#but he married little miss peaceful protest?????

[infectiouspiss]

my grandmother held sit down protests in the middle of the streets to force the local council to put in crossings???? holy shit ?????

[pandapetals]

Healing

Something shifts in you after Jean and Scott have their baby making you wonder if you and Logan should have kids.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair, trying for a baby, angst, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of blood, triggering topics, self-loathing, healing

a/n: been sitting on this one for a while. Not going to lie this fucking hurt to write. I cried so much. I have never been through this but i know a few people who have and i can’t even imagine the pain and strength they have.

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

divider credit: @enchanthings

Jean beamed, her face glowing with a soft pride, as she held her baby boy close. His tiny hands curled around the fabric of her shirt, his chubby face peaceful as he dozed off in her arms. Over the past few months, you’d watched him grow from a fragile newborn, all soft whimpers and sleepy eyes, into a curious, squirming infant. It seemed like only yesterday he was swaddled and still, but now here he was, wide-eyed and alert to the world.

Scott stood beside Jean, his posture softer than usual, his typically intense gaze almost watery as he watched her gently rock their son. He looked at them both like they were the center of his universe. A quiet awe in his expression that made something tighten in your chest.

"He’s so precious," you said quietly, unable to tear your eyes away from the little family in front of you. The warmth between them radiated out, a kind of contentment that was hard to describe but impossible to miss.

Jean glanced up at you with a knowing smile, one that made you feel as though she could read you like an open book. "He is, isn’t he?" she said, her eyes sparkling. Then, almost without thinking, she added, "Makes you wanna have one, I bet?"

The words hung in the air for a second too long, and you felt your breath catch, an awkward chuckle slipping out before you could stop it. "Oh, kids aren’t really my thing," you blurted, your voice a little too quick, a little too high. "I mean, I love kids—who doesn’t—but, me... well..."

You trailed off as both Jean and Scott turned toward you, exchanging a quick, subtle glance. Their expressions were a mix of curiosity and mild confusion, like they hadn’t expected that answer, like maybe they were wondering why someone like you—someone married to Logan, no less—would feel that way.

The truth was, you’d never really discussed it. Not in depth. Sure, it had come up in passing a few times, but it was one of those conversations that lingered at the edges of your relationship, something neither of you had pushed too hard to figure out. Logan, with all his complications and dark past, never really seemed the type to want a family. And you? You weren’t sure if you did, either. It was easier not to think about it, to enjoy the life you had now—the two of you, perfectly in sync, no added weight of expectation.

But something had shifted recently. Maybe it was watching Jean and Scott, the way they orbited around their son like he was their entire world. Or maybe it was something deeper you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel until now.

"Do you want to hold him?" Scott asked, his voice gentle, trying to break the tension he had sensed creeping in.

You shook your head quickly, hands coming up in protest. "No, it’s fine, really—"

Before you could finish the thought, Jean was already moving, carefully transferring her sleeping son into your arms. You froze for a moment, a rush of panic flooding through you as the small, warm weight of the baby settled against your chest.

"There you go," Jean said softly, stepping back with a smile.

For a heartbeat, you felt a strange rush of anxiety—what if he started crying? What if you held him wrong? As the baby squirmed lightly against you, something softened inside. His small face scrunched up for a moment, but he didn’t stir, and before you knew it, the panic eased into something warmer, something you weren’t sure you were ready to name yet.

"You’re a natural," Jean whispered, her smile widening as she watched you gently cradle her son.

You glanced down at the tiny face, his soft breathing rising and falling steadily, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away. There was something so... peaceful about it. The weight of him in your arms, the delicate rise and fall of his chest. It was calming in a way you hadn’t expected. Your mind drifted, just for a second, imagining what it would be like to have a child of your own, one that looked up at you with Logan’s piercing eyes, with his stubbornness and strength.

The thought caught you off guard, making your chest tighten. You had always been so certain that kids weren’t part of the plan, or at least, that’s what you told yourself. Now with this small life cradled in your arms, you weren’t so sure.

Logan’s low, familiar voice broke through your thoughts. "There you are," he muttered, stepping into the room. His eyes softened immediately when he saw you holding the baby, though he tried to hide it behind his usual gruff expression. "Didn’t know I was married to a babysitter now."

You smirked, though your heart was racing a little. "Jean practically forced me."

Logan grunted in response, but there was a subtle shift in his expression as he watched you. His eyes lingered on the baby for a moment longer than usual, and you could see something flicker there. He stepped closer, his hand gently resting on your lower back, warm and reassuring.

"Doesn’t look like you mind too much," he said, his voice softer than usual, his eyes meeting yours.

You shrugged, feeling the baby shift slightly in your arms. "It’s... nice," you admitted quietly, surprising even yourself with the truth of it. "Holding him, I mean."

Logan didn’t say anything right away, but you could feel him studying you, the way he always did when he was thinking something over. Finally, he nodded toward the baby, his voice low. "You look good like that."

You blinked, caught off guard. "Like what?"

His eyes dropped to the baby in your arms before meeting yours again. "Holdin’ him," Logan said quietly, his voice rough but filled with something more. "You look... happy."

You smiled, but there was a knot forming in your chest now, a new kind of weight pressing down. You couldn’t shake the image from your mind—Logan, holding a baby of your own, the two of you together as parents. It wasn’t something you had let yourself picture before, but now that it was there, you couldn’t unsee it.

