: "You see, there's this fucker, Duke Perrington. He's the boatswain for the Mistress Antwerp and he owes us money after we helped him with a situation involving some of the guys from the Dauntless crew, except he never paid and it's been six months. Muldoon left that situation with a broken foot and couldn't work for months afterwards. Folsom lost teeth and I got shot in the arse. We're done waiting, so we're getting our money one way or the other. Thing is, word got out that we were coming for Duke and he took precautions. All he possesses has been moved and stashed in a secret location somewhere out of town. We were able to find out where, but he has hired extra muscle to guard that stash."

I nodded in understanding, but knit my brow. "Then why didn't you call on the rest of the crew to raid it? Wouldn't that be easier?"

"It would be easier,” Billy conceded. “But Flint and Gates happen to be good friends with the Antwerp's captain. If we were to mobilize our men against his boatswain and God knows how many more, it would cause an all out war between the crews and Flint would lose not just a friend, but also a strong ally. And then, even if we survived that war, he would have our heads for it afterwards. Ergo, we need to keep this between us and solve it ourselves."

I set my hands on my hips. "Alright, I get that. What can I do, though? There's only six of us, there's no way we can mount an assault strong enough if this Duke fellow has hired more people to guard the stash."

"We don't need you to help us confront them directly," Thierry said. He had a suspiciously bashful air about him as he scratched at his scruff and avoided my eyes. "We need you to lure them to us so we can take them down without raising an alarm. Then we can get to the stash and move it to the Walrus undisturbed."

"Lure them?" I snickered. "What makes you think they will take one look at me and feel compelled to follow me anywhere? They'll probably think I'm a thief and... and..."

My words died in my mouth under five intense stares aimed at me - specifically at my chest and my hips, my feminine curves.

Then it dawned on me.

"Oh, no.” I waved out my hands in a gesture of denial. “No, no no no, no. I am not doing that, in fact I'm offended you even thought to ask!"

"I told you she wouldn't do it," Thierry muttered.

Muldoon pleaded with his big brown eyes, lashes long and sweet like a cow's. "You're the only woman in the crew, there's literally no one else we can ask!"

"Well, why don't you hire a couple of girls from the brothel for like... I dunno, an hour or so? I'm sure they would do a far better job than I, anyway."

Muldoon, Logan, Thierry, Folsom and Billy side-eyed each other. None of them spoke up.

I shot them my best disappointed- but-not-surprised look.

"Seriously? All of you are broke? Already?? It's been two days since we arrived, for heaven's sake!" I turned to Billy; HIM I was truly surprised with. "Them I can understand, but you? What the fuck did you spend all your money on?"

He returned my glare with unbridled offense. The fucking nerve. His arms tensed up some more as he shuffled on his feet. "I had to buy new supplies."

I scoffed, incredulous. "New supplies..."

Folsom stepped up to try to salvage their pitch. "You'll get an equal share for your troubles, don't worry."

"That's not the fucking point!" My voice raised with a mix of anger, embarrassment and a little hurt. "Why does it have to be me? Maybe they're queer, why can't Billy go? He's handsome, all he would have to do is take his shirt off and march up to them."

Muldoon, Logan and Thierry snorted and brought a fist to their mouths to muffle back the laughter fighting to come out. Their shoulders quacked from how hard they tried to contain themselves.

Billy, on the other hand, blushed into such a fierce shade of red, it was a miracle there wasn't smoke coming out of his ears. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he was finally able to stutter: "I-I don't feel comfortable doing that."

"Well shit, Billy, neither do I!" I snapped in response. He swallowed dry and pulled back the corners of his mouth into a sheepish expression.

"Alright, alright, look." Thierry approached me and set his hands on my shoulders. "You won't even have to actually do anything. You just need to lure them toward us and we will take care of them before they can even put their hands on you. You can trust us, aye? We'll handle them."

My lip pouted and trembled. I wanted to believe him and part of me was sure of the veracity of his statement, but I still doubted. Things could go wrong. They might not fall for the ruse. Or worse, they might fall for it too well, and I would be fucked.

"You're sure about that? I mean, really sure?"

Thierry looked me straight in the eyes, his round face set into a solemn mask. "I promise, if anything happens before you can bring them close enough, we will jump them right away and save you. We would never let anything bad happen to you. You're our friend, one of our brothers. Well, sister, in your case. We'll protect you no matter what. Alright?"

I let another minute pass to really consider what I was getting myself into... What I would have to become. The consequences of failure. I could still turn them down, walk away and leave them to figure it out. Thing was, what if they messed up and got hurt? Or killed? I couldn't handle losing more friends so soon.

And more than that, if something went wrong, I would be compelled to tell Gates and Flint what happened and they would be forced to answer the slight. War between the Walrus and the Mistress Antwerp would break out, guaranteed, leading to more bloodshed and more casualties. I would never forgive myself for it, not while knowing I could have aided them by giving them their best chance at success.

I took a deep breath, pushed it out of my nose and let my eyelids flutter closed in resignation. I nodded very lightly.

Thierry grinned, patted my shoulders and released me. “Thank you, Siren. We'll owe you big for this.”

I bristled, already regretful.

"Sure. Well...” I gestured to my sailor attire, cutlass and pistol included. "Am I supposed to do it in these clothes? Because I warn you, if I have to buy a useless costume I will never wear again just for this, it's coming out of your cuts."

Logan grinned wide with a hungry glint in his eyes. "That won't be necessary. I know just the person who can help us."

***

That evening, at the brothel, I left Charlotte's chambers with an intense desire to murder all my friends burning in my heart. My hands fiddled with the corset she had strapped on me in an attempt to facilitate my breathing as we walked down the overlook to the open air parlor below.

"Stop fidgeting," she scolded, then swatted my hand away from the ridiculous hairstyle she had spent nearly an hour pinning into place. "You're going to mess up my work. And don't touch your hair."

Admittedly, when I had looked at myself in the mirror, I didn't look half bad. Charlotte had lined my eyes with kohl and painted my lips the color of a fresh rose bud. The effect was striking: my stare was more intense, my mouth so full and soft I wanted to kiss myself. However, I disliked how my breasts were practically jumping out of my stripped dark orange corset, and I didn't appreciate the scandalous amount of leg my prussian blue velvet skirts revealed. One pull in the wrong direction and you could see my... Things that shouldn't be seen in public.

But I liked the black stockings and the delicate high heel red slippers she had lent me. My arms were adorned with silver bands and strings of beads. From my earlobes dangled large gold hoops with pearls that flashed whenever they caught any ray of light. I had never looked so... Voluptuous.

"Sorry," I mumbled as I forced my hands to stay still by wrapping them around the skirts. "It's just that I had almost forgotten what it was like to dress in feminine clothes."

"Hmm." She ran her critical gaze from my head to my toes and smiled with pride for a job well done. "You're getting a little too muscled, but they look good on you. I still want them back when you're done, though. And remember: not. A. Tear. Or there will be consequences."

I pressed my mouth to stop myself from smiling, to no avail. "Yes, Ma'am. You have my word."

We reached the top of the rickety staircase and started our way down, with Charlotte in the lead. My friends were waiting in the parlor, but I kept my eyes down on my feet as I lifted the skirts. My main goal was not to trip, but it was also a good excuse to avoid seeing their reaction to my figure just a little longer. Even so, I could feel them staring. I prayed they wouldn't say anything too outrageous, or worse, laugh at me. It would be the fastest way to make me turn around and go back upstairs to tear it all off.

Eventually, Charlotte and I reached the parlor and I was forced to face my companions' scrutiny. Muldoon and Thierry were mostly fixated on my chest area, though once in a while I saw their eyes travel to my mostly exposed leg. Their mouths were hanging open, shocked at the extreme change from my usual pirate self to this.

Folsom, bless his heart, was capable of better contention, even if he was staring a hole into my forehead with the most sour expression I had seen on him yet. Meanwhile, Logan chuckled his approval and pulled Charlotte to his side to press a big kiss on her cheek, which earned him a genuine smile from her.

"You are a genius, an inspiration, a goddess. She looks stunning!"

"Careful there," she warned with a mock glare of menace. "I might get jealous."

"You know I only have eyes for you, my sweet." And he leaned down to press his lips to hers in a tender kiss that she returned earnestly. And he was being truthful, too. There was no concealed lust in his eyes when he looked at me. That, he saved for Charlotte and Charlotte alone.

I had to turn my head from them before I gagged, and that was when I noticed we were missing someone. "Where's Billy?"

"He ran to the smitty to pick up an order while we were waiting for you," Folsom gruffed. "Should be back any minute."

"There is, now." Thierry pointed to the door once he managed to tear his eyes off of me.

Standing tall over most of the crowd, Billy Bones weaved his way through bodies and tables with an awkward gait. He refused both drinks and girls, who all but threw themselves into his arms with a desire that had nothing to do with coin. He was obviously uncomfortable and out of place in the brothel, but I still felt this... twinge in my gut, like a hot iron being poked into my stomach.

Jealousy. I was jealous of the way those women so shamelessly offered themselves to him without bothering to hide how much they longed to bring him into their beds. I had to forcefully remind myself it was their job to do so, and it was all I could do to quell the rage swirling inside me.

Billy found us and set a large leather satchel on a nearby table. "Freshly made and easy to hide. Should see us through the night. Are we all set to go or are we still waiting for Constance?"

"Um..." Thierry hummed and nodded in my direction, while rest kicked back and enjoyed the show.

He glanced at me briefly before looking up the stairs, then did a double take and really saw me. His blue eyes widened into two marbles as they focused on my face, dropped to my attire and quickly returned to my eyes while his cheeks turned red for the second time that day. His mouth pried open to let in more air, for his breath had became shallow, and at last he seemed to catch himself and shook his head like he was trying to break some spell I had cast upon him.

"Constance?" He inquired. "You look... I mean... Wow--"

Unable to help it, I smiled and rubbed the back of my head, more than a little flattered by his reaction. So many women, all of them barely dressed (some fully undressed), and yet it was I who had captured his attention. It would boost any girl's ego.

"Aye, it's me. Pretty extreme, huh?"

"Y-yeah." He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes like he could hardly believe it was me and not some other prostitute. "Didn't even recognize you. Great job, Charlotte."

"Thank you." The little blonde perked up like a mayflower after rain. "You should all get going, now. The Madam won't like seeing that here--" She waved at the satchel Billy had brought from the blacksmith. "And if she stays any longer, she will start distracting the customers."

"Right." Logan placed one more kiss on her jaw and whispered something in her ear that made her giggle and smack him on the chest.

"I'll believe it when I see it. Be careful out there. Oh, I almost forgot!" Charlotte produced an abandoned fan from another nearby table and handed it to me. "I trust you still know how to use these?"

My mouth pressed into a bitter line. I flicked my wrist to open the fan, waved it into my neck some, and closed it again. "How could I forget?"

"Perfect. It will add just a hint of flavor to your performance. Don't forget what I taught you. And you--" She poked Logan's chest. "I will see you later."

And with that, she disappeared upstairs, while we marched out the door as a unit about to go to war. We stopped the cart a good distance from the house and made the rest of the way on foot, hidden in the palm trees.

Some ten to twelve yards from it, we crouched down and carefully pushed the fronds out of the way. The windows were all dark and the front door firmly shut, while the wooden fence delineating the area surrounding it was in disrepair, with whole logs fallen to the ground or even broken in half. For all intents and purposes, it seemed abandoned, except for the small campfire burning a small distance from the door and the burly, rough looking fellows standing by it to keep warm.

Billy pulled out a spyglass and took a peek while the rest of us prepared by rummaging through his satchel. Inside, there were small guns that barely fit in my hand, yet weighted as much as a standard flintlock or more, as well as sharp pocket knives. Additionally, there were thick, darkly colored clothes inside that Folsom and the others wrapped themselves in to conceal their identities.

As for myself, I strapped a knife to my thigh, on top of the black stockings. In that darkness, and with so much to distract them in my borrowed outfit, they would never see it. I trusted my companions to help me in a pinch, but with pirates, one can never be too careful.

"How many are there, Billy?" Muldoon asked, just as he was finishing enveloping his bald head in cloth.

Standing around like that, all dressed the same and armed to the teeth, my friends reminded me of the corsairs from the Barbary coast that my Grandfather had told me about as a child. Just as fierce and scary, too.

"I count at least nine,” Billy replied. “Three at the door, three at the back, two doing rounds on the perimeter and at least one sentinel on the roof with a rifle."

I gaped at him and exclaimed in a hushed tone: "Nine? And I'm to charm them all into following me?"

"She's right, she'll never get them all to come with her at the same time," Thierry sighed. "No matter how nice she looks or how much she seduces them."

Billy put away the spyglass and turned to us.

"Very well, change of plans. Constance, distract the three at the front. Be as loud as you can, hopefully you'll lure a few more of them to the front and make this easier for us. Logan, Thierry, take out the two doing rounds. Once they are down, retreat back to the shrubs and meet me and Muldoon at the back. Folsom, I see a rope ladder on the east side of the house. Climb it, take out the sentinel and grab the rifle so you can cover for us while we take care of the rest. Hoot to let us know it's safe for us to move on the three at the back. Don't use the pistols unless it's absolutely necessary, we don't want to alert them to our presence until the last minute. They are a precaution only. Any questions?”

I spoke up: “I don't have to lead them anywhere, in that case?”

“No, just keep their attention on you. Buy us time to eliminate the others before we come to you.”

“Aye, aye.”

“Any more?”

Thierry raised a hand: “What if there's more of them hidden in the bushes?”

“Or inside?” Logan suggested. “There aren't any lights on, but that don't mean anything.”

“If there's more in the bushes waiting, we barricade in the house and fight from there. So, save your shot in case you might need it later. If they are inside waiting... Try not to die.”

The group exchanged a few vague looks, shrugged and nodded.

“All good? No doubts? Then let's move.”

Billy also wrapped himself in his bundle of dark clothes and covered his face. He and most of the others disappeared into the woods, while Folsom and I started our way toward the house, with the least amount of noise as possible. Before he left to get into position, he touched my arm to get my attention and whispered: “You sure you're up to this?”

I swallowed hard and forced a crooked smile on my face.

“Sure. Most men don't care what comes out of a woman's mouth, shouldn't be too hard. Besides...” I adjusted my corset and smoothed down my skirts. “They'll be too distracted to hear a word, anyway.”

“Aye, they sure will, Miss.” Folsom snickered, waved and vanished into the wild foliage.

As soon as he was gone, my smile twisted into a grimace. "Oh, dear..." soon as I turned around, my smile twisted into a grimace. "Oh, dear..."

Why had I let myself get roped into this, again? Well... It was too late to turn back, anyhow. With a deep breath, I pulled back my shoulders, lifted my chin and remembered how Charlotte had taught me to walk. Let your hips sway in time with you steps. The movement is natural in and of it's own, you just have to dramatize it.