Later that day, as you watched Logan outside, talking to Jubilee with that soft, fatherly look he sometimes wore, it hit you again. The way he was with her, with Rogue or the younger kids at the mansion—it was so natural, so instinctive. He had this way of guiding them, protecting them, even if he’d never admit it out loud.

You started to wonder if maybe Logan would make an incredible father. As much as you tried to deny it, the thought made your heart ache.

When Logan caught you watching him, he smirked as his eyebrow raised in curiosity. "What’re you lookin’ at?"

You shook your head, smiling softly. "Just you."

Logan came closer, wrapping his arm around your waist, his usual smirk softening. "Yeah?" he murmured. "What’s that look for?"

You hesitated, biting your lip. "Just... thinking."

"‘Bout what?"

You glanced up at him, your eyes searching his, and for the first time in a while, you didn’t brush the thought aside. "Logan," you started softly, your voice unsure but steady, "have you ever thought about... having kids?"

Logan’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the question. He was quiet for a moment, his brow furrowing as he considered your words. Then, after what felt like forever, he sighed softly, pulling you a little closer. "I dunno," he admitted quietly, his voice rough. "Never thought I’d be good at it. But... maybe." His gaze met yours, something unspoken lingering between you. "What about you?"

You swallowed, your heart pounding. "I think... maybe I’m starting to."

Logan didn’t say anything, but his hand slipped into yours, his calloused fingers curling around yours. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his silence saying more than words could at that moment.

𓂃

In the days that followed, you couldn’t shake the thought from your mind. It was as if a switch had flipped inside you, and now you were noticing every little thing Logan did—the way he spoke softly to one of his students who was struggling, the way he offered a stern but patient lecture to one of the kids running down the hallway, his voice rough with that familiar gruffness but still carrying a warmth that hinted at something deeper. Every time, your heart tightened, as though it was trying to tell you something you hadn’t quite figured out yet.

The idea of having kids had never seemed urgent. It was like a vague notion floating somewhere in the distance, something other people did after getting married. For you and Logan, it hadn’t felt like a natural progression. You liked your life the way it was—just the two of you, wrapped up in each other. Lazy evenings spent tangled up on the couch, quiet mornings with coffee and teasing banter, spontaneous trips to the city where you wandered hand-in-hand without any real plan.

Now, with every small act of kindness, you saw Logan show, you couldn’t help but imagine him as a father…and it scared you.

The thought of having a child felt like a seismic shift—one that would change the landscape of everything you loved. It wasn’t just about the sleepless nights or the endless responsibilities. It was deeper than that. You worried that the closeness you shared with Logan, the way your lives intertwined so effortlessly, would somehow slip away. That all the little moments you cherished would be replaced by the constant demands of a tiny person who needed everything from you, leaving little room for the quiet intimacy you had now.

Most of all, you worried that your love for each other would get... lost. That Logan, with all his quiet strength and unspoken fears, would pull away when faced with the weight of fatherhood.

It was late one evening, the two of you curled up in bed, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the lamp on the nightstand. Logan was lying on his back, one arm behind his head, the other draped over you, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on your shoulder. You were nestled against his side, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, but your thoughts were racing.

You hesitated before speaking, your voice barely above a whisper. "Logan," you began, your tone uncertain. "Can I ask you something?"

He tilted his head slightly, looking down at you with those piercing hazel eyes, his expression softening as he nodded. "Always," he said quietly.

You swallowed, trying to find the right words. "Do you ever... do you ever feel like we might lose what we have if things change?"

Logan’s brow furrowed slightly, a hint of concern in his eyes. "What do you mean, darlin'?" His voice was low like he was afraid to push too hard.

You took a deep breath, your fingers absently tracing the outline of his chest. "I mean, if we had a kid," you whispered, the words feeling strange on your tongue. "If we became parents… I’m worried that we’d lose... us. The way things are now."

Logan was silent for a moment, his hand stilling on your shoulder as he considered your words. "You think a kid would take that away?" he asked, his voice gruff but gentle.

"I don’t know," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "I just—everything would be different. We wouldn’t have these quiet nights or our spontaneous trips. We’d have to give up a lot." You paused, feeling the weight of your confession settle between you. "I’m scared that I won’t have as much time for you. Or that… you’d pull away."

Logan’s gaze softened, a deep sigh escaping him as he pulled you closer, his arm tightening around your shoulders. "I get it," he murmured. "I’m not gonna lie, I’ve thought about that too." He hesitated, his eyes drifting to the ceiling for a moment before returning to yours. "Hell, I’m scared of a lot of things when it comes to havin’ a kid. What if I’m no good at it? What if I… pass on the worst parts of me? All the anger, the darkness?"

You reached up, your hand cupping his jaw as you turned his face toward you. "You wouldn’t," you said firmly, meeting his gaze with unwavering certainty. "You’re more than that, Logan. So much more."

He looked at you, his expression raw. "I try to be," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "But there’s a lotta things I can’t control. And I don’t know if I’d be any good at raisin’ a kid. I’ve spent most of my life tryin’ to protect people by keepin’ ‘em at arm’s length. How do I protect someone I can’t keep away from everything bad in the world?"

His words sank into you, and you could see the fear in his eyes, the way his past haunted him in a way that was hard to put into words. It wasn’t just about fatherhood—it was about feeling worthy of it. Of deserving that kind of joy.

"You protect me," you whispered, your thumb gently stroking his cheek. "Every day. And you do it without keeping me at a distance. You let me in, Logan. That’s not easy, but you did it. You do it. And if you can do that, then I think you’d make a great father."

Logan’s eyes searched yours, his breath hitching slightly as your words settled in. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there like he was drawing strength from the contact. "I’m not sure I deserve you sayin’ that," he murmured against your skin. "But it means more than you know."

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your hand slipping down to rest over his heart, feeling its steady rhythm beneath your touch. "I’m scared too," you confessed. "I’m scared of everything changing, and of not being able to handle it. But I’m also scared of… what if we don’t even try? What if we let fear decide for us?"

Logan’s expression softened, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles as he held your hand. "If we do this," he said, his voice low and steady, "we do it together. No matter what. It won’t always be easy, but…" He hesitated, his voice breaking just slightly. "I’d rather face that with you than spend the rest of my life wonderin' if we shoulda tried."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, and suddenly, the idea didn’t seem as overwhelming as it had before. It was still scary, yes, but knowing that Logan was just as unsure, just as scared, made it feel more... real.

You pressed a kiss to his lips, letting it linger, your fingers curling into his hair as you drew him closer. "So… we're gonna try for a baby?" you whispered, the words slipping out softly.

Logan’s arms tightened around you like he was anchoring himself to the moment. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes searching yours with a mix of uncertainty and quiet determination. There was a heartbeat of silence before he nodded. "Yeah," he murmured, the sound almost lost in the space between you. Then, with more conviction, he added, "Yeah, why the hell not." His lips curved into a small, genuine smile.

𓂃

Trying for a baby had started out exciting—a new chapter to explore with Logan. You’d always had an active and passionate sex life, and the thought of intentionally building a family together made your heart swell. 

It wasn’t the act of trying that was hard—it was the waiting, the endless cycle of hope and disappointment. You had been so sure, so confident at the start. But now, after months of trying and nothing to show for it, doubt had begun to creep in like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

Standing by the window in the quiet library, you stared out at the sprawling gardens, but your gaze was unfocused. Your mind was too busy unraveling itself. Why hadn’t it happened yet? Was it you? Was something wrong with you?

Your thoughts drifted back to the last four years of marriage with Logan. You couldn’t help but wonder why you hadn’t gotten pregnant sooner, even by accident. Not once had there been a scare, not even a close call. The questions swirled in your mind, each one more suffocating than the last. Was it my body? Did I do something wrong? Am I broken?

“Hey.” Logan’s familiar voice broke through the haze. You hadn’t even heard him enter the room.

You felt the warmth of his arm as he wrapped it around your shoulders, his touch gentle, steady. “What’s wrong, darlin’?” he asked, his voice low and filled with concern.

You stiffened slightly, shrugging his arm off and taking a small step away. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” you whispered, your gaze still fixed on the window.

Logan hesitated. He wasn’t the type to push when you didn’t want to talk, but this—this distance, the way you’d been pulling away lately—was starting to worry him. He could see the weight you were carrying, the exhaustion etched into your face, even though you tried to hide it behind small smiles and quick deflections.

“Sweetheart,” he said softly, his voice almost a plea, “you don’t have to talk to me if you’re not ready. But… you gotta talk to someone. You can’t carry this by yourself.”

His words broke something loose in you, and you bit your lip hard to keep it from trembling. A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it. “I just don’t understand,” you finally said, your voice cracking. “I thought I’d be pregnant by now. I thought it’d be easy… but it’s not, and I can’t stop feeling like—”

“Like what?” Logan pressed gently, stepping closer but keeping his distance enough to not crowd you.

“Like a failure,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The words felt heavy leaving your mouth, as if speaking them made them more real.

Logan’s expression softened instantly, his brow furrowing with a mix of concern and heartache. “Darlin’,” he said quietly, closing the gap between you and gently cupping your face in his hands. He tilted your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“You listen to me,” he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “You’re not a failure. Not even close. Don’t you dare think that.”

“But, Logan,” you choked out, your tears now spilling freely. “What if it’s me? What if there’s something wrong with me? You deserve someone who—”

“Stop,” he interrupted firmly. His thumbs brushed the tears from your cheeks, his hazel eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “Don’t do that to yourself. Don’t put all this blame on you. We don’t know why it hasn’t happened yet, but it sure as hell isn’t because you’re not enough. You’re everything to me.”

Your knees felt weak at the raw sincerity in his voice, and you leaned into his touch, letting his warmth hold you together. “I just… I don’t know how to stop feeling like this,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

Logan pulled you into his chest, his strong arms wrapping around you in a way that made you feel shielded from the weight of the world. “We’ll figure it out,” he murmured into your hair. “Together. However long it takes, whatever we have to do—we’ll figure it out. But I need you to promise me somethin’, okay?”

“What?” you asked, your voice muffled against his chest.

“Promise me you’ll stop beatin’ yourself up over this. You’re not weak, darlin’. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known. And if this doesn’t happen the way we planned, it doesn’t change a damn thing about how much I love you.”

His words wrapped around your heart like a warm blanket, soothing the ache that had been gnawing at you for weeks. You tilted your head back to look at him, your hands resting on his chest. “You always know what to say,” you whispered, a faint, watery smile tugging at your lips.

He gave you a small, lopsided grin, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Guess I’ve got a good reason to.”

You took a deep breath, feeling a flicker of hope reignite in your chest. “You know, sometimes I wonder if this is harder on you than you let on,” you said softly.