I advanced and gently let my hips roll with each step, one hand holding up my skirts, the other gripping the fan tight in an attempt to keep my nerves reined. I thought of Max's confident walk, how she floated through a room as if she were weightless, yet projected power all the same, and did my best to emulate it.

As I reached the fence, I faked panting, tired breaths and lifted my fan to get their attention.

"Excuse me!" I gasped as I leaned on a post and tried to make it look like I had just walked hundreds of miles and was exhausted.

The three men by the fire immediately picked their weapons and started toward me. They pointed their barrels in my direction, but I just continued to pant, one hand to my chest, grateful for the sweat that had pooled on my forehead whilst our group had traveled toward the house. When they realized I was a woman and alone, they dropped the rifles and pistols to rush forwards.

Idiots. Had I a few pistols on me, I could have shot them dead.

"Oh, thank God!" I huffed once they were within hearing distance. "I thought I was done for! I've been wandering in circles all evening after visiting my sister in the interior!"

The tallest of them, a middle aged man with thinning, greasy black hair and a patchy beard, spoke up with a stern face: "You shouldn't be out here by yourself, Miss. It's dangerous."

I assumed he was in charge, so I put on my best socialite smile and straightened up to reveal my cleavage and leg in all their glory. Instantly, all eyes roamed shamelessly from my face and the way they ate me up with greedy stares made me feel... dirty.

"I got turned around when it started getting dark and lost my way," I explained, snapping my fan open to hide behind it, just for a moment to gag, before plastering the smile back on. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to intrude. It's just I saw your campfire and decided it would be wise to seek help before I sprained an ankle. These heels are absolute death traps, you know...”

I whipped my leg forward to show them the red shoes and I swear on the twelve Apostles of Christ that I could feel their stare crawl up my leg.

“I'm so very tired...” I moaned. “Could I bother you for a glass of water, please? Then I will be out of your hair, I promise."

The Man-in-Charge glanced at the other two, who grinned like it was early Christmas, and held out an arm to the fire.

"But of course!” He said. “And, truly, if you're as tired as you seem, perhaps you should sit down a while and rest."

Fucking hell... I hoped Billy and the others would hurry.

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly impose myself upon you or abuse your hospitality!"

"Sure you can," one of the lackeys exclaimed. He came far too close for comfort and put an arm around my back to corral me forward. "What kind of gentlemen would we be if we let a pretty thing like you leave without sitting for a bit? Come, come! We have water, or rum if you prefer. It will keep you warm in the chilly night air."

"You are too kind," I giggled, though on the inside, all I could think about was reach for my knife and sink it into his arm so he would get away from me. I tried to reminded myself that my mates were nearby and would come to my aid if necessary. And I wasn't exactly helpless, either.

“What's going on, down there?!” The sentinel on the roof shouted down. I could see his silhouette cut against the starry sky as he leaned over the ledge.

“Nothing, just a lost young lady!” The Man-in-Charge yelled back. “False alarm!”

“A lady, eh?” I could hear the excitement in his voice while he chuckled. “You sure you don't need a hand down there?”

“We'll let you know, mate!” The lackey cackled. His arm squeezed around my waist so I was pressed right against him, to the point I could smell the rum in his breath. By some miracle, I didn't vomit right there and then, but my skin prickled like insects scuttling under it.

At the fire, the other goon brought a stool from inside the house and set it by the flames. He cleared the dust from it with his hand, then offered for me to sit.

"Oh, thank you so much," I sighed as I rushed out of the Lackey's hold and took a seat, fanning myself rather exaggeratedly. I had to keep their attention on me no matter what, so I thought it would be advantageous to indulge in a bit of theater. I crossed my exposed leg over the other and took a deep breath to give them an eyeful of breasts that they just couldn't look away from. I waited for a bit, but when none of them moved, I cleared my throat delicately.

"Forgive me, but that glass of water, please?"

"Oh, right." The imbecile who had brought me the stool scrambled once more toward the house and produced water from a barrel by the door.

Just then, I heard a hoot from above and let out a small sigh of relief. The sentinel was down, which meant the others were taking care of the three guards at the back and would come to my rescue any minute. I just had to hold on a little longer and it would be over.

The Imbecile handed me the cup, which I took with a smile. "Thank you, sir."

It smelled stale and there were bugs swimming in it. My stomach convulsed painfully, but I held firm, brought the cup to my lips and pressed them on the brim so that when I tilted the cup, none of that filthy water would accidentally get in my mouth.

I hummed with false satisfaction. "Much better. How fortunate I am to have crossed your path! You three gentlemen saved me."

"No, believe me, Miss--" the Lackey who had insisted I sit pulled an empty crate to my side and made himself comfortable there. "We are the fortunate ones."

I smiled a bit wider to disguise my need to snarl at him and fanned a little faster to blow away the stench of his breath.

The Man-in-Charge stepped a little closer to stare down my cleavage.

"So, do you live in town?" He asked.

"That's right, I do," I lied. "By the tailor's shop, in fact."

"And do you often go out on your own?" The Lackey grabbed a bottle of rum, popped the cork and took a swig from it before he inched closer to offered me some. I accepted it, but only because if I didn't, it would look suspicious.

"Yes, very often. I'm a very independent woman." I winked at him and gave the rum the same treatment I had given the water, not allowing a single drop in my mouth.

“So we see... Tell us.” The Lackey leaned even closer, and I had to fight the urge to get up and run, or headbutt him on the nose. "Are you new to the brothel? I don't remember seeing you there."

I thought I heard the rustle of leaves on my left. Given that there was no wind, I could only assume it was my companions and prayed they would move in faster.

I arched an eyebrow up. "The brothel? What reason could I have to be there?"

"Well, with such flattering attire..." His hand found itself on my exposed knee, which made the hairs on the back of my neck stand and my heart hammer with disgust. "Me was thinking you might work there. Do you work there?"

From behind him, a shadow vaulted from the house and silently came forward. My heart nearly stopped dead in my chest when my eyes crossed with Billy's for brief moment, before I returned them to the Lackey and allowed myself to grin, though this time it was quite genuine.

"Nah. I'm not one of Noonan's prostitutes.” I sat up straighter and sloshed the rum around lazily. “I am a pirate."

The three laughed at this statement, probably thought I was joking. Inch by inch, Billy approached, knife in hand. His face might have been covered up, but I would recognize his giant figure, his posture and intense stare anywhere. When he saw where the Lackey had put his hand, his blue eyes flashed with rage. "A pirate, eh?" The Imbecile chortled across from me. Behind him, another shadow moved out of the dark and into the fire light. The bushy brows beneath the cloth told me it was Logan. "Alright, what ship, then?"

I pretended to take another sip of rum and strategically placed my hand on the Lackeys; in reality, I was aiming for the knife strapped to my leg.

"Why--" I shrugged my shoulders like the answer was obvious. "The Walrus, of course!"

Too late, they realized their mistake.

In a matter of seconds, Logan had a bloody dagger in the Man-in-Charge's neck, Billy brought his arm around the Lackey's neck and pulled him kicking to his feet, while Thierry split the Imbecile's skull open with the pommel of his pistol.

Two dead, one to go. But before Billy could finish him, I too stood up, knife at the ready.

"Wait."

Billy gave me a quizzical look and only restrained the man, who fought uselessly against his iron grip.

I stepped forward with deliberately slow steps, chin tilted down and eyes narrowed, all smiles and pretenses gone from my features. I burrowed a hole between his eyes with a glare, bared my teeth in that snarl that had been struggling to come out.

The Lackey eyed my knife, then the expression on my face. He paled up and stopped struggling, paralyzed by terror. I raised the tip of my blade to his neck and pressed it against his bobbing Adam's apple.

"You thought I was an easy target for you, didn't you?” I growled. “You saw a pair of breasts and a pretty leg and thought they were yours for the taking. Like you had a claim to me. Like I was a helpless little thing you could take advantage of. Well... Let she show you just how wrong you were!"

I pulled back the knife and thrust it not into his throat, but his belly, down to the hilt.

The Lackey screamed when it pierced his stomach, then shrieked like a pig when I dragged the sharp edge across his front and pulled out. To my disappointment, his guts only poked out of the wound, didn't spill like it had happened when Billy had done it. Then again, he had used a cutlass rather than a knife and he was much stronger than I.

The Lackey struggled in Billy's hold, kicked with his feet whilst his hands tried to keep his intestines from falling out. He was a pathetic sight. A worm contorting in a hook. It felt good to reveal how small he actually was, how weak. Stripped of any power and without the support of his friends, he was nothing more than a ravenous dog that needed to be put down.

I reached out to hold his jaw in a merciless grip and force him to look at me.

“You thought I prey,” I told him. “But I'm a fucking predator.”

Again, I shoved the knife into his torso. Then a third time, a fourth, a fifth. No one stopped me and Billy never let go of that pitiful excuse of a man. The sharp odor of iron filled my nostrils, drowning out the scent of forest and sea breeze. Blood coated my hand, spattered on my face, stained the velvet blue skirts. Charlotte was going to kill me. When I finally had enough and the Lackey was choking in his own blood, I jammed the blade into his neck and put him out of his misery.

Panting with rage, I stepped back and watched as Billy let his body drop on the dust and grass, arms and legs twitching from the death throes. I watched every second of it until he went still, forced my eyes to soak in the macabre vision. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I observed that this kill was having a different effect on me than, for example, the man I had killed on my first hunt.

I hadn't killed anyone else since that day; this was only the second life I'd had a hand in ending. The first time, I had felt sickened, distraught at my own capacity for murder under the right circumstances. It had felt wrong.

But this? This felt... satisfying. Still wrong, arguably moreso due to my own altered intentions, going from self-preservation to vengeful spite, yet I still felt... vindicated. And that scared me more. Much more.

From somewhere far away, I thought I heard someone call my name. A heavy hand grabbed at my shoulder to snap my attention from what I had done. Billy had removed the cloth masking his face and stared at me with concern, brows tense over his eyes.

"You alright?" He was asking me.

My head nodded automatically, until I noticed I was breathing through my mouth, sucking in air like a fish out of water. I clamped my jaw shut and got a hold of my features to conceal how numb and empty I felt on the inside. I barely recognized myself. My brain scrambled for a reply that might soothe his worries over me, and as always, I resorted to humor.

"Just so we're clear,” I said. “I am never doing this shit again."

The others all laughed - but not Billy. He continued to search my eyes, narrowed his lids like he could see beyond the surface and read my very soul. With a heavy weight in my stomach, I realized he knew I was not, in fact, alright. It was too much for me to bear, so I turned away and pulled out of his grasp to get away from him and the body whose blood pooled around my feet.

"Damn, Constance--" Logan looked at me with a grin, but also a heightened sense of respect that just made me hate myself more. "I knew you were tough, but this? Remind me not to get on your bad side!"

I said nothing to that. Couldn't think of anything suitable to reply. With each second that passed, I felt worse and worse. My heart was like lead that pulled me relentlessly toward the ground, every step I took was torture. The knife in my hand, soaked in blood, was like a hot coal that burned my palm. I threw it aside and curled my fingers into fists. I just wanted to go back to town, back to the Walrus, and get away from all this.

"Thierry, Muldoon--" Billy put on his authoritative boatswain tone. "Get inside and start loading whatever's valuable to the cart. Folsom, Logan, help me drag the bodies to the front of the house. When Duke comes over, I want to leave a clear message about being indebted to us."

I watched them get to work and thought, I should go and lend a hand. But...

When they had originally approached me with this plan, they told me I had to seduce and distract Duke Perrington's goons, nothing more. I hadn't wanted to come anyways. Plus, Billy didn't include me in his orders. Therefore, I made my way to the cart and sat with the horse. At least he wouldn't judge me, though if the others raised any questions, I could always say I was keeping watch.

Thankfully, as they transported chests full of gold, silver and jewels (including plates, cutlery and even napkin rings), no one questioned my inertia. In fact, they barely spoke to me, like I wasn't even there. From Billy's surreptitious looks, I suspected he was involved.

During one instance, while bringing more treasure from the house, he waited for the others to get out of ear shot so he could turn to me and ask:

"Constance, are you sure you're all right?"

I glanced very briefly at him, then stared out into the darkness. "Of course."

From my visual periphery, I saw him come around the front of the horse so he could force himself into my sights. He had that look on his face whenever he had reached the limits of his patience, with one corner of his mouth pulled back and his head tilted to the side, demanding my attention.

In that moment, his stare was as torturous to endure as a a hot iron, precisely because I couldn't keep anything I felt from him. Somehow, he knew, he always knew. I feared that if I opened my mouth to say I was anything less than fine, I would come apart right there and then, and I would not have that. I would not let him see me weak and vulnerable, nor any of the others.

So, I pressed my mouth tightly shut, grabbed fistfuls of my skirts and turned my head away like a stubborn child.

His hand, cold from the night air, covered one of mine on my lap. It took every bit of my control not to snatch it away.

"You don't need to do this," he told me in a sickeningly gentle tone. "Not with me. You know you can tell me anything and I won't judge you."

God... How could he not? After what he had just witnessed me do...? I didn't even want to consider what he thought of me.

My eyes stung and blurred, which only added to my shame, corroded my composure. My entire face twitched as I fought to contain the storm inside me. I pulled my hand from his grasp and turned my back on him, arms wrapped tight around myself.

"Leave me be," I whispered with shaky breaths. "I know you mean well, but... Please, just leave me be. Please..."

He stood there silent, just watching me. For a frightening moment, I thought he was going to insist, but then, at last, he walked away. I allowed myself a single sob, just the one, before taking a few deep breaths and locking everything inside my chest. I wiped away the tears that had managed to escape and sat up straight. Thank the heavens it was too dark for the others to see my face.

***

Hours later, on the Walrus, I perched on the bowsprit beneath the stars.

The ship was mostly empty at three bells in the morning watch, roughly thirty minutes past five o'clock. I had tried to get some sleep in my hammock after a sparse dinner of breath and water, but no matter how I tossed and turned, I couldn't make myself lose consciousness. Hence, the bowsprit.

I played with a coil of rope to keep my hands busy, practicing the same knots I could already do with my eyes closed. On the beach, there were lights from campfires, music and laughter, despite the late hour. The smell of tobacco and food mingled with sea salt and trees. I could have rented a room at the tavern and gone out for a drink with my mates after our successful heist, but the last thing I wished for was company. I kept thinking about that sordid excuse of a man, so eager to get his dirty hands on me whether I allowed it or not, and how it felt to make him scream. Thought back to my fight with Cutthroat Fred and the young sailor I had killed on my first time over the side.

On both instances, I had fought and maimed or killed to save my own life, but I had to admit that, even then, inflicting violence had come with a taste I hadn't expected. It had felt good. Which meant it had been in me all along. There was a monster hidden deep in my soul, waiting for the right moment to catch me unawares and take over, and I had no idea how to control it, or even if there was a way to control it.