Logan hesitated, his gaze dropping for a moment before he looked back at you. “It’s hard,” he admitted. “But not because of me. It’s hard seein’ you like this. You’ve always been the one who makes things feel right, and I hate seein’ you doubt yourself.”

Your heart swelled at his honesty, and you leaned up to press a soft kiss to his knuckles. “I love you so much, Logan. No matter what happens, I’m just glad I have you by my side.”

His hazel eyes softened, and he pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours. “I love you more, darlin’. We’re in this together, okay?”

You nodded, letting the warmth of his embrace settle over you like a safety net. The quiet hum of the library wrapped around you both, cocooning the moment in a kind of stillness you hadn’t felt in weeks.

𓂃

It was a few weeks later, and life had settled back into its usual rhythm—teaching classes, grading papers, and the occasional chaos that came with living in a mansion full of mutants. But something was… different. At first, you didn’t think much of it. Everyone felt off sometimes, right?

The fatigue came first. You yawned at least five times during one of your lectures, earning amused glances from your students. “Long night, Professor?” one of them teased, and you waved it off with a laugh, though you were secretly confused. You’d gone to bed early the night before, and yet you still felt like you could curl up under your desk and sleep for hours.

Then, there was lunch. Your usual favorite—whatever Logan had grilled up the night before—suddenly turned your stomach. The smell alone had you rushing out of the dining hall, your hand clamped over your mouth as you tried to breathe through the nausea. Jean had given you a concerned look, but you waved her off, blaming it on some "bad leftovers."

By the third day of these strange symptoms, you couldn’t ignore them anymore. Your mind began to piece things together— the fatigue, the nausea, the way your favorite coffee suddenly tasted too bitter to drink. A flicker of hope sparked in your chest, but you tried to push it down. Don’t get ahead of yourself, you told yourself. It could be anything.

Still, the thought wouldn’t leave you alone. That night, after Logan had gone to bed, you slipped out of your shared room and quietly headed to the mansion’s lab. You grabbed a pregnancy test, your hands trembling slightly as you tucked it under your arm and snuck back to the bathroom.

What if it’s negative again? What if this hope I’ve been holding onto is just… nothing?

But then, something shifted. A small voice in the back of your mind reminded you of Logan’s words. We’re in this together.

Finally, you took a deep breath and glanced down at the test. Your heart stopped.

Two lines.

Tears welled in your eyes, your hand flying to your mouth as a soft, disbelieving laugh escaped you. Positive. You were pregnant.

For a moment, you just stood there, staring at the test as joy bloomed in your chest, spreading through you like sunlight breaking through clouds. The months of waiting, of disappointment, of wondering if it would ever happen—all of it melted away in that instant.

You couldn’t wait to tell Logan. He deserved to know right away. But you wanted it to be special, something he’d never forget.

The next morning, you woke up earlier than usual, your excitement too much to keep contained. While Logan was still asleep, you snuck into the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets for supplies. If there was one thing Logan loved as much as you, it was breakfast—specifically pancakes.

You whipped up a batch, taking extra care to shape them into letters. The smell of warm batter filled the air, and you couldn’t help but smile as you arranged the pancakes on a large plate, spelling out: You’re going to be a dad.

By the time Logan wandered into the kitchen, his hair sticking up in every direction and his usual gruff morning expression on full display, you were practically bouncing on your toes.

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as he headed for the coffee maker.

“Morning,” you chirped, barely containing your excitement.

He turned, narrowing his eyes at you playfully. “What’s got you so chipper this early?”

You gestured to the table, where the plate of pancakes sat waiting. “I made you breakfast.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly suspicious as he stepped closer. But the moment his eyes landed on the pancakes, his entire body stilled.

His gaze moved slowly over the words, his expression unreadable at first. Then, his eyes shot up to meet yours, wide and filled with a mixture of disbelief and hope. “Darlin’… are you serious?”

You nodded, tears brimming in your eyes as you whispered, “Logan, we’re going to have a baby.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, he let out a shaky breath, a hand running through his hair as he took a step toward you. “You mean it? You’re… we’re…”

You smiled, nodding again as tears slipped down your cheeks. “Yes. It’s real.”

Logan’s arms were around you in an instant, pulling you tightly against his chest. You felt his body tremble slightly as he held you, his face buried in your neck. “I don’t even know what to say,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you whispered, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Just… be here with me. That’s all I need.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hazel eyes shining with a rare vulnerability. “I never thought I’d get to have this,” he said softly. “A family. You’ve given me more than I ever thought I deserved.”

You cupped his face, your thumbs brushing away the tears that had slipped from his eyes. “You deserve everything, Logan. And I can’t wait to do this with you.”

A soft, genuine smile curved his lips as he leaned down, capturing yours in a kiss. His hand cradled your cheek, his touch warm. When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead lightly against yours. 

Logan’s gaze flickered downward, his expression softening even more as his roughened hand moved to rest on your stomach. His palm was warm against you, and for a moment, he seemed almost in awe, his thumb brushing gently over the fabric of your shirt.

A chuckle rumbled through him, deep and affectionate. “Things are about to get a whole lot more interesting,” he murmured, his voice carrying both wonder and a touch of that familiar, teasing tone.

Your lips curved into a smile as you rested your hand over his, fingers threading together as your eyes followed his gaze to where your hands now lay. “Yeah,” you whispered, the word carrying a quiet awe of your own. “They really are.”

The world outside the kitchen faded away as you both stood there, the enormity of what was to come settling in. Logan’s thumb idly traced circles over the back of your hand, his expression a mix of pride, love, and something almost boyish—like he couldn’t quite believe this was real.

“You know,” he said softly, his eyes lifting to meet yours, hazel and filled with an emotion so raw it made your breath catch, “I’m not sure how we’re gonna do this, but… I can’t wait to figure it out with you.”

Your chest tightened, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you held his gaze, your hand squeezing his. “We’ll figure it out,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly but full of certainty. “Together. Like we always do.”

Unable to resist, you leaned into him, resting your head against his chest, your arms slipping around his waist. He held you close, his hand still protectively resting on your stomach as the other wrapped firmly around your back.

“You’re gonna be a great dad,” you murmured into his chest.

Logan let out a low, soft laugh, his chin brushing the top of your head as he pressed a kiss there. “I’ll try, sweetheart,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with emotion. “But with you beside me… I think I might just figure it out.”

You tilted your head up to meet his eyes again, a tear slipping free but your smile unwavering. “You already have,” you said softly, your fingers gently brushing along his jaw.

𓂃

Everything was going great—or, well, as great as could be expected when you were juggling teaching, mutant chaos, and the excitement of being newly pregnant. You’d gone to the doctor for a check-up, double-checking everything was on track, and Logan had been, well… different.

Attentive wasn’t even the right word for it. Logan had turned into an overprotective force of nature. He refused to let you lift anything heavier than a book, shot you a look of warning anytime you so much as bent down, and always seemed to be hovering nearby like he thought the baby might need saving from a falling bookshelf or something.

Not that you minded. In fact, you found it… sweet. Especially when his rough hands would slide under your shirt at the end of the day, his palms brushing over your barely-there bump as if he could somehow connect with the life growing inside you. The way he looked at you—at both of you—made your heart feel like it might burst.

But of course, Logan's changed behavior didn’t go unnoticed.

You and Logan stood outside on the mansion’s back patio, enjoying a rare moment of peace. The fresh air wrapped around you like a soft blanket, and you leaned back into his chest as his hands gently rested on your stomach, his thumbs absentmindedly brushing little circles there.

“I like that it’s just between us,” Logan murmured into your ear, his lips grazing the shell of it as his arms tightened around you.

You hummed in agreement, resting your hands over his. “Me too, but… we can’t hide it forever, you know.”

Logan chuckled low and warm, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. “Pretty sure Chuck already knows,” he muttered, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smirk. “And Jean. She’s probably just sittin’ on it, waitin’ for you to spill.”

You tilted your head back to glance at him, a knowing grin on your face. “Oh, she’s definitely sitting on it. Jean loves a good secret almost as much as she loves saying, ‘I told you so.’”

He grunted in agreement, lowering his head to press a soft kiss to the side of your neck. “If you wanna tell everyone, darlin’, just say the word. I’ll follow your lead.”

You sighed, closing your eyes as his lips trailed down your neck in a way that made you forget about anything other than the warmth of his embrace. “Should we do something special? Oh! What if—”

“Is there any place you two won’t get freaky in?”

The voice startled you both, and Logan quickly yanked your shirt back down as you peeked over his shoulder to see Scott and Ororo walking toward you. Ororo had a toolbox in hand, presumably for the greenhouse, and Scott, as usual, was looking far too amused for his own good.

You burst into laughter, unable to help yourself. “We were just—”

“Just about two seconds from Logan ripping your clothes off,” Scott interrupted with a smirk.

Logan shot him a glare, his arms still loosely wrapped around you. “I was not,” he growled, though the faintest hint of pink dusted his cheeks.

You grinned, turning in Logan’s hold to face them. “We were enjoying the fresh air, Summers. You should try it sometime. Might do wonders for your sunny personality.”

Scott rolled his eyes, but his expression grew suspicious as he glanced between you and Logan. “Something’s… different.”

“Yeah,” Ororo chimed in, narrowing her eyes at Logan. “He’s not acting like himself. He didn’t even make a sarcastic remark about Scott interrupting his make-out session.”

Logan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as if to will away their nonsense. “I’m right here, you know.”

Ororo gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “No witty remark again? What in the world is happening? Is Logan… soft now?”

Scott snorted, crossing his arms. “What’s next? Is Logan volunteering to help with art class? Baking cookies for the kids?”

You bit back a laugh, looking up at Logan with mock seriousness. “You have been oddly chipper lately. You’re not sneakin’ cookies out of the kitchen again, are you?”

Logan shot you a look, though the faintest twitch of a smirk betrayed him. “Real funny, sweetheart.”

“Actually,” Ororo interjected, her eyes narrowing in playful suspicion, “maybe it’s not the cookies. Maybe you’re the reason Logan’s gone all soft and smiley.”

Scott’s eyebrows shot up, his lips curving into a sly grin. “Ohhhh, I think ‘Ro’s onto something. Spill it, you two. What are you hiding?”

Logan sighed, running a hand down his face as he grumbled, “Can’t a guy just be happy without you nosy lot diggin’ into it?”

Ororo and Scott exchanged knowing looks, but before they could press further, you took pity on Logan and looped your arms around his waist. “Honestly, I think Logan’s just been spending too much time with you two,” you teased. “It’s rubbing off on him. Maybe we should keep our distance, huh?”