What was I to do, then? I desperately clawed at Billy's advice - become indifferent to it and move forward without allowing myself to roil over it. It had worked when self-defense had justified it, but what I had done had nothing to do with that. That man was unarmed and restrained with no possible way to escape. He was at my mercy and I had taken advantage of that... Just as he was going to do with me, had I been a different kind of woman.

Sure, either Billy or one of the others would have killed him anyway. Maybe that was what truly bothered me. It wasn't the killing; it was the slaughter. I had wanted him to feel pain before he died, I wanted him to suffer. What kind of depraved person was I, in that case?

My spiraling thoughts were interrupted by the sound of slow footsteps approaching. My hands stilled. I looked over my shoulder to see who it was: Mr. Gates.

In the orange lantern light, he looked grim and spectral, but when he reached the bow and leaned on it, he smiled and didn't seem quite as frightening. I didn't greet him or say a word. I stared ahead, across the bay, and continued to play around with my rope. I didn't have the energy to chat.

"Fine night, isn't it?" He said whilst he looked over the black horizon, the ocean waves sprinkled here and there by the lanterns of neighboring ships. "Not too hot, not too cold. Beautiful sky. Very peaceful."

I didn't feel very peaceful, and I didn't feel like talking, but out of respect for my quartermaster, I rasped: "Aye. Fine."

Gates hummed and stood there a while without speaking. Vaguely, I wondered if he was waiting for me to say something, or if he was only there to appreciate the calm weather and quiet early hours of the morning in silence. Given his many responsibilities and affairs to oversee, he probably didn't get to enjoy them that often.

I adjusted my position on the bowsprit and cocooned myself further into my frock. I had changed back into my own clothes as soon as we had returned to the brothel. Charlotte had given me a terse look when she saw blood stains on her skirt, but she must have some sort of divination ability too, for when she truly saw the expression on my face, she took her clothes back with a snide comment and left it at that.

"Y'know..." Gates risked after several minutes. "Billy came to me with the most fascinating tale, a few hours ago. Something about Duke Perrington being indebted to him and a few others on the crew and their daring attempt to get their money back. He told me you were involved into the whole endeavor - and the nature of your involvement."

I cursed Billy and his big heart, for once. I knew he wouldn't let it go, but telling Gates? That was a low blow. "Are we to be disciplined, then?"

"Disciplined?" He sounded genuinely confused by the very idea. "For what? As far as I'm concerned, this was between him, his group and Perrington. They evened the score without involving either crews, so all's well. No disciplinary action is needed."

I scoffed and turned away. All was well. We had killed nine men to steal treasure. That was as far from being well as the moon was from the sun.

"No, I'm bringing this up because Billy reported that the event has shaken you. He got worried and sought my intervention. Told me he had spoken to you the first time you joined us in an attack, after you killed an officer aboard our target ship, but that this time was different. That you attacked one of the guards at that house with the intent to cause pain."

Gods, he spoke of it all so casually, it was infuriating! Like we were discussing the weather or how much I was due out of our latest prize.

I pinned Gates with a heavy stare, forehead creased so tight it hurt, but he didn't even flinch. He only observed me, one hand on the railing, the other on his hip, waiting.

"And what if I did?" I inquired a bit more aggressively than I probably should. "I'm a pirate, just like you. We lead violent lives and profit off of the misery of others. That's how it is."

"Being a pirate doesn't have to mean being cruel," Mr. Gates retorted patiently. "I didn't picture you as a cruel person, that's all. Look, I'm not here to judge you. In fact, I'm the last person who should be judging anyone, I know this. I'm simply concerned that this might have caused a spiritual crisis within you, understandably so."

"That's the thing, Mr. Gates." I sighed and hung my head, eyes on my lap. "You should be judging me. I did something awful that, regardless of whether it was deserved or not, I never thought I was capable of. That's not normal."

"So you gave in to your worst impulses and committed an act that could be classified as torture." Gates spread out his arms like it was no big deal. "It happens, especially when you feel you've been wronged. You're not the first person in history to do it and you won't be the last."

"That doesn't make it right," I countered weakly.

"No, it doesn't, but neither does it make you an evil person. Not unless you so choose. Listen..." He took a deep breath, thumped the railing while pondering his next words. "We all have our own demons to battle and have to come face-to-face with the fact all of us have a darkness within us that this life allows us to indulge in far too often. That can lead us to do things we never thought capable of. The trick is to be aware of that darkness, recognize when it's speaking to us and tell it to fuck off. I know that right now, coming out of it so recently, it might seem impossible given how easy it was, yes?"

I nodded and felt so ashamed admitting it. It had been easy. I didn't even have to think. Just like with the sailor, my hand simply plunged the knife into flesh out of its own volition.

"Take it from an old man who has been doing this for a long time: it is quite possible. Not easy, but possible. Doing violence is a choice, and when applied in the right place at the right time, it's also a useful tool. But if you let it control you... then it becomes a problem. For you and for me."

I frowned at that. "Why for you?"

"Well, if I let you go around rampaging and murdering indiscriminately, eventually someone will bring the problem to our crew and we'll be forced to respond, whether to defend our reputation, our privileges on this island or our very lives. And Constance, I happen to like you. I don't want to see myself put in a position where I might have to shoot you."

He said it with such readiness, I was certain he would, in fact, shoot me down to protect the crew. He might hesitate, but he would do it. And not just me; anyone who became a threat, such as Cutthroat Fred, marooned off on a spit of land in the middle of the ocean with a pistol and a single bullet, for attempting to murder me in what was meant to be friendly combat.

"So. My advice to you is: refrain from it until you are able to keep a cool head before deciding you want to gut someone. And if you decide you will live better with yourself by giving them a quick death, do that instead. Above all, never make decisions in anger. Nothing good ever comes out of that, in any circumstance."

I turned his words over in my head, let my hands wrap the rope around my fingers and pull it into a butterfly knot. "Billy told me that the best way to deal with it all is to just... close my heart to it. Turn my back on my bad deeds and never think of them again."

Gates nodded. "Sound advice. But...?"

I bit my lip. "But what if I can't ignore it? What if it always affects me? I chose to be here, to become this. I know I can't pick and choose which parts I like and which I don't, I have to accept all of it. But Billy himself struggles with this. So... What do you think I should do?"

"Hmm... That's a very complicated question. Let me know when you figure it out so I can learn from your wisdom?"

He chuckled, but quickly sobered under my loaded look. I was being serious. Gates thought about it for a while, let his gaze wander the horizon, and said: "I suppose you give yourself the grace of time, and keep practicing Billy's advice. In the meantime, pick your battles and should you find yourself in a position when you can spare a life, spare it. But when you have no option but to kill, then at least do it quickly. Like I said, being a pirate doesn't have to mean being cruel."

In a way, it was the answer I was expecting. Still didn't really help putting me at ease. That was something I would have to come terms with on my own. Somehow, I had to find a way.

"And another suggestion I may offer is to just..." Gates shrugged. "Don't allow yourself to get roped into those idiots' schemes."

I huffed in laughter, finally able to smile since I had gotten back from the heist. "I wasn't going to, but I feared they would do something stupid and cause an inter-crew war."

"Alright, fair. That's very noble of you. Still not your problem. Next time, tell them to figure it out themselves."

"Will do, Mr. Gates."

"And now get out of there before you fall into the sea and go get some sleep. You have lessons with de Groot in the morning, remember?"

I rolled my eyes and suppressed a groan. Not that I didn't look forward to it, just that I knew I would struggle to pay attention on only two hours of sleep. I climbed up the bow of the Walrus and started my way to the hatch and stairs that led into the gundeck.

Before I went down though, I stopped and turned to my quartermaster. "Thank you for your advice, Mr. Gates. I will consider it, next time."

"Thank Billy for bringing this up to me in the first place," he retorted with a suggestive smirk that I did not appreciate. "Truly, though. He cares more about you than he lets on, you know." I let my gaze drop to the floorboards as the corners of my mouth fell into a pout. "After what he saw tonight... Somehow, I highly doubt it." Gates clicked his tongue. "Nonsense. You think he hasn't seen worse? Or done worse, himself? Do you know what he did with the bodies before you left Perrington's stash house?"

I shook my head, brows creased with curiosity and some dread.

"He piled the bodies by the front door and pinned a piece of paper to one of their chests for Perrington to find. And do you know what he wrote on it? He wrote: "this is what happens to those who forsake their debts." Oh yes--"

He laughed to my shocked expression. "Billy did that. See, the thing with that boy is that, in his heart of hearts, Billy is a courageous, altruistic, caring man whom you can count on for anything as a colleague and as a friend. But never make the mistake of forgetting he is also a pirate. Everything he has learned, he learned from the worst people imaginable. He's just very good at managing that part of himself. So I wouldn't be too worried about him changing his opinion about you over something like this. If anything, you should look up to him as an example. You might learn a thing or two."

Surprisingly... Learning that Billy Bones, who had saved me from falling to my death and taught me swordplay and comforted me after losing Jean, was just as capable of commiting horrific acts of violence as anyone else I had met thus far, was exactly what helped lift some of the weight in my chest. If he could do those things and still remain mostly good, as well as maintain the love and respect of the crew, there was no reason I couldn't, too. Gates was right, I could still choose to pick when and how to engage with my own darkness without succumbing to it, and it wouldn't take away from my own morals. Perhaps that was the way into accepting that part of my new life.

That, I could live with.

A very small, very fragile smile lifted my cheeks. "I think I just did, Mr. Gates."

He returned my smile with one of his rarer soft ones. "Good. In that case, off you go. I'll see you in the morning."

And shooed me away to bed like he was my father.

The way Gates did it however, felt much more... paternal than my own Father had ever been. More caring. I kind of wished Gates had been my father, instead. I had a feeling it would have made for a much more fun and freeing childhood. It was a shame he didn't have any children (that we knew of). Then again, I supposed he had his hands full with us scoundrels, already.

I made my way to my hammock, shed my frock, weapons and shoes, and hopped into it, surprised by how tired I felt. After talking to Gates, I was feeling much better, so sleep caught up to me fast. I let my eyes flutter closed, crossed my arms over my chest and thought of Billy, no longer angry at him for telling Gates about what had happened. Instead, not for the first time, I felt my heart swell with warmth and adoration, which I wrapped around my soul like a blanket until it felt light as air and gentle as the turquoise lagoon's waves.

God bless that man. I was lucky to have him for a friend... lucky that he cared so much about me. He was going to make a fine husband to someone, one day. As I lost consciousness and my body finally relaxed enough to allow me rest, I only wished that that someone would be... me.

[cursedvaultss]

HPHL OC Profile: Cordelia Duncan

“Autumn is an interesting season, even in the metaphor of life, is a time of decline, of loss, but also intense and haunting beauty. Some places, like some people, never are or have been, as beautiful in their fall."

Name: Cordelia Annalise Duncan

Nicknames: Cordy

Birthdate: April 22nd, 1875 (or depending on the timeline)

Zodiac Sign: Taurus

Blood Status: Unknown, possibly Muggleborn

Nationality: British

Sexuality: Bisexual

I haven't actually played Hogwarts Legacy and I'm not exactly planning to, but I'm not above stealing the cool aspects of the story and using them for my own purposes, so that's what Cordelia is here for!

Physical Appearance

Hair: Dark brown/black

Eyes: Brown

Height: 175.3 cm (5ft 9)

Weight: 55kg 

Faceclaim: Sofia Wylie

Background

Home: An orphanage in London and Hogwarts

Family

Cordelia is an orphan and she doesn't know who her parents are. As she grows up, she wants to find out the identities of her mother and father and whether or not they're alive or if she has any other relatives left alive.

Hogwarts

House: Slytherin

Career

11-17: Hogwarts Student 

17->: tbd

Personality & Attitude

Cordelia can be a little complicated. On one hand, she wants to be a good friend and kind, but on the other, she often puts her own goals ahead of those around her. She knows many people around the school and can be sociable and fun, but she doesn't let people really close to her easily. She has developed a hard exterior during her life living in the orphanage and having to fend for herself. She probably gets along best with people who can understand or even relate to her circumstances. Priorities: Making her goals a reality, success, helping her friends

Strengths: Ambitious, cunning, sociable, adaptable, wants to do good and be good

Weaknesses: Single-minded, self-centered, guards her true emotions closely

Stressed: When she feels stuck, either with her goals or physically

Calm/Comforted: While studying, while with her friends

Favorites

Colours: gold, green

Weather: Clear skies, sun

Hobbies:

Fashion: Cordelia doesn't have a lot of money so she starts out wearing whatever she has been given at the orphanage but during her time at Hogwarts she acquires a few more extravagant pieces which she values and takes good care of.

Relationships

Significant Other/Love Interest: OPEN

Friends:

Sebastian Sallow

Anne Sallow

Ominis Gaunt

Cecilia Balinor by @endlessly-cursed

Zelda Cairncross, Lillian Brokenshire, Sidonie Lewis, Benji Gerhardt, and Galen Stagg by @cursebreakerfarrier

Lettie Heyes, Milo Foy, and Ambrose Penvellyn by @cursedlegacies

Atticus Doherty, Fred Graham, Anastasia and Florence Osada by @hphmmatthewluther

Danny Gibson by @catohphm

Logan Rosseto, Haldir Eilphyra, Johnny Tazar Jr., Ayas Perphyra, Elyon Vamaer, and Elisen Chaeyra by @nicos-oc-hell

Brianna O’Rourke by @unfortunate-arrow

OPEN FOR INTERACTION!

Rivals:

Sebastian Sallow

Trivia

Cordelia enjoys fashion, although she hardly had money to spend on clothes. She knows how to make her own clothes either by hand and later with the help of magic.

When she grows up, she wants to do something to help other children who come to the Wizrding world with no money and no clue what's going on.

She cares about people deeply, although she doesn't often show it.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

I've done the separate tribe aus and the main 🐉Wings of Fire AU... but... what about a...

⛰🐉Jade Mountain Academy⏳📜 AU?

This au would take place in Jade Mountain Academy, where the adults for both the X-Men and Brotherhood are teachers, and the teens/kids are students... Now, there will be winglets. And for each winglet, there is a spot for each tribe. There will be five winglets, each with the same name they had from Wings of Fire: Jade, Gold, Silver, Copper, and Quartz. This au takes on the more school-like qualities, and has a sense of normalcy some of the other 🐉Wings of Fire aus might lack...

Some characters will keep their tribe from the main au; some will be changed; and for this au, I plan to choose which tribe the reader is from, since y'all got to pick for the main au. Hybrids are a thing. If you are a hybrid, you can go into either tribes' spot. But, this only really works if you are a half-and-half hybrid. Anything over that gets complicated. I will be giving everyone their own special name for this au, too. I will come up with some options for the reader to pick from, and if I think it best, I will use a generic name to cover for the reader. Since we've gone over basic rules, let's get to the fun stuff...