Scott chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, right. Whatever’s going on, I’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Logan muttered, shooting Scott a glare as he led you back toward the mansion.

Once you were out of earshot, you rose up on your toes, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Well, that went… better than expected. Look at you, handling things so maturely.”

Logan glanced down at you, his signature smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, sweetheart,” he drawled, his tone low and teasing. “I’ve still got plenty of gruff left in me.”

“Oh, I know,” you quipped, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as you leaned into him. “But maybe you should save a little of that charm to keep them from growing even more suspicious. You’re practically glowing, Logan.”

He huffed a soft laugh, the sound rumbling in his chest as his fingers brushed absentmindedly over your stomach. “So, let me get this straight—you’re tellin’ me to be grumpy? Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

You grinned, nudging him with your elbow. “Hey, mister, I love you and all your grumpiness. You can’t just go soft on me because we’re having a baby.”

His lips twitched, but he wasn’t listening anymore. His gaze had shifted, fixating on your stomach with a quiet intensity, like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you—and the life you were carrying. His fingers stilled, brushing softly over the fabric of your shirt as if he could feel the baby beneath it.

“Logan,” you said, trying to stifle a smile as you reached up to cup his jaw. You tilted his face back up toward yours, catching his hazel eyes. “Eyes up here, tough guy.”

He blinked, snapping out of his daze, though his lips curved into a sheepish smirk. “Can’t help it,” he muttered, his voice softer now. “Kinda hard to believe, ya know? That it’s… really happening.”

Your heart squeezed, and you ran your thumb gently along the scruff of his jaw. “It’s happening,” you murmured, your voice tender. “And you’re already doing so much. You’re gonna be the best dad, Logan. I know it.”

His hand slipped up from your stomach to rest against your hip, grounding himself in your touch. “Dunno about the best,” he said, his voice low and raw, “but I’m sure as hell gonna try. For you. For them.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Instead, you leaned up, brushing your lips softly against his. “You’ve got nothing to prove, you know,” you whispered against his mouth. “You’re already everything we need.”

Logan didn’t say anything for a moment, just let his forehead rest against yours as he closed his eyes. His hand found its way back to your stomach, resting there protectively. “You make this gruff old guy believe in things he never thought he’d have,” he finally murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

“Good,” you replied with a small smile, threading your fingers through his. “Because we’re not going anywhere, Logan. You’ve got us—gruffness and all.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple before wrapping his arm around you and guiding you back toward the mansion. “Guess I better start practicing my grumpy dad voice, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you teased, leaning into him as the warmth of his presence surrounded you. “You’ve got a reputation to maintain, after all.”

𓂃

A few days later, you stood in front of your class, pacing slowly as you explained the finer points of literary symbolism. Your voice was steady, your gestures fluid, but the dull ache in your lower back that had been nagging you all morning suddenly sharpened, sending a jolt of pain through your abdomen.

You froze mid-sentence, your breath hitching, one hand instinctively moving to your stomach.

“Mrs. Howlett?” a girl in the front row asked hesitantly, her wide eyes filled with concern. “Are you okay?”

You forced a smile, straightening up despite the discomfort clawing its way through you. “I’m fine,” you replied, your voice gentle but strained. “Just… give me a moment.”

The room felt too warm, the air heavy, and the students’ curious gazes only amplified your unease. You gripped the edge of your desk to steady yourself, taking a slow breath.

“Claire,” you said, turning to the girl who had spoken up, your tone soft but firm. “Can you keep an eye on the class for a few minutes? I’ll be right back.”

She nodded quickly, her concern etched into her features, and you grabbed your bag, clutching it tightly as you made your way to the door.

The hallway felt endless as you walked, the sharp pain twisting in your abdomen with every step. You tried to focus on your breathing, on the soft click of your shoes against the tiled floor, but panic was starting to creep into your mind.

By the time you reached the bathroom, your hands were trembling. You pushed the door open, the fluorescent lights casting a harsh glow as you stumbled toward the sink. The pain was intensifying, and a sense of dread settled heavily in your chest.

The sound of the bathroom door shutting behind you echoed in the silence, but you barely heard it over the pounding in your ears. Something was wrong—very wrong. Your hands trembled as you stumbled into a stall, the sharp pain in your abdomen making it hard to catch your breath.

You fumbled with the clasp of your bag, searching desperately for aspirin, though deep down, you knew no pill was going to fix this. Then you felt it—a warm, wet sensation and your heart plummeted.

“No, no, no…” you whispered, your voice cracking as you yanked open the bathroom stall door and hurried to the sink.

With shaky hands, you splashed cold water on your face, trying to calm your racing thoughts. But when you glanced down and saw the crimson staining your pants, the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

Panic clawed at your chest, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. “Please, no… please…” Tears blurred your vision as you stumbled back, your legs giving out beneath you. You crumpled to the bathroom floor, clutching your stomach as sobs wracked your body.

This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be.

In the hallway, Logan was walking back to his classroom after helping a student with a project. He’d been in a surprisingly light mood—until he heard it. The sound of your sobbing carried faintly down the corridor, and his entire body tensed.

He broke into a sprint, following the sound to the bathroom door.

“Darlin’, you in there?” His voice was urgent. The sound of his voice only made you cry harder. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond, couldn’t find the strength to tell him what was happening.

Logan didn’t wait for an answer. He pushed open the bathroom door, and the sight before him made his heart stop.