Classes! The classes from Jade Mountain Academy are also in this au! We have history, math, hunting, basic health and anatomy, library/reading, art, music, and others we haven't seen yet/weren't exactly mentioned, like science, literature, spelling, physical education (P.E.), etc.... not to mention Prey Center time! And group activities, like presentations, field trips, scavenger hunts, basic safety, self-defense... So. Many. Possibilities. And the group caves! The different types of beds/bedding, environment, and little things kept in the room... Hammocks, rock ledges, leaves and ferns, a small pool or river, blankets, reed mats, animal furs, you name it, something will be provided for the student in question (within reason).

About relationships between characters: to start with, anything between the reader and everyone else is strictly platonic. Next, while a few characters may be romantic towards each other, that won't be explored as much. A few characters who I wasn't sure if they were adults or teens, I will decide on that for this au. I am mainly using X-Men Evolution for this, but will add in a few character dynamics from the Animated Series, and a few headcanons/changes that I came up with, such as less if the adults trying to maim children and toss them off cliffs, less trying to off Proffesor Xavier or Logan, and for all things wonderful, I'm letting these characters have ateast one friend/dragon/dragonet they are genuinely friends with/don't hate/can stand/love, platonically, hopefully (romance isn't everything).

For this au, everyone has the standard powers of the tribe they are in. If I say someone has a certain power, they have that certain power. Some tribes have extra gifts that only certain members get, depending on circumstances out of their talons, such as the NightWing mind-rrading or future-seeing, SkyWing firescales, MudWing red-egg burn immunity, or HiveWing genetically gifted powers... And about animus magic: it is rare. Extremely rare. Some characters may have an animus-touched object, but not the full power. I may put in something akin to Darkstalker's scroll, something of immense power, that can grant anything the user wants... but if it falls into the wrong talons, even once... it could spell chaos for both continents...

Humans and other dragons exist. Humans are a problem for the Academy at times, due to strained relations between the dragons and humans in the past. Scavengers have stolen and/or harmed, even killed, eggs and dragonets before, earning the ire of many dragons alike, and their kingdoms... while dragons have been known to sometimes eat humans, which scares the smaller species... tensions are high at times, and while some dragons believe scavengers are intelligent creatures, other dragons would rather they wipe them out/eat them at every opportunity.

Now... I may make the reader related to someone. I may not. For now, I'm leaving it undecided. I hope this honeycomb thought has been a sweet treat for everyone😊🧡💛🍯)

(UPDATE: Okay. Here's the thing. I've looked over the options for younger mutants through the Animated Series, Evolution, and the Anime, and I won't be able to do all five winglets. I've completed three of them. But... I only have enough options, possibly not even that much, for four... I apologize. I am doing my best. But, this is what I'm able to do. And that is all I can do, what I'm able.)

[loganstonegibbskinney]

Hi, just saw your reply & wanted to let you know that Johnny had the right to clear his name & reputation. He also fought for the truth to protect his children, they're his world. I, as a parent, can understand it & think that Amber deserves to be called out. I would also like to apologize for my other Johnny fan calling you a bitch. It's not nice. It was also not okay to accuse you of supporting Chris. I know you never did, I follow that blog because I like him, too & defended him.

Good God, I made ONE post about my stand and my inbox is full of pro-JD folks.

Let me tell you something, as a soon-to-be-mom and caretaker of children full time: If JD gave a f**k about his children, he would have stopped with the drugs and drinking! He would seek help for his addictions, his temper and issues that haunt him. That's what a loving parent - mother or father - would do. Also: If he cared about his children at all, he wouldn't have done the following things: - demanded a public trial, making sure the world finds out what kind of man he really is - start a smear campaign against the woman he married and introduced to his children

Guess what? I AM a woman, I AM going to be a mother and I AM a survivor of domestic abuse at the hands of an addict! I'm not supporting Amber because she's a woman or some other stupid reason his fans come up with. I can relate to her story - even if mine differs. I know what it feels like to be used and abused.

I have a lot of friends of all genders, some are straight, some are not. The abuse they've survived is heartbreaking. Abuse is not about gender as you claim. It's about who holds the power. And while yes, women can be the abusers, in this case the abuser was him.

I've seen first hand how DARVO works and it's what JD used in order to manipulate not just the public but also the jury. Then he has people like you, spreading out of context "admissions of guilt" by Amber but happily and conveniently leaving out what lead to her saying it - in this point it was JD saying it was a fair fight. Guess what darling, it WASN'T!

I'm kindly asking you to unfollow my former Chris Noth blog - now my Mike Logan blog - if you haven't already. As I've stated in my ONE post about the JD/AH case: I love Chris, I still consider myself a fan of his work but at the end of the way, even though I've met him several times, I don't know him. And loving someone's work is no reason to put them on a throne and dismiss other people's horrible experiences. There hasn't been an investigation into the claims so I doubt it will ever be resolved.

If you think that defending a celebrity based on their work and/or public persona without even listening to the other sides, then you're the one with the problem, dear.

[post-modern-prometheus]

So I was thinking a lot about the world before Logan went back in time, and I was also thinking a lot about Luna Maximoff, and I came up with this.

Before Logan goes back in time, Crystal and Peter meet sometime while he’s on the run from the government (probably for being a mutant and the son of Magneto.) They get married and have Luna, and for a while, everything is nice. But of course, all good things come to an end eventually. Especially with the Maximoff family, bc they have really shitty luck.

When Luna is four, Peter dies. And not long after, Crystal gets killed protecting her daughter from sentinels. Erik, while devastated at the loss of his only son and daughter-in-law, takes Luna in and raises her the best he can considering the circumstances. But things are getting worse and worse for mutants, so eventually the plan to send Logan back in time is made, and they put it into motion.

It works, and the timeline is fixed a few months before Luna turns nine. But because of the changes Logan made, Peter and Crystal don’t meet at the right time (or at all) and Luna is not born in the new timeline.

And yet, by some weird twist of fate, she ends up there anyway.

One moment, Luna is hiding in her room as things go to shit around her, and the next, she is waking up in a random field without a single soul in sight. Confused, she starts walking. And eventually, she comes across a town. Luna then finds a newspaper and learns that it’s 1983, a little over a month after En Sabah Nur was defeated.

Luna, despite being only eight years old, connects the dots pretty quickly and realizes that Logan must have fixed the timeline, and somehow, she was transported into this new one. Then Luna realizes that her parents must be alive if that’s the case, and she gets excited briefly before realizing they probably arent together yet (and might not ever be). That and they won’t remember having a daughter.

The idea of this hurts, but the fact that they weren’t dead makes up for it. And despite the really weird and difficult situation she found herself in, Luna is a Maximoff, which means she’s a survivor. She steals some food, water, and a few pairs of new clothes and spends a few days wandering the streets of the town she found herself in, kind of just relishing in her new freedom.

But her new life is lonely. Super lonely. And she misses her family — especially her grandfather, who she was rarely away from since her parent’s deaths. And yet, no matter how tempting it is to go searching for them, she knows they probably wouldn’t believe her if she told them who she was. So she stays alone, even if it hurts sometimes.

Things don’t stay that way, though. Because, as I mentioned before, the Maximoff family doesn’t have the best of luck. So of course, shit goes wrong for Luna.

Essentially what happens is that, while hanging out in a park, Luna sees a group of police officers chasing a woman who is obviously a mutant. They shoot at the woman, and before Luna can stop to think about it, she’s using her powers to take control of the officer’s minds, which allows the woman to escape unharmed. (I checked the wiki, she can actually do this)

But what Luna isn’t aware of is that one of the policemen had been working for a group of people who captured and experimented on mutants. And as soon as they’re free from her mind control, goes to report what happened to their boss. They find out about Luna and, intrigued by her abilities, track her down and capture her. And since Luna is a child with powers she’s not in complete control of, they overpower her easily.

Luna spends months in a facility created by the anti-mutant group. And soon, the scientists experimenting on her find out about her relation to Magneto. They also find out about her being part inhuman, and seeing as the existence of inhumans have yet to be revealed in this timeline, the discovery makes them even more intrigued by her, and so she’s experimented on a lot more than other mutants in the place.

Right as Luna loses almost all hope of getting out, the x men find out about the facility and break into it to free the mutants captured inside. Erik is the one who comes across Luna hiding in the corner of her cell and is quick to free her. But as soon as she sees his face, Luna bursts into tears and barrels into him, not caring if he has no recollection of her. Bc she missed her grandfather goddammit.

Erik is confused about the crying child hugging him, but he brushes it off and assumes that she’s just emotional about being freed. So he picks her up and brings her to where the x men are putting all the freed mutants, except when he tries to put her down, she sort of just... doesn’t let go? She just clings to him.

The x men are a mix of confused, worried, and amused when they see a tired looking Erik holding a small crying child, but they brush it off and bring everyone back to the school. After all, they aren’t exactly unfamiliar with mutants being emotional after being freed, nor are they unfamiliar with comforting the mutant children who they find, so they don’t think much of Luna’s behavior.

But then they reach the school and Luna still will not let go of Erik.

Literally no one can get her to let go. Not even Jean or Charles can do anything bc Luna has an immunity to telepaths. And no one is all that willing to force her away from Erik either, bc they still don’t know what her powers are and they don’t want to cause any distress to Luna in case she lashes out with them.

In the end, Peter is the one who gets her to let go.

The thing is, he doesn’t even mean to. All he does is limp into the room to say hello and ask how the mission went (bc he’s still recovering from having his leg broken by En Sabah Nur.) But as soon as he opens his mouth to speak, there’s suddenly a small blonde child barreling into him with enough force to knock him to the ground. This just further confuses everyone.

But even though Peter has no idea who this kid is, the sight of her crying causes his heart to break as his parental instincts go haywire, telling him to protect and comfort this random child. So, no matter how much these new and sudden instincts confuse him, he hugs Luna. And it feels... strangely right?

(I’m sorry I just wanted more Luna content)

something something dadneto something something history repeats itself something something-

nah bc this. and now i cant stop thinking about how peter trying to tell erik could parallel with luna trying to tell peter-

[sidespart]

The Fall of King Romulus Part 2

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him...

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Pairings: Mostly Platonic LAMP and all the found family feels. Could be read as pre-slash. 

Prologue     Chapter 1  

“Young Sir! Come look at this! A beautiful gift for your sweetheart, no?”

Logan bit back a curse as Roman, once again, slipped form his side and almost skipped towards the merchants stall.

They had finally left the forest earlier that morning. Barley a quarter- mile beyond the tree line the path merged with the great eastern road, already heaving with traders wagons heading to Steveange for the monthly market. Roman had gone to work immediately, finding an exhausted looking couple and charming them into exchanging a ride in the back of their cart for a selection of songs to soothe their gaggle of bored children.

Even Logan, no lover of music, could admit that Romans voices was objectively pleasing. Even the wailing baby settled down under the effects of his lullaby.

The closer they got to the city gates the more densely packed the road became, to the point where their pace might have been improved by walking. But the rest was welcome and the sun was still high in the sky by the time they had finally made it to the city square. They might even have made it to their target in good time, had Patton not insisted that they stay to help the family unload every box and crate from their cart before moving on.

Patton stood nearly seven foot tall, with shoulders to match and the patience of a Raspanzean monk. Moving him when he had decided not to move was difficult at the best of times.  Currently, with a good deed in need of doing and no less than three small children clambering all over him, it was going to be impossible.

Logan looked at Virgil for support.

Virgil was already manhandling the smallest sack of produce down from the cart, under close supervision of a surly looking nine year old.

Logan looked back at Patton. Patton had somehow acquired a fourth child, and was swinging the small boy gently back and forth with one giant arm.

Logan sighed.  

Eventually they agreed that Patton and Virgil would stay to help the family, and then set about finding the four of them somewhere to sleep. Logan and Roman would head down the main street, complete their mission and return with, hopefully, enough coin to let them settle here for at least a weeks rest.

Which Logan would have no problem with. Except that the monthly market seemed far larger than when Logan had visited the city as a young apprentice. The city square was packed with stalls filled with meat, produce, spices and enough live animals to generate a stink so strong even Patton and his twice broken nose winced. The main road meanwhile was filled with more temporary looking stalls offering books, jewellery and potions of every colour alongside the usual clothing and home wear. These continued the whole length of the road from the square to the city temple and even spilled over into the side streets and thoroughfares of the city proper.

All of which apparently meant Roman couldn’t walk for more than two minutes without stopping to gawk at whatever gaudy display was on offer or chat with the seller.

“Roman!” he caught up with the wayward bard at a jewellers stall, where a heavy set man with salt and pepper hair was holding up an extremely impractical looking necklace for him to inspect

“Oh there you are specs” Roman grinned at him, “have you seen Master Galvenets wares? Look how shiny!”

“Is this your sweetheart?” The jeweller – presumably Master Galvenet – grinned at Logan with far too many teeth and reached below the makeshift counter top, “Then may I suggest this one instead – to match his  eyes?”

The necklace he presented was even bigger than the last. With blue glass masquerading as the sapphires surrounded by enough ostentatious filigree to decorate a dukes bed chamber. Logan stared,  momentarily struck dumb by his own disdain.

Roman nudged him, waggling his eyebrows and giving him a lecherous grin “What do you think sweetie? It does match your eyes.”

Logan blanched. Turning quickly to the seller her snapped out “We are NOT together. And also - we’re, extremely poor. And not interested.”

He grabbed Roman’s wrist and proceeded to drag the giggling bard with him back towards the main street. “Can you try to focus?” Logan glared at him, “remember this package is time sensitive.” Superstitiously, Logan patted his pocket, feeling the shape of the vial they had been entrusted to transport to Steveange still safely stored inside.

Roman failed to look chastened. “Logan, it’s a herb. And we we’re asked to deliver it within a week – it’s only been five days! Your forest short cut worked, alright, the worlds not going to end if we stop to appreciate some fine wares on our way.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You consider Master Galvenet’s works, ‘fine wares’?”

Now Roman had the grace to look a little sheepish “They had a charm of their own.”

Logan hmphed. “They were very clearly fake.”

“Oh?” Roman linked their arms together, tugging him back into the steady stream of south bound shoppers, “How could you tell?”

Logan told him.

The ensuring lecture took them the rest of the way down main street, and into the rabbit warren of alleyways that branched out behind the city’s temple.

Even here, there were traders. Many had their wares spread out on blankets on the ground instead of stalls, but they seemed less inclined to call over whilst the two of them walked together deep in discussion and so, mercifully, there was less opportunities for Roman to get distracted.

“A festival?” Roman suggested. Logan shrugged, it was possible, something was certainly occurring to draw such an enormous throng.

Eventually, Logan had to admit that his boyhood memories were not enough to navigate every twist and turn of the city streets and Roman stepped away from him to ask a couple for directions. Logan took the chance to study him, but whatever fit of irrationality had led to him wandering back through half the forest the previous night seemed to have past. Even the scratches on his hands and arms had healed almost completely overnight, helped along by a generous slathering of healing salve from Virgil.

(Logan had, at the time, pointed out that the healer was using up rather a lot of their  dwindling supply for an extremely minor injury. Virgil had hissed at him)

Roman was often contradictory. He would spend a day whining about his need for beauty sleep but then stay up till the early hours to fulfil every song request from whatever crowd they managed to gather. He fussed with his makeup and performance clothing as much as a lady at court, but kept his hair cropped unfashionably short and made no effort to seek out high class patrons who could have kept him in silks and finery. He was talented enough with a lute to spend the social season entertaining upper class lords, and talented enough with a sword to spend the rest of his time as a body guard or becomes some towns local hero. Instead he travelled with them.

“You know, I’m fairly sure there were some gentlemen painting miniatures on the main road, if you want to keep staring at me that is.”

Logan flushed, caught. “Don’t be insufferable.”

“You don’t pay me enough for that” Roman grinned cheekily.

This was an old joke. Virgil had originally found Roman, and hired him as a body guard and escort for a three day trip through a bandit ridden mountain pass. Three weeks and many diversions later, they had emerged on the other side of the mountain. Roman had become as much a part of the group as any of the others and had stayed to travel with them as a friend rather than a hire.

Logan was glad of it. Most of the time.

“Did you get the directions?”

“I did, I had to ask three people before I found someone who recognised the address – the city’s full of tourists!”

 *

 The woman who opened the door looked like the word crone ha been invented especially for her. Her grey hair stuck out from a shoddily tied scarf and her face looked like at any moment it might collapse under the weight of her own frown. She scowled at the pair of them, looking like she already learned everything there was to know about them from one glance and found it all spectacularly unimpressive.

“What do you want?” She snapped.

Logan resisted the urge to smooth down his waistcoat like he was presenting to a lecturer and stepped forward.

“Good afternoon. We have been sent by Madam Valarie to –“

This, if anything, seemed to make the scowl deepen.

“My sister? What does that witch want?”

“To deliver you …this”

With a flourish Logan produced the vial and held it aloft. The thin shaft of light spilling from the doorway made the red herb glow a burning orange in the dim of the alley.

“And you think I’m dramatic.”

“Shush.”

Needlessly dramatic or not, he had the woman’s attention. She reached towards the vial with trembling hands but Logan drew back before she could make contact.

“Your sister paid us half, with the promise of the second half on delivery.” Reaching into a different pocket  he produced an envelope and held it out. “She told us to give you this – it should validate our story.”

The woman muttered something decidedly uncomplimentary under her breath but accepted the envelope. Without speaking further she turned and retreated into the hovel, leaving the door open behind her

The two men exchanged a glance, and then Roman deftly stepped around Logan to walk in first, one hand on his sword.

He needn’t have bothered, the short hallway opened up to small kitchen, where every conceivable surface was covered with books, scrolls and bric-a-brac. Three of the four walks were taken up with shelving where kitchen ingredients and appliances sat shoulder to shoulder with  ornaments, candles and what looked like half a taxidermy ostrich.  

If the old woman had hired muscle ready to take to leap out and take the herb by force, they would have had a hard time finding space to stand.

“My sister claims this was picked under the glow of a full moon.”

Logan nodded, “that is what we were given to understand.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, “For this to be worth the price it needs to be used within ten days of the moon’s glow, my sisters village is two weeks ride away on the eastern road.”

“We came through the forest.” Logan explained, “Also, I sealed the herb in a pre-sterilised sample jar – the lack of air exposure should help it retain its freshness far beyond its normal time frame!”

The was a silence. The woman was now looking at Logan not with suspicion, but with the exasperation of a teacher whose student has just said something rather stupid.

Logan crossed his arms.

“If you look at the specimen carefully you will notice no discoloration or other signs of degradation – this method can be used to prolong the lifespan of most vegetation and-“

She interrupted him by laughing, an awful crows call of a noise, and held up a hand for silence.

“You are obviously quite uneducated.” she told him cheerfully “And you are bothering Mittens.”

“I beg your pardon I- wait what?”

“YOWCH!”

Logan spun round, as much as he could in the cramped space, only to find Roman desperately trying to relinquish a scrambling ball of fur back onto one of the high shelves. The cat had already dug its claws deep enough into the bards wrist to draw blood, and was currently clinging on for dear life as Roman waved his hand around like Patton trying to kill a spider.

“My apologies Master Mittens” Roman told the cat a few moments later, after Logan and the crone had  finally convinced it to release him “I thought you were a hat.”

“Why must you touch things.” Logan hissed and was surprised by a much gentler laugh from their hostess.

“Aw now,  Mittens is not the most dangerous thing you could have touched in my kitchen. Here. Drink.”

Logan blinked as she shoved hot cup into his hands. Its contents was extremely dark and disturbingly viscous. A few drops glopped over the side, singeing his finger. He held it as far from his body as he possibly could.

“And for you?” She held up a second cup towards Roman who smiled politely but shook his head ‘no’

“No thank you, Madam.”

“We’re both fine.” Logan said firmly, putting the cup down on one of the first patches of exposed surface he could find. “If you wouldn’t mind completing our transaction we will take our leave of this…place.”

She looked at him for one long moment and then turned back to Roman.

“Your friend says you passed through the Serpents Forrest”

Logan frowned - “That’s not what the locals called it.”

“Well that’s who lives there.” The crone snapped without turning around, “One of the darker fae. I’m not surprised he” – she jerked her chin back towards Logan – “ got through alright, since the gods look after fools.”

“Excuse me!”

“But how did you manage?”

Roman juts shrugged, eyes sparkling with mirth at Logan’s outraged expression. “We saw no one Madam, but if we had done - I carry iron.”

That rusted hunk of junk Logan thought, but the crone was nodding approvingly

“A clever boy” she patted Roman cheek, “I thought so when I heard your accent – you’re from beyond the mountains.”

Logan frowned. He was not gifted when it came to interpreting expressions, but he thought Romans smile had suddenly become very fixed.

“So are you.” Roman replied softly.

There was a moments quiet whilst the two looked at each other and Logan tried not to roll his eyes out of his own head. All they needed to do was a simple swap of coin for produce and instead Roman had manged to find the only other grown adult in Steveange who still believed in fairies.

Whatever northerner to northerner communication was happening seemed to pass, and the crone reached past Roman to pull a small burlap sack from the shelf. Mittens took the opportunity to skitter across her arm and settle himself on her shoulder.

“Here you are then.” She tipped the sack out on top of an open tome, producing three cloves of garlic and a hefty pile of coins Logan couldn’t help but stare. That was more money than Logan had seen in one place since he had started traveling.

The crone picked out three gold pieces and a fistful of silver and handed them to Logan. He counted quickly and handed her the vial. Transaction complete, Logan headed immediately to the door, but turned back when he realised Roman wasn’t with him

He was still trapped between the crone and the shelving. “Will you come and see me before you leave the city?” she asked “It would be nice to share my tea with someone who would appreciate it.”

Logan thought to the gelatinous mess in the tea cup and gagged but Roman just smiled

“If time allows my lady.” He brought her withered hand to his lips and deposited a courtly kiss before sidestepping her and heading after Logan.

The city alley smelt almost like fresh air after the over mixture of incense, garlic and cat that her permeated the crones kitchen, and Logan breathed it in gratefully before setting off. Roman falling into sept beside him.

Logan glanced at him, uncertain.

He knew Roman was from the Northern Kingdom. He guessed from his speech patterns that he either grew up upper class or was truly committed to his larger than life bard persona. He had mentioned a brother once, off hand, and during an argument compared Logan to a tutor he’d disliked who had made him study maps until he could recount every river on the continent by heart.

That was all he knew.

Logan was curious by nature, a trait which tended to get him in trouble. He would have liked to pepper Roman with a hundred questions about life beyond the mountains, but Patton had told him once he should only ask a question about a sensitive subject if he was prepared to answer one himself.

None of them like to talk about where they came from, but that was fine. They were going forward together.

It was obvious though, that meeting his countryman had shaken Roman. He walked silently, even when they turned into a wider street and found the market still in full swing, shoppers crowding around each stall, he made no comment, only stepped closer to Logan.

If he was Patton, he might have known what to say to sooth whatever emotion was clouding Romans features. If he was Virgil, he might have made a joke or pointed out an interesting stall  to distract him

As it was..

“So do all Northerners believe in fairy stories or is it just you two?”

“What?”

“The dark fae of the forest? She can’t have been serious.”

Roman straighten up, fixing him with a mock glare “Logan! You’re honestly going to keep pretending you don’t believe in magic? You travel with an elf!”

“Half-elf. And there’s nothing mystical about him.”

“He makes potions Logan!”

“He mixes herbs into useful medicines, it’s no different than any human herbalist.”

“He chants when he does it. And his eyes do that thing.” Roman wiggled his fingers in front of his face, apparently to illustrate ‘that thing’.

“Which I’m sure helps him know how long each concoction needs to stew before adding the next ingredient. You cannot decided a race is magical just because they’ve failed to invent clocks.”

“Urgh!” Roman threw up his hands, “Sometimes you sound like you’re from Arkaze’yed.”

Arkaze’yd was on the western coast. The most industrially advanced of the great cities, they had recently converted the city temple into an extension of the university.

Logan preened. “Thank you for the compliment.”

Roman pulled a face. “You are such a - ooh! Jam tarts!”

He darted away again, but this time Logan couldn’t fault him. A boy was hastily unpacking a crate of what looked like fresh jam tarts onto his masters stall and the scent was delicious

They had to wait for three families ahead of them before they could finally have their turn. Roman picked out four of the tarts and chatted happily with the seller whilst Logan carefully counted out the money.

“I had herd the monthly market of Steveange was something to behold but this! Are you going to go all night?”

“Most likely.” The trader told them happily, “The towns packed for the coronation.”

“Coronation?”

“Princess Stephanie is to become queen,” the man gushed, one hand over his heart in what Logan considered to be an alarming display of emotional royalism. “The guests have been arriving all week.”

Logan nodded absently. That explained the hubbub. The rich went traveling and the poor went to see them. A coronation was a good enough excuse for a festival. If you liked that sort of thing.

“They say,” the trader whispered leaning forward, apparently unbothered by Logan’s total lack of interest in royal gossip, “That even the mad Prince is coming - Remus of Notaleveale!”

“Is that so.” said Logan, monotonously “Here’s your coin.” He turned to Roman to claim his pastry and – stared.

All the colour had drained from Romans face. He gaze was fixed on the trader, his eyes so wide he looked quite wild.

“Roman?” Logan asked, as gently as he could. He realised that Romans hands were shaking the second before the bag of pastries fell from his grip.

“Roman- ROMAN hey-“

Other customers were starting to push between them, Logan bent down quickly to rescue the bag form the floor and reached out to grab his friends hand.

But when he looked up, Roman had gone.

Part three

[pynkhues]

Forever replaying the image of Kendall Roy shoving a burrito in his mouth while talking about giving a blowjob and swallowing fast when he realises his dad is in the room. And people say this show is subtle lol (said with love)

Ahaha, exactly, anon!!

This is only semi-related to your ask, so I hope you don't mind me hijacking, but I saw the musical, Fun Home, at the theatre over the weekend, which is an adaptation of Alison Bechdel's memoir about coming out to her family only to discover that her father was closeted, and for him to die by suicide a few weeks later.

It's this profoundly affecting story, both in its original graphic novel form and as a theatre work, and it was my second time seeing it (I saw it in New York in it's Broadway debut in 2015!), and it's a musical that I think speaks a lot about sexuality, intergenerational trauma and family, which - - y'know. Inevitably made me think again about Succession, haha.

As much as I joke about Logan and Frank having had a little something-something in the past, I do think there's been degrees of genuine intimacy between them, regardless of whether or not that was sexual, and I think the show's made clear too that the kids have learnt how to have relationships, for better and for worse (although lbr, mostly for worse) through their father. It creates this sort of interesting argument where I think that we can read into Logan's behaviour and interiority through his kids.

The show always keeps Logan slightly more at arms length than it does the siblings, particularly in s4, but I think it's always made clear that Logan presents as a model his children try to shape themselves in, and frequently fail to live up to. We see that over and over again in terms of masculine performance and boys clubs, but we also see it in the ways they use sexually aggressive language, and the way they connect to other people. Almost everything they do is in response to Logan, whether that be in an effort to emulate or to contradict.

It creates this fascinating melting pot of stuff and I do think sometimes it's hard to tell where Logan's baggage ends and his children's begins, and I do think sex and sexuality is tangled up in that.

I guess this is just a long, roundabout way of me saying that intergenerational trauma and the way context (including time and place) can nurture, shape, dent or crush expressions of sexuality is one of the things at the core of Fun Home, and I really do see elements of that in Succession too. Logan's homophobic, of course he is, and he weaponises sexuality with all the subtlety of a brick through a window, but he's also a complicated guy, who I think has had complicated relationships, and I think the most complicated of those is with himself.

What he projects onto his children in the process of that is something I think I could speculate on all day.

[hageny]

Succession Thoughts: Gerri x Roman

AN: The first point in this post was requested by @thinkingfixatingobsessing​, so credit goes to her for the idea. 

WARNING: Mentions of child sexual abuse in point one. 