You were curled up on the floor, your arms wrapped tightly around your stomach as you sobbed uncontrollably. The crimson streaks on the tiles told him everything he needed to know.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed, his voice breaking as he rushed to your side. He dropped to his knees beside you, his hands hovering over you like he wasn’t sure where to touch without hurting you further.

You looked up at him, your tear-streaked face filled with anguish. “Logan… I think—I think we lost—”

Your words dissolved into a fresh wave of sobs, and Logan’s chest ached with the weight of your pain. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tightly against his chest, holding you as if he could shield you from the cruel reality of what was happening.

“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m here, darlin’. I’ve got you.”

You clung to him, your fists gripping his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you from completely falling apart. Logan’s hand found its way to your hair, stroking it gently as he rocked you back and forth.

“It’s not your fault,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “Do you hear me? It’s not your fault. Don’t you dare blame yourself for this.”

“I… I wanted this so badly,” you choked out between sobs, your face buried in his chest. “I wanted this for us, Logan. And now it’s… it’s gone.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, his eyes burning with unshed tears. He hated how powerless he felt—how he couldn’t fix this for you, couldn’t take away your pain.

He gently scooped you up into his arms, cradling you like you were the most precious thing in the world. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “Let’s get you outta here.”

You buried your face against his neck, your tears soaking into his shirt as he carried you down the hallway. Logan’s usual gruffness was gone, replaced by a quiet, tender resolve to be whatever you needed him to be at this moment.

When he reached your shared room, he gently laid you down on the bed, pulling the blanket over you. He sat down beside you, his hand never leaving yours, his thumb tracing soothing circles over your knuckles.

Your words were barely a whisper, fragile and heavy. “I’d gotten used to the idea of us… us being parents.” The tremble in your voice made Logan’s chest tighten, and he couldn’t stop the pained expression that flickered across his face.

He leaned closer, resting his forehead against yours, his hands cradling your face. “I know, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and raw. “We… we just have to find a way to keep going.”

You gave a small, broken nod, tears slipping down your cheeks as your fingers reached out, trembling slightly, to cup his cheek. “I just… I wish I could fix this, Logan. I wish I could do something to make it better.”

Logan’s jaw clenched as he swallowed hard, his thumb brushing over your cheek, wiping away a tear. “There’s nothin’ to fix, darlin’,” he said quietly, though his own voice cracked at the end. “This ain’t on you. It never was.”

But you shook your head, your voice breaking into a sob. “It feels like it is. What if—what if my body just… can’t? What if this is because of me?”

The words spilled out, laden with guilt you couldn’t seem to shake. Logan’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. He hated seeing you like this—so vulnerable, so broken, carrying the weight of something that wasn’t yours to carry.

“Stop,” he said firmly, though his tone was still soft, his hand gently tilting your chin up so you’d look at him. His hazel eyes, glassy with his unshed tears, locked onto yours. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this.”

You shook your head again, unable to stop the wave of tears that came. “But what if it’s me, Logan? What if I can’t—”

“Enough,” he cut in, his voice barely above a whisper, but the rawness of it stopped you in your tracks. “It’s not your fault. You hear me? This… this is just somethin’ that happened. And it hurts like hell, but it doesn’t mean you failed.”

His words cracked something inside of you, and you turned away, burying your face into the pillow as another sob wracked your body. Logan didn’t pull away. He stayed close, his hand rubbing slow, steady circles on your back, his presence grounding you even as your world felt like it was crumbling.

After a moment, Logan’s voice broke the heavy silence, softer now, as if he was speaking to himself as much as to you. “Darlin’, we’re not givin’ up. We’ve faced worse. We’ll get through this, too. But you gotta stop thinkin’ this is somethin’ you did.”

Your muffled voice came from the pillow, shaky and raw. “But I wanted it so badly, Logan. I already—I already pictured everything. The nursery, the little shoes… us holding—now it’s been ripped away from us.”

Logan’s chest ached at your words, and he let out a shaky breath, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “I know,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I wanted it too. I already saw you as a mom, sweetheart. I still do. I always will.”

You turned your head slightly, your tear-streaked face meeting his gaze. His honesty—his vulnerability—broke through the wall of guilt you’d been building. “You still…?”

“Always,” he said firmly, his thumb brushing away another tear. “I’m not gonna let this define us. We’re more than this pain. And I know it feels impossible right now, but we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

A shaky sob escaped you as you reached for him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Logan pulled you close, holding you tightly against him, his hand tangling in your hair as he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“You’re not alone in this,” he murmured, his voice a quiet promise. “We’re in this together, no matter what. You and me.”

You allowed yourself to lean fully into him, your tears soaking into his shirt as he held you. His arms were strong and steady, and the way he cradled you made you feel, just for a moment, like maybe things could be okay again.

“I love you,” you whispered into his chest, the words muffled but heavy with meaning.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice rough with emotion as he rested his chin on top of your head. “More than anything. Don’t forget that.”

𓂃

Life was supposed to keep moving, but for you and Logan, it felt like time had stopped. The days blurred into weeks, and while the mansion hummed with the usual chaos of students and X-Men missions, you both drifted through it like ghosts.

The weight of the miscarriage hung heavy between you, unspoken but ever-present. You couldn’t bear to talk about it, not yet. Not to anyone except Logan, and even then, words often failed. Nights were the only solace, the quiet hours where he held you tightly in his arms as you sobbed until exhaustion finally overtook you. In those moments, he didn’t say much—what was there to say even as his own grief simmered just beneath the surface.