1. What In Here is Real?

A lot of fans tie Roman’s ‘dog cage’ experience to his adult need for degradation, and certainly there is a valid reason. The murky circumstances surrounding the incident(s) in his childhood--Roman remembering being forced; Connor and Kendall remembering him liking it; Connor remembering what their father said about “two fighting dogs” in relation to the incident--make it difficult to say how much of what Roman remembers is real and how much is his emotions skewing his memories. What is totally overlooked is the scene above, which takes place in Austerlitz. The family has just arrived at Connor’s ranch for the not-so-optional family therapy session when Roman says something very interesting to Connor, telling him that he plans to tell Alon Parfit, the group’s therapist, that Connor molested him as a child. Given Roman’s ‘dog cage’ revelation only one episode later, it struck me as very interesting that Roman makes a joke about what is for many a deep, childhood trauma. Now, I should clarify, I don’t believe Connor in any way abused Roman, and it seems fairly obvious Roman was just doing this for shock value, but there is a point to be made here. It seems pertinent to ponder whether Roman’s ‘dog cage’ experience could tie into a deeper, darker truth in his childhood. Maybe it’s possible that Roman actually did go into the cage willingly, and to some degree submitted--as much as someone who is emotionally/mentally abused as a child can--to his siblings’ game. All of them being children themselves, they wouldn’t have had the insight and maturity to understand his behavior was abnormal. What we do know of Roman’s experience is that it caused him to start wetting the bed, and he was eventually sent away to St. Andrews; again, he thinks this occurred against his will, Connor says he went willingly. What is interesting his Roman’s description of the effects of the ‘dog cage’ incident closely aligns with what may happen to a child who is molested. As Roman puts it, “Kendall locked me in a cage, I went weird, I started wetting the bed, and that’s why dad sent me away to St. Andrews.” Now, I should be clear, I am not a mental health professional of any sort, so all of what I say here is gleaned through years of reading about crime stories and second-hand research, but re-watching this scene caused me to remember that when Jon Benet Ramsey was murdered, many wondered--and still do--whether it was possible she was molested as a child due to her still wetting the bed at the age of six. From what we can gather, Roman would have been probably around the same age, if not older, when the alleged ‘dog cage’ incident occurred; his mentions of ‘going weird’ could be his best way to articulate what could have been a mental breakdown suffered during his childhood. His parents, having no clue what to do with him, would have naturally sent him to a rigorous, regimented school that, they believed, could have righted his ‘abnormal’ behavior. There are many signs children can possibly exhibit as a result of sexual abuse, but a few of them struck me because they describe even Roman’s adult behavior:

Regressive behaviors or resuming behaviors they had grown out of, such as thumb-sucking or bedwetting

Overly compliant behavior

Decrease in confidence or self-image

Change in mood or personality, such as increased aggression

We notice Roman’s lack of confidence constantly over the course of the series. In Sad Sack Wasp Trap, we see him studying his body carefully in the mirror, obviously displeased with what he sees, and then quickly buttoning up his shirt when Grace enters. As an adult there’s no question that he is--around his father, especially--overly compliant, going along with what Logan says and most of the time unwilling to buck him. While Roman is certainly not aggressive in the sense of being a danger to others, we do notice that his temperament borders on the aggressive quite a lot of the time, and he has a sadistic side, taking pleasure in tormenting others for his own amusement. We also know that the infamous Lester McClintock--Mo-Lester--was a friend of Logan’s; while it’s not stated that he abused any children, if he was a family friend, there is a possibility he was around Roman as a child. Connor, in Safe Room, does tell Willa that Logan wouldn’t let his kids get in the pool with Lester, so the possibility of his being a pedophile is there. Maybe the abuser was someone else. Maybe Roman wasn’t abused at all and I’m way off base. But I bring the point up for discussion only because as I pondered it, I myself began to wonder. 

2. Patrick Bateman

SPOILER ALERT: The ending to the movie, American Psycho. is discussed below. 

In I Went to Market, Shiv makes a quip when Roman tells her he has a hobby, saying to him, “Killing hobos isn’t a hobby.” Anyone old enough to remember--or old enough to have watched American Psycho or read the book--will remember that Patrick Bateman, the novel’s famous protagonist, descends slowly into violence as his disgust for society deepens, and begins literally killing homeless people on the streets of New York City, using homicide as an outlet for his uncontrollable rage. For the sake of convenience, I will discuss the movie a bit here, as I read the book years ago and do not remember much. The end of the movie is open to interpretation, leaving the audience to decide whether Bateman did actually kill anyone and it was cleaned up for him because he was wealthy, or whether he simply fever-dreamed the experiences. It’s interesting that the show draws a tie to Patrick Bateman and Roman, but having considered Bateman’s behavior there are some similarities. Roman, like Bateman, has a total disregard for the lower class, no more openly displayed than in the pilot episode where he tears up the check in front of the little boy at his family’s baseball game. He also, as noted in the previous point, has a temper, sometimes flying quickly off the handle when things don’t go his way. He is tightly wound, constantly agitated by the world around him, and driven by impulse. Where Bateman’s impulses lead him to murder, Roman’s take a different path, leading him to push the envelope of appropriate behavior for shock value, or drop and pick up girlfriends like objects. While Roman certainly would never kill anyone in a literal sense, he is not afraid to destroy those beneath him without a second thought, obliterating Vaulter simply because he wants to, manipulating the staff into admitting they want to unionize--which  might’ve saved them--and then handing his information over to his father so as to leverage himself and his desire to shut Vaulter down over Kendall’s desire to keep it open. The point is is that the show, by drawing a link between these two characters, could perhaps be suggesting to the audience that Roman’s behavior, like Bateman’s, requires an understanding of nuance. Bret Easton Ellis, who wrote the novel, grew up in an environment similar to Roman’s, coming from a wealthy family, deriving much of his literary material from what he witnessed as a child and an adult. It could perhaps best be said that both characters are a study in how environments shape people: what they bring out in them, and what they create that, for better or worse, can be left to bubble just below the surface. 

3. Only Good?

This point will be fairly brief, but I did find it pertinent to comment on how many people in the fandom--maybe younger people who don’t understand the show’s nuances--seem content to constantly cast Gerri as an artless bystander to the cruises situation when this is simply not the case. It could be that some don’t recall, but in the above scene from Pre-Nuptial, Shiv demands that ATN lay off Gil Eavis by blackmailing Gerri, telling her that if she doesn’t get her way that she will blow the lid on the scandal that centers around Lester McClintock. What’s most important is the fact that when Shiv mentions the “cruise division horror show”, Gerri never asks for clarification regarding Shiv’s point. This, obviously, is because Gerri doesn’t need it. While I am not suggesting Gerri knew all along about the scandal, her lack of need for Shiv to clarify what she means by “the cover-up” is an indicator that Gerri not only knew what was going on before the audience did, but perhaps also had a hand in hiding what was happening. There could be many reasons she did so, but I felt compelled to make this point because so often people believe Gerri was caught off-guard by what was occurring at Brightstar, when in fact our introduction to her in the show was intended to serve as an indicator of her character. The phrase, “stone-cold killer bitch”, used flirtatiously by Roman, was not only intended to amuse, but also to give insight into her character. In order to survive and thrive in Waystar, Gerri would have had to have been anything but an artless child, and her reputation as a ‘stone-cold killer’ is apt, as it describes the sort of character a person generally has to take on in order to climb the ranks of the corporate world. Gerri’s panic as the cruises situation unfolds is not due to the nature of the incidences (nor is Shiv’s for that matter)--it is due to the panic she feels at having to take the fall for what occurred. What actually happened, the facts of it, don’t really bother her. That’s what makes a killer. 

[sanders-sides-fic]

Soulmates we (didn’t) choose

He smiled as he bade the last of their guests farewell. It wasn’t even any of his own family members, he noticed, just strangers. Most weren’t even from his clan. Well, not that it should surprise him. He knew their opinions on him quite well. That didn’t mean that it didn’t sting, though. But he was determined not to let that show. And why would he? It wasn’t like that would change anything at all.

Next to him was his… his… Logan stood next to him, a curt nod and a firm handshake dismissing everyone he himself graced with his smile and an empty thanks for showing up at all. And he had no idea where Virgil had run off to, or when he’d done so.

Finally the last guest was gone and he let the smile fall from his lips. He didn’t want to be here, and he didn’t want to be alone with Logan. He wouldn’t have liked being alone with Virgil any better, to be fair, but he certainly didn’t want to be alone with Logan. So he schooled his posture into something acceptable again, took his distain out of his mimic even though he didn’t fake a smile and turned around. “I’m tired. We should find Virgil and head to the house.”, he said.

Logan looked at him for a few moments with that awfully unreadable face before he gave a nod, hands still clasped behind his back formally, and let his sapphire eyes scan the room. When nothing grabbed his attention, he sighed and looked back at Janus a little hesitantly. “Would you like to split up to search efficiently or go together?”

Well, Janus didn’t want to spent a lot of time with Logan alone. But as he already said earlier, he didn’t want to be alone with Virgil either. Besides, he was tired. So he shook his head in the end. “No, it shouldn’t take too long, so let’s stay together. That way we don’t have to wait when we found him.”

All he received from Logan as an answer was a nod.

They found Virgil about half an hour later, curled up on the windowsill of the bathroom with headphones on and his eyes closed. And Janus had to admit to himself that Virgil looked… cute. But he also looked asleep. So what now?

But before Janus could come up with an answer to that, Virgil opened his eyes slightly and jumped when he realised he wasn’t alone anymore. “Ah, I, uh…”, he muttered pushing his headphones back down to rest around his neck and jumped down from the windowsill. “I was just… Well… It got bit loud in there.”

Ah. Okay, Janus could respect that. He himself had wished to just disappear during most of it. But he had always felt the need to make others like him, so he’d stayed, tried to stay away from his… from Logan and Virgil and made idle conversation. If Virgil had actually acted on that wish, though, he didn’t blame him. So he flashed a quick smile and nodded. Stealing Logan’s thing, apparently.

Logan himself spoke up from behind him: “Yes, your mother did mention that you had a problem with heightened anxiety and large crowds. I can imagine this must have been quite draining for you.”

She did? Must have been when Janus had tried to get away from Logan. Well, no matter. “In that case it’s a good thing that the party is over now. We were planing on driving to the house, so if you would join us…”

Virgil nodded and the three of them went downstairs in silence. Logan didn’t seem to mind, but Virgil was obviously on edge, his eyes shifting to both Logan and Janus every few seconds. Still, Janus was too riled up about being here to say anything. So he found himself sitting in their drive home a little later, the driver up front having waited a little impatiently for them, with no word exchanged. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the cool glass. It was soothing.

The marriage had been an act of political sacrifice. That was why he hated this so much. He understood why, though. And he did understand why it had to be him, too.

The three clans had been in uproar again. They’d never gotten along quite well, of cause. Take a society and divide it into three parties based on their soulmarks and see what happens. But lately they had become more and more elitist again, more so than they had already been, and the prejudice against each other had grown stronger each day. They had been close to an eighth war of the clans at this point. So an arranged marriage between the three clans wasn’t as rediculous as Janus would have liked it to be. That was the only reason he was here at all, if he was honest.

And why them? Well. Janus didn’t know about the other two, but he’d been diagnose as soulless when he was six. Six years old, and suddenly the entire clan watched him with distaste and didn’t care about him anymore. Suddenly his parents hadn’t had time for him anymore, and parents forbade their children to be his friends. Six years when he learned that he had, in fact, no soulmate destined for him. 

It wasn’t impossible for a soulless person to have a soulmate anymore. After decades of research - research that got more barbaric the further back you looked - a ritual had been developed with which a soulbond could be placed on soulless people. It was risky for the body, and it only worked on soulless people. Originally, Janus thought he remembered reading, the goal had been to help soulless people like him. To offer them the opportunity of having their marriage viewed the same way any other marriage would be viewed or something. Yeah, well, that hadn’t worked. Instead any marriage without soulbond wasn’t really seen as a real marriage and when a soulless person hadn’t gone through a ritual yet they were discriminated against harshly. People would say that they had the choice to have a soulmate, so not making that choice was like social suicide.

That was also why the three of them had been chosen. Three young men, all in some way blood related to the clan leaders and all soulless. No wonder they’d decided to go with the arranged marriage approach.

Virgil, the youngest of the three, was the cousin of the Storm clan’s leader. Logan, the oldest, was the second cousin three times removed of the Forest clan’s leader, if Janus remembered correctly. That was why Logan had been called the one with the least important opinion in this marriage, the weak link. Janus had heard them talk earlier, and he’d hated it. And Janus himself was the Serpent clan’s heir. Or, he had been until he had been diagnosed as soulless at six years old.

That had been when his parents had taken in Remy, who very much did have a soulmate, and made him heir. Even though Remy had always been… irresponsible and uninterested in politics. If his clan was about to be destroyed, it wouldn’t surprise Janus too much. Sometimes a darker part of himself actually wished for that to happen, if he was being honest. Though it wasn’t as though he disliked Remy as a person, he still felt angry about it. They had basically adopted a son just to legally disown him, after all. And said adopted adopted son had just gone and disappeared one day, leaving him behind with two parents that couldn’t be bothered to spent any time on the soulless disappointment prior to his engagement. Sure, he’d left his phone number at home, but his parents couldn’t be bothered to give it to him either. Or pass the phone when they had their nightly check-up calls. So, yeah, he was salty about that. Just a bit.

Just like he was a bit salty to have been married of to two strangers as political sacrifice, and had been forced to do a ritual that was supposed to be his choice and was actually illegal to force someone into. But, well, since when had that interested anyone.

So now he had two “chosen soulmates” that he hadn’t chosen at all. And he was in the car driving to the house their families had had build for them as a wedding gift. Yay.

From what he understood his family had taken care of the architecture and the interior design, furnishings included; Logan’s family had taken care of all the technological knick-knacks, such as electric cars, computers, interactive boards in their separate studies, the TV room, smart home components and the like; and Virgil’s family had taken care of the outside. The garden, a small pond from what he’d heard, flowerbeds, trees, a glass pavilion, stuff like that. All the families had also given them some books for the library in the attic, and also enough money to live comfortably for a while, since none of them wanted to appear stingy to the other families.

The clans and their pride…

Janus wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep, but when he woke up it was in a bed he had no memories of getting into. At least no one had undressed him, he realized with relief. They may be married now, but they were still strangers other than that.

As quietly as he could, he sat up. On the other side of the bed was Logan. And that meant, on the other side of the bed. It looked as though the tall man had tried to put as much space between them as humanly possible. And at that thought, he could feel a little twinge in his chest. Ah. That was their newly formed soulbond, then? That little hurt feeling of knowing his… his husband didn’t want to be close to him. Even though he himself had no intentions of reducing the space between them either. Truly a hexing concept. Why did people choose this for themselves again?

He took a moment to admire Logan’s sleeping form. The way the sun hit his raven hair, making it look almost blue. The way his chest moved up and down rhythmically. The way the soft dust of freckles on Logan’s nose seemed to dance with every breath that moved his face. The way he had one hand not quite under his face but more against the front of his neck, the other arm cuddling the blanket almost desperately. The way he looked a little like a flamingo with one leg stretched out and the other bowed.

But then Janus saw the golden ring on Logan’s finder and caught himself, deciding to quietly leave the bedroom before he could turn into any more of a creep.

Maybe he could make breakfast for everyone. Cooking calmed him and he couldn’t exactly put off talking to his newly wed soulmates forever, as compelling as that sounded. Food was a good ice breaker. When you were eating it lowered your defenses a lot, so you were more honest and willing to talk about yourself. That was one of the reasons why many first dates took place in restaurants and such. So breakfast could be like the weirdest, most fucked up first date in the history of first dates.

If he was to find the kitchen, that was. He had caught a glimpse or two of the blue prints when his family had designed the house, but he’d never actually been here or seen what they came up with in the end. He only knew the earliest drafts, and knowing his father that meant that he actually had a disadvantage, because he didn’t know anything but felt he did.

He sighed again, putting his face into both his hands. He wanted to go home. Back to his room. Away from mandatory living arrangements and obnoxiously strong smells of freshly painted walls and new furniture. But if wished were horses, beggars would ride. As salty as he was about this arrangement, this was his life now. So he’d better get used to it quick and figure out a way to deal.

Coffee and cooking sounded really nice right about now. And what was the worst that could happen? He would get lost in the house of ridiculous size for three people? It wasn’t even half the size of any of the main families’ estates, so he guessed he’d be good.

…

He would deny until the day he died that he had found the library, the ballroom - And why was that even there?! It wasn’t like they would use that much. What exactly did their families expect them to do here? -, the poolroom, the tea room - Again, as beautiful and tranquil as it was, what for? -, one room obviously designated to art and painting including a dark chamber, as well as the music room - This… Okay, he would probably actually come back to this. He’d caught a glimpse of a piano and a guitar amongst the other instruments. He hoped his husbands wouldn’t mind if he played them. - before he spotted the rosy glass sliding door. It was open just enough for him to see the marble counter. When he entered, though, he realised that it had not been open enough to alert him of the presence of his second husband.

Virgil sat on the counter, a black cup clutched in hand, a pot of coffee right next to him. The bags underneath his eyes had grown more prominent since the last evening, or maybe that was just because he didn’t wear foundation yet. He looked kind of cute, how he watched the steam float up with half a smile on his lips, one leg pulled up against his chest and the other dangling down. His socks were mismatched, Janus noticed after a few moments. Similar, but one had a blue and the other a red stripe. He’d changed out of his suit, too. Instead he was wearing sweatpants and an oversized hoody. His purple hair was disheveled just a bit, not from sleep but from running his hands through it if Janus had to guess.

He was almost sorry to disrupt him. Still…

“Good Morning.”, he greeted with a nod and a friendly smile. Virgil jumped at those words, looking up startled and sliding down from the counter.

“Oh! Uh, hi. I was just, eh… coffee?”

Janus couldn’t help the chuckle, really, he couldn’t. Virgil was just way too cute for that. “No, thank you. I was just thinking about making a little something for breakfast. Don’t worry, you don’t have to get up on my behalf.”

Virgil relaxed a little, but eyed him wearily as he jumped back onto the counter. When Janus didn’t say anything and just went over to the cabinets he hummed and Janus could hear him take a sip. “Did you… sleep okay?”

Janus did not blush.

“Oh, yes. I was just a little tired. Apologies for falling asleep on you then.” He heard Virgil hum dismissively behind him, but didn’t look. Instead he searched the cabinets.

And, ah, yes, he would definitely need to go buy groceries later. They had essentially nothing. Or, rather just random things. Vegetable broth, eggs, ketchup, soy sauce, different spices, whipped cream, sugar, sweetener, a variety of instant coffees and chocolates, coffee powder he assumed Virgil had used earlier, a few types of juice, butter, cheese, apples and chocolate chip cookies. Who the hell had bought that? And How? Why? Just… why?

After a few moments Janus sighed. Alright, at least he knew something he could do with those ingredients. He was just hoping his husbands would like tamagoyaki.

As he got to work, he could feel Virgil’s eyes on him. But he didn’t say anything and Janus stayed quiet as well. He knew why Virgil would be confused about what he did there. Pouring juice and putting broth into a breakfast dish was weird when you first encountered it. But, well, it tasted good. Besides, he favoured the version free of alcohol anyways. Maybe that was because he had more practice in doing this version, though.

Janus had learned how to make the Japanese dish out of spite when he was younger. He’d been underage at that time, and his father had been annoyed with Remy’s preference for Asian take-out. So he, passive aggressive as he was, had perfected his tamagoyaki-making-skills and served it one day. Remy had been laughing, his parents hadn’t been so happy. The memory still brought the beginnings of a smile to his face. It was a bittersweet memory.

“So...” Janus finally asked as he carefully begun to roll up the egg based dish in the pan “How’s the bond treating you? Any discomfort anywhere?”

It was a horrible attempt at starting a conversation. But, Janus had to admit that he actually was a bit curious about it. The ceremony hadn’t taken too much of a toll on him, nothing more than a bit of annoying exhaustion, but he also knew that it was different for everyone. And that there were theories about the ceremony having worse side effects with the other clans, especially the Storm clan. Virgil... He wasn’t hurt, right? For some reason - Janus actually knew the reason already but preferred not to think about for now - his heart clenched at the thought of Virgil being in pain because of him.

But Virgil sighed. “Not really. I expected it to be bad, but it’s just... weird? Unfamiliar? Strange?” He sighed again, and Janus could hear him sip from the mug in his hands. “Logan said he’s good too. He’ll say something if anything changes. You?”

“Me? Oh, I barely noticed any difference, really.”

It was a lie. Such a lie. He could still feel the patches of scales on his body. There were some covering half of his face, some on the left side of his waist, some on his right leg and some on different parts of his wrists. Serpent, huh? How very fitting. Those scales had been unexpected, even a little humiliating. As a Serpent he should have received shape shifting abilities based on Virgil’s and Logan’s favorite animals. But, no, instead his skin had permanently changed, like a Storm’s, and portrayed his soulmates in colour, like a Forest’s. Embarrassing. And worst of all, it had been his favorite animal to top it.

Logan had received eyes that changed colours according to their mood, the usual type of invasive mark for his clan. Virgil for his left eye, Janus on the right side. Purple and gold respectively as the base colour for when there were no extreme feelings, apparently.

Virgil was now sporting beautiful flowers wherever either of them had touched his skin, a hydrangea still coiling around the hand Logan had taken at the wedding yesterday. He knew there was a chrysanthemum where he himself had come against Virgil’s collarbone during their dance, but he didn’t look at that. Anyways, Virgil’s skin had turned into a beautiful canvas for flowers of his soulmates’ touches, just like it was supposed to.

Just Janus was a freak once again. He couldn’t shift, his mark wasn’t the favorite animal of either of his soulmates and he’d just ended up as a weird mix of all three types of marks. He was pretty sure some of the guests yesterday had laughed at his new soul mark. But what had he expected, really? He’d been a joke to them for years now, and the Serpent’s mark was known to trap you in a certain form at times. Sure, that was only when your soulmates died, but...

Glad that he was a pretty good liar, Janus smiled at Virgil as he sliced up the dish and set the table behind his husband. Virgil didn't say anything for a while, but he could almost feel his husband's concern burning into him. So, after a few moments, he looked at him, raising an eyebrow. The silent prompting earned him a blush. Cute.

"Oh, uhm. I was just wondering how it… They look smooth, so I was wondering how they would, uhm… feel? Sorry for staring. I didn't mean to be, well. Yeah."

Virgil was not a sociable one, was he? He truly hoped they'd be able to break the ice soon enough. He couldn't really stand the thought of his husband staying a stranger who couldn't talk to him comfortably. Stupid bond.

"Do you want to touch them? I don't mind."

What was up with him? This wasn't how he usually would react to it. The bond was really messing with him, huh? And yet he couldn't find it in himself to mind as Virgil bit his lip, nodding hesitantly and slipping off the counter to walk towards Janus. He smelled like lavender. And when Virgil touched the scales on his face, after making sure Janus really didn't mind with a look in his eyes, he shivered. His hand was cold, Janus knew that from yesterday. But when they came into contact with his skin, it felt like his scales started to burn in the most pleasant way.

Had he become coldblooded in the scaled areas or was the bond reacting to the close proximity of his new soulmate? He wasn't sure. He didn't care much, though.

Not much later, Logan joined them. They sat down and ate. Breakfast was much like an awkward fist date. They found out that none of them had known much about the others before. Also, none of them had been very happy at home. Logan and Virgil both had someone to support them, though. Roman and Remus, and Patton. Janus would remember to invite those three to Christmas, though he doubted they would want to attend even if invited.

In Janus's opinion, they hadn't been treated quite as harshly as he himself. He didn't say it out loud, but they both had had people to support them, both had been loved, both had been accepted as part of the family. It truly did seem that Janus's parents were especially bad, with adopting someone just so he wouldn't be the heir and all that. And yet he didn't feel all too jealous. In fact, he was even more angry at the Forest and Storm family than his own. What a dumb thought.

Afterwards, Logan proposed to set boundaries and make rules they would all have to follow. Janus didn't like the latter part much, but Logan was nervous and Virgil admitted that it would make him feel better. So Janus cursed the bond again as he agreed to it. And as they worked on that list… Well. He didn't know either of his husbands. But normal soulmates didn't know each other either when the bond formed. And he hadn't chosen this, not at all. But he did secretly choose to make this work. Not that he would ever acknowledge it out loud, though.

Janus was a perfectionist, who lied in a fruitless effort to be liked.

Logan was a smart man, who tried to impress with his intellect.

Virgil was an anxious bean, who tried to avoid society altogether.

Their marriage was nothing but a political sacrifice. But that was only for now. With a bit of luck and a lot of effort, this morning after their wedding might be the beginning of something wonderful. And though Janus wasn't usually a very optimistic person, he found that he was willing to hope, just this once.

Truly, what a stupid bond.

Link to all soulmate AU stories: here

Taglist: @gattonero17 @alias290

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 10: Dukexiety

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 10: You are born with a birthmark, similar to a tattoo, that is shared by your soulmate.

Content warnings: allusions to past suicidal thoughts, just bad mental health past in general, vague bullying, swimming pools, past isolation, minor injury (broken ribs), general anxiety and self deprecation.

Word count: 3.9k

I was very low on time, and very exhausted from work, so I tried something new! I first discovered the concept of ‘bullet fics’ from @illogicallyinclined ‘s hockey au, GO CHECK IT OUT!!! (It’s living in my head rent free for a couple months now)

Virgil, Patton, Logan, and Roman have been friends for as long as they can remember. The first three met at a neighborhood barbecue when they were just a couple years old, and since they all live on the same block, became each other’s go to play buddies. They all stuck together in their first years of school together, the unbreakable trio, and then they met Roman. Or, Roman was pulled into their clutches and was therefore part of the group now. Patton saw him getting bullied across the playground and ran in to help, and now Roman is ‘eternally in their debt’. But they like him, so his extravagance is okay. 

They hung out constantly, all throughout middle and highschool, and they graduated together. It was a big moment for all of them; Patton, who almost got left a grade behind several times (his dyslexia went undiagnosed for several years and he was simply categorized as ‘dumb’), Virgil, who almost didn’t make it due to a mental health crisis, Logan, who was pressured heavily by his parents to move up a grade and had to fight tooth and nail to stay with his friends, and Roman, who’s bullying problems didn’t exactly lessen through the years, and was more than relieved to be leaving that behind. 

That summer, they pledge (mostly by Roman’s pleading) to try and do something fun every day. While Logan says this is improbable and Virgil groans at the thought of spending every day socializing, Patton is excited for the idea and “it’s two against two so you have to at least try!”

“That logic doesn’t make sense-” “Shut it, teach, just let us have this.”

So far, they’ve gone to the amusement park just out of town, gone to the park too many times to count, visited their local arcade that they hadn’t even stepped foot into since middle school, and tie-dyed a variety of clothing items in Patton’s backyard. Today, Patton is forcing them all to go to the pool, despite Logan claiming that they’re “feces infested, germ nesting grounds” and Virgil’s argument that “he burns like an unwatched pot of milk, how can you expect this from me”, Patton’s little puppy eyes do them all in.

Unfortunately, just as they’re leaving for the pool, Roman gets a call. At first it’s civil, and then his voice raises, and then he’s hanging up and throwing his phone onto his seat from where he’s standing next to the open car door. Angrily, he tells his friends that his mom got called into work and his dad’s on a business trip, so they need to take his brother with them.

At first, this raises some confusion.

“I was not under the impression that you had a little brother.”

“How old is he? Either way, I say, the more the merrier!”

Virgil is not thrilled at the idea of babysitting, since kids generally don’t like him, but he doesn’t voice his displeasure. 

Roman has to admit, with much embarrassment, that it’s actually his twin, who is just so chaotically irresponsible that he has lost Home Alone Privileges. He’s broken the TV, accidentally started fires, and lost their dog one too many times and his parents said no more. 

So he drives all the way back to his house, the three friends crammed into the back seat of his two door sedan (because the seats are A Pain to raise and lower and it makes more sense to give said brother the front seat instead of rearranging when they get him), grumbling under his breath about his stupid brother, stupid work, stupid stupid stupid-

Virgil is apt to agree with him, because if being around his three closest friends is enough interaction to mentally exhaust him, adding a new person to the mess is so much worse. He’s generally unexcited to meet this new person… until they pull up to the driveway.

And holy heck. 

This man is GORGEOUS. 

It takes a second for him to realize it’s Roman’s brother, because despite his first assumption, the two are not identical. They’re very similar, obviously related, for sure, but they are surprisingly easy to tell apart, and it’s not just because of the silver streak in the brother’s hair.

Which he should not find as hot as he does.

After Roman insists said brother does need to go get a bathing suit and no you can not go swimming in your jeans, he jumps into the passenger seat and, with as much energy as Roman has at Full Potential, introduces himself as Remus to the backseat audience. 

Patton and Logan both say small hello’s, but Virgil is just stuck.

Dear lord. Princey, why have you been hiding him from me?

When they get to the pool, Virgil makes a complete fool of himself getting out of the car. He trips on his seatbelt, landing directly in Remus’ arms, and looks up to see this devil man grinning at him with all the hubris of a greek god. Before he can say anything, Virgil pushes himself up and rolls his eyes (all while internally screaming) and walks away, joining Patton and Logan where they are just entering the main gate. 

He can’t help it; when in proximity of cuteness, his emergency mode is “be a dick”.

But it only gets worse from there.

When Virgil has an umbrella properly set up above a chair so he can save his skin from the sun (“I burn like unwatched milk on a stove. I’m not going in.”) and is comfortably situated with his phone and iced coffee, Remus steps in front of him to take his shirt off. 

He’s pretty sure Remus didn’t even mean to. It just… happened to be directly in his line of sight. 

As soon as the shirt is above his head, Virgil chokes on his drink, squirting iced coffee out of his nose and going into a coughing fit. Patton rubs his back while Roman tries not to laugh (and fails miserably), all while Remus is just watching him. Confused. (Logan is in the change rooms, because he insists on not wearing his bathing suit unless he is actively about to swim)

There’s more than just the sun issue that prevents Virgil from swimming. While his friend’s soulmarks are relatively small (Roman has a little one on his neck, Logan and Patton have a shared one just above their ankles), Virgil’s is a huge splotch that covers his entire side, reaching from just above his top rib to where his waistband usually lies. It’s all squiggles and lumps; Virgil once compared it to a storm cloud, but the lightning streaks were tentacles. It’s all in all, just… A Mess. And he doesn’t really like it. No one he’s ever met has had a soulmark like that, and he hates standing out.

When Remus takes off his shirt, in all his muscled glory, Virgil can’t miss the matching soulmark that trails down Remus’ side. It’s his, no doubt about it, but… that can’t be right, can it? Remus is so… full of life, dangerous, the epitome of chaotic; he’s everything Virgil is not. More so, he’s terrified of what Remus must think of him. He’s nothing special, he’s just an anxious ball of angst. What if he’s disappointed in who the universe decided to stick him with? 

After he’s done choking on iced coffee, and Logan is back from the change room, he realizes Remus is long gone, in the deep end of the pool trying to gather as many foam noodles as he can. They check that Virgil is alright, and when he merely gives them a shaky thumbs up, they take it at face value and dive in. Except Logan, who uses the steps like a mature adult, you children. 

He lets the rest of his coffee sit in the sun, until the sun melts all the ice cubes and it’s lukewarm to touch and overall, just gross, because suddenly he has no appetite. Yeah, this guy is gorgeous and he’s hopelessly gay for him, but... soulmate? That’s a lot for anyone to take in, much less someone with forty seven different kinds of anxiety. /j

If Virgil was uneasy taking his shirt off before, he sure as hell isn’t doing it now. No matter how much Patton and Roman plead with him, he stays glued to his chair, eyes flickering from his friends playing Marco Polo to watching his soulmate Remus. He’s turned the pool noodles into a giant raft and is trying to balance on it, like an absolute idiot.

An extremely good looking idiot. 

Virgil can’t help but notice that… he’s all alone. Roman, Patton, and Logan barely even throw him the occasional glance, much less invite him to hang out with them in the water. Worse than that, he seems relatively fine with it. It could just be that he doesn’t want to intrude on his brother’s friend group, but Remus doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to have those boundaries. Which kind of insinuates that he’s used to being alone, and Virgil can’t help but empathize. 

He notices it a lot, actually. The group meeting Remus also coincides with Roman and Virgil becoming more close; less of a frenemy relationship, and more of an actual friendship. Patton is delighted, because this means the three of them get to hang out at Roman’s huge place more often without their constant bickering (because when it got bad at one of their houses, Virgil’s was never more than a ten minute walk away when Roman finally pushed his last button. Here, they were all stuck.)

And every time they go over, he can’t help but notice the loud music coming from Remus’ room, or the man just sitting on the couch watching TV (which he tends to do shirtless, which does not help Virgil at all), or irritating Roman’s parrot. All in all, doing things alone. It strikes a chord in Virgil’s heart, which is something he’d never admit to another person.

Maybe that’s why, in the following week when Roman has the grand idea to go on a mountain hike, Virgil quietly asks if they could invite Remus. At first, Roman is adamant. “He’ll just ruin things, he doesn’t appreciate nature, he’s annoying!” But Patton claims “The more the merrier” and Logan doesn’t have any particular stance, so he begrudgingly invites Remus.

Who very excitedly accepts. 

The trail Roman visited is quite a ways out of town, so they cram back into his tiny car and start the drive. Patton claimed shotgun, so him and Roman have derailed into an animated conversation about cartoons, while Logan just pops in his earbuds and leans his head against the window. For the longest time, Remus and Virgil sit in awkward silence, because neither of them could get a word in edgewise to the front seat conversation even if they tried, and they don’t… really… know what to say… to each other. 

It’s Remus who finally breaks the silence (shocker).

“Roman tells more you’re the one who wanted to invite me.”

“Yeah, well, you seemed lonely. And… I mean, you’re Roman’s brother. Can you really be that bad?”

He means it as a joke, but he sees the light in Remus’ eyes die slightly. The tone of his voice doesn’t falter though, remaining as joyful and quirky as always. 

“I’m a lot more fun than Roman. People just don’t like to see it that way.”

“Setting your kitchen curtains on fire is fun?”

“If you were there, you’d understand!”

And they keep talking, maybe trailing into borderline flirting, for the whole ride. Virgil is surprised at the lack of tenseness in his shoulders, because though Remus is loud and a little unsettling, he is incredibly patient when Virgil has trouble forming his sentences and doesn’t interrupt him when he’s talking; an incredible help to someone with crippling anxiety. Underneath his exterior, he’s actually… incredibly soft? What?

By the time they pull up to the trail, Remus is actually starting to grow on Virgil. Since Patton and Roman are still so into their debate, and Logan seems content listening to his music (or podcast, but who really knows), they continue talking as the hike starts. The shorter boy can’t help but glance at the other every few seconds, seeing their soulmark just peeking past the edge of his baggy tank top. If Remus notices, he says nothing. 

And he learns Remus was bullied a lot through school, just like Roman was, but instead of finding a group that supported him, he broke off as a lone wolf. He came off scary or maybe just a little bit crazy to anyone he tried to befriend, since his social skills were pretty lacking due to disuse and his incredible lack of filter, so he learned early that staying alone hurt less. And in that time, he just became more and more… Like That… because he literally never had peers to mature with. 

The hike is a long one. Remus is pretty eager to spill his guts, probably since he was never able to before, so Virgil feels obligated to do the same. He tells Remus about his anxiety, about his mental health issues during school, about his home life and his hobbies, and the fact that there are more people around just fades into the background. It could as well be just them, and Virgil starts to wish it was. 

So of course, that’s when everything goes to shit.

A mountain biker comes ripping down the path, too quick to even process, and Virgil is caught off guard. Of course, he’s not walking near the edge of the path, because he has some shred of common sense, but the bike speeding by him causes him to flinch and stumble to the side; an instinctual reaction. Except his instincts decided to not remember until the last second that he’s at the edge of the trail.

It’s almost like happening in slow motion, his foot goes over the edge, and he doesn’t realize what’s about to happen until his other foot is already off the ground, ready to take that next step back, and he’s falling. Luckily (as lucky as one can be in this situation), it’s not a straight drop, just a decently long, steep slope that’s essentially just a bunch of rocks and weeds. 

He hears his friends scream his name, sees a hand fly out to catch him, and it just snags the edge of his jacket before he’s freefalling for a split moment. One heart stopping, never ending, eternal and all too short moment of weightlessness where he twists his body, hoping to try and brace himself, and then he meets the slope.

Hard.

His breath leaves him in a wheeze and he distinctly hears a loud snap. Through his pain addled brain, he tries to stop his slide further down by grabbing anything; rocks, roots, dirt. It’s useless.

He stops naturally, on a small ledge several meters from the top before the slope continues. For a moment, he can only lay there, trying to breathe through the intense pain flaring through him pretty much everywhere, not to mention the sheer levels of pure panic numbing his thoughts. He stares at the clouds, watching them as they float by, each breath spreading fire through his torso but at the same time strangely numb.

And then, “VIRGIL!”

His eyes shoot open (wait, when did he close them?) to see Remus’ concerned face above his. If the messied state of his outfit is any indication, this man just slid down the slope to catch up to him. His hands are hovering above Virgil, scared to touch, but more scared that Virgil is going to keep falling.

“Fuck,” is Virgil’s eloquent response. He tries to take a deep breath, tries to do his breathing pattern to calm his nerves, but NOPE. Wrong move. 

He immediately gasps and his hands fly to his ribs, another flair of pain shooting up them. Remus’ hands grab his, pulling them away from his torso, holding them securely. “I think you have some broken ribs. That was… one hell of a fall. We need to get you back up to the trail though, okay?”

Virgil can only nod his head, allowing Remus to help him stand, biting his lip so hard to keep from crying out that his lip splits. It hurts.

Trust Logan to come up with ideas on the fly. The biker must have stopped when he realized Virgil had fallen (at least he didn’t just keep driving), because when Virgil opened his tear filled eyes, there was a bike tire just a few feet from his face. He followed the frame of the bike, up to where Roman was holding the other wheel and standing precariously on the slope. Logan is clinging onto his hand, one foot on the slope and one on the actual trail, and if Virgil has to guess, the biker and Patton are just out of sight, keeping Logan steady. 

Virgil knows it’s going to hurt before Remus even warns him that it will, watching the taller man get a good grip on the bike wheel, before holding Virgil’s wrist with as much force that can muster without actively cutting off circulation. Virgil holds onto his wrist in return, Remus gives a shout to go ahead, and the human/bike chain they’ve created begins to pull them up. 

And oh lord, if Virgil thought just laying down was painful, tripping and stumbling up a steep incline is another world altogether. This time, biting his lip doesn’t work and he lets out a few muffled cries as the team works together, Remus squeezing his wrist every time a choked sound escapes his lips, mind too full of pure agony to even curse.

When they finally step foot onto the trail again, Virgil is in tears, and he is too far gone to even care. The biker is incredibly apologetic, offering his contact information and bidding them adieu when they insist that they’re okay now, and takes off, at an admittedly much slower pace than he was at before. 

Logan, the only one of them with proper (and extensive) first aid training, forces Virgil to sit, giving him time to find a position that puts as little pressure on his ribs as possible, before crouching in front of him.

“Let me check if they’re broken.”

His hand reaches out towards Virgil’s shirt and all the alarm bells start BLARING. No. No, no, no, no, no. Before he can restrain himself, he reaches out and slaps Logan’s hand away, sending another wave of pain through him. The pain doesn’t matter though, not in comparison to Logan possibly revealing his soulmark. 

Logan doesn’t understand this reaction properly (when does he ever), so he tries again.

“Virgil, I need to check the extent of the damage. A cracked rib means you can still make it back to the car. A broken rib would require emergency services and probable air lifting to prevent further damage, like a punctured lung.”

“Fine,” Virgil hisses through clenched teeth, bitterly understanding his logic, “Just… don’t take the shirt off.”

He tries to say it to only Logan, but it’s clear the other’s heard it by the way they exchange confused glances. Yes, they’ve never seen Virgil without a shirt, except they’d always pegged that up to insecurities. Wouldn’t those take a back seat in a possible medical emergency? 

Logan complies, however, and slides his hand under the hem of his shirt without moving the fabric. He runs his hands slowly up each rib, concentrating heavily, until he reaches one midway up and Virgil yelps, instinctively flinching backwards.

Startled by the reaction (it’s his first time actually administering first aid like this, give him a break), Logan jumps back, forgetting his hand is still under Virgil’s shirt.

His hand moves up.

Virgil moves back.

And the hem of his shirt rises up his chest for just a moment.

A moment’s all that’s needed, though. When you notice something that you’ve seen yourself a hundred times over, admiring this way and that in the mirror to commit it to memory, it only takes a glance to recognize it.

Remus only needed that split second of the shirt riding up to notice the lower half of the soulmark, and he definitely did notice it, if the way his jaw drops is anything to go off of. Virgil winces again, not from pain this time, and looks down at his shoes, abhorring the awkward silence that ensues.

The other three don’t understand, watching the two of them with varying levels of confusion, until Remus blurts:

“Are you my soulmate?”

And everything clicks into place. Virgil nods mutely, still not looking up, afraid of his reaction. Would he be upset Virgil kept it a secret? Would he be disappointed? Would he would he would he-

“Oh thank GOD!”

That’s… not the reaction he was expecting. He looks up to see Remus grinning like a child on their birthday, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“I mean, if I’d want anyone to be my soulmate, it would be you! You don’t hate me, which a lot of people do, and you actually listen to me, which is nice, and not to mention you’re super hot, like the whole emo thing is just-”

“Remus!” Roman screeches, cutting him off, “You’re embarrassing him, let him breathe!”

It’s the first time Roman has ever come to Virgil’s defense, and he’s only vaguely happy about that. Truth is, he’s so much more wrapped up in the fact that Remus is actually happy that he doesn’t even notice Logan’s back to touching his ribs until another sharp pain brings him back.

“They’re definitely not broken. Fractured, at worst. Either way, you’re going to the hospital. Only question is, can you get down to the car?”

Virgil wants to nod, wants to go along with no problem, but he can barely take a step before his knees almost give out. If he could double over without making everything worse, he would. 

Remus doesn’t see this as a problem, though, eagerly offering Virgil to ride on his back until they get to the bottom. The shorter is, obviously, reluctant to this plan, seeing as how it’s a decently long trail and he isn’t that light, but damn, his soulmate insists, and next thing he knows, he’s gingerly holding onto Remus’ shoulders as he pushes back into a standing position.

(If he wasn’t already super hot, he’s strong, too? Virgil has struck the literal jackpot.)

He buries his face into the crook of Remus’ neck, trying not to wince at every jolt and bump as they maneuver their way down the hill, all conversation halted so they can focus on the two of them. Roman walks in front of them and Patton and Logan behind, ready to jump into action at any sign of stumbling. 

But it’s okay, it actually is, Virgil realizes as they’re making their way down the hill. Sure, they only really bonded today, but they also bonded in a day, and if that’s not telling of the future they’ll have together, whether romantic or platonic (they still need to talk that out), it’s gonna be okay.

Anyone who’s willing to throw themselves into harm's way and carry you down a mountain has got to be a worthy soulmate.

[emakenz]

ive showed my art on here but idk if i wanna rn since its sonic related KnJJjfjd

i mean . Fuck it

These are all concepts ive conjured up

FUCKING comet, savage, and the blue and red guy are my faves

The blue and red guy is smthn eggman made to fuck around. He had used failed shadow prototypes dna that he could salvage, so theres regular black arms alien and reg hedgehog dna there, and also he had dna samples he stole from sonic when he turned werehog. And well. He fused them together. Boom . Black arms werehog >:)

"Savage the Feral" is the red cats alias, his real name is Cassidy Growell. He is inspired by the marvel character Wolverine, aka Logan Howlett, whos my fave super power guy ever. Logans just so cool man

The various shadows and sonics are concepts of different styles and designs for the characters. I have been bored by their current game models as they have been the same for like 10 years dude. They need a CHANGE. Make new models or add something to their designs do SOMETHING please my children need saving damn it

The teal guy is an early rendition of comet, he was originally meant to be a clone of shadows based off of mephiles but not an android but organic clone, but i scrapped that as i have other plans hehe hohk

Comet has his info on the sketch but you can barely see it so uh. Comet is an alien that LOOKS like a hedgehog but isnt, he fell to earth in a giant egg which worked as a mobile pod sort of. Okay think about dragon ball z, how goku was found in a weird space pod, or superman being found in a space pod, or how in the matrix you see neo (keanu) wake up in that gooey pod that kinda looked like shadows container thing from sonic heroes. Its kinda like that but organic. It's his actual egg. He fell to earth in his egg which cracked on contact, it created a huge crater. He was found by rouge who thought his egg was a huge gem of sorts, instead of a gem she was like oh wtf is this its bROken NO and she saw fluid seep from the shell and saw something move inside and she freaked out. She alerted shadow to come to her, luckily he wasnt far, to investigate. Shadow opens the egg all the way and WOAH theres a weird baby in the thing wtf. Anyway rouge becomes comets guardian/mother >:)

Im afraid of people copying these characters/designs/concepts so uh yeah please dont do that it hurts my ego man. Please share your thoughts and comments with me id love to hear others input of any of this! Ive been hyperfocused on sonic designs as of late so yeah. I can also show my other concepts too and older art if anyones interested lol