Logan hated feeling helpless, but this was something he couldn’t fight, couldn’t fix. He saw the pain in your eyes every time you avoided his gaze, the way you masked your tears with a smile that never quite reached your face. And it scared him. His mind spiraled into dark places late at night when he couldn’t sleep. What if this broke you? What if it broke your marriage? What if you left him because he couldn’t give you what you wanted?

The others started to notice. It wasn’t just that you both were quieter than usual—it was the way Logan didn’t bite back as much during arguments or how your laughter, which used to light up any room, had grown rare.

“You two seem pretty... off lately,” Scott had commented to Logan one morning in the kitchen.

Logan barely glanced at him, too tired to muster a sarcastic reply. “We’re fine,” he muttered, his tone gruff but unconvincing.

Scott frowned, crossing his arms. “Fine? You’ve barely said three words to anyone all week, and she’s not much better. Is something going on?”

Logan clenched his jaw, his hand tightening around the coffee mug he was holding. “Drop it, Summers,” he growled before walking out, heading upstairs to check on you.

But Scott didn’t drop it.

It was a Friday night, and the team had gathered in the living room for what was supposed to be a relaxing evening. Someone had put on a movie, but the dialogue barely registered as you sat curled up on the couch next to Logan. His arm was draped around your shoulders, protective as always, but you could feel the tension in his body. You weren’t much better, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket you had pulled over your lap.

“Alright,” Scott said, breaking the lull in conversation. “I can’t be the only one who’s noticed something’s off with these two.”

You froze, your fingers tightening on the blanket as all eyes turned toward you and Logan.

“Scott,” Jean warned, her tone cautious.

“What?” Scott pressed, looking around the room for support. “They’ve been acting strange for weeks now. Don’t tell me none of you have noticed.”

You forced a smile, trying to deflect. “We’re fine, Scott. Just busy, that’s all.”

Scott wasn’t convinced. “Busy? Come on. You guys are like the most annoying, lovey-dovey couple in this place. Now you’re quiet and avoiding everyone? Something’s up.”

“Scott, maybe—” Ororo started, but Scott cut her off.

“No, I’m serious. If something’s wrong, we can help, but we can’t do that if you don’t tell us what’s going on.”

Logan’s grip on your shoulder tightened, and you could feel the tension radiating off him. He leaned forward, his jaw clenched, his voice dangerously low. “I said drop it, Summers.”

“Why? What’s the big deal? We’re just trying to—”

Before he could finish, Logan shot to his feet, his voice breaking as he shouted, “Because we lost our baby, alright?”

The room fell into a stunned silence. Logan’s chest heaved, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he stood there, raw and vulnerable in a way none of them had ever seen.

You stared up at him, your heart breaking all over again as you saw the tears streaming down his face, the anguish he’d been holding back finally spilling over. Logan, the man who never cried, was now sobbing in front of everyone, his shoulders shaking as he tried—and failed—to pull himself together.

“Logan…” you whispered, rising to your feet and reaching for him.

He shook his head, his voice cracking. “I—I couldn’t protect the baby. I couldn’t do anything. It’s my fault, sweetheart. I let you down.”

“Stop,” you said firmly, wrapping your arms around him despite the way he tried to pull back. “Logan, stop. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

He collapsed into your embrace, his head resting against your shoulder as he clung to you, his sobs muffled against your skin. “I’m so sorry,” he choked out, his voice broken.

Tears streamed down your face as you held him, your fingers tangling in his hair as you whispered, “You didn’t let me down. You could never let me down.”

The others sat in stunned silence, their initial shock giving way to quiet understanding. Jean wiped at her tears, her hand resting on Scott’s arm to keep him from saying anything more.

“It’s going to be okay,” you murmured into Logan’s ear, your voice trembling under the weight of your uncertainty. The words felt hollow, like trying to patch a dam with a handful of sand, but you needed him to hear them, to believe them.

Logan pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his hazel eyes brimming with unspoken pain. His rough edges, the walls he so carefully built, seemed to crumble in that moment. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice hoarse and raw, each word a struggle.

“You don’t have to know,” you whispered, your fingertips brushing a tear from his cheek, the small gesture grounding both of you.

For a moment, he just stared at you, like he was searching for something—hope, strength, maybe even forgiveness. Then, with a shaky exhale, he let himself lean into you, his weight resting against your shoulder as though surrendering to the vulnerability he so often avoided.

You guided him back to the couch, easing him down with gentle hands. Logan found your hand gripping it firmly, almost desperate, as if letting go would make the pain worse. You stayed by his side while the rest of the team sat in stunned silence. Their usual chatter and banter were gone, replaced by an unspoken understanding that this was something fragile that required care.

Jean broke the stillness, her voice soft but resolute. “Why don’t we give them some space?”

One by one, the others stood, their footsteps hesitant as they left the room. Scott lingered near the doorway, his expression conflicted. He seemed rooted to the spot, torn between leaving and staying.

“I’m sorry,” Scott finally said, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt. He took a step closer, his gaze darting between you and Logan. “I didn’t mean to push earlier. I didn’t know…”

Logan lifted his head slightly, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable. The tension in the room was palpable, but there was no anger in his gaze—just a quiet exhaustion.

Scott ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I was out of line,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t realize… I just thought something was off, and I pushed when I shouldn’t have.”

Jean stepped into the room, placing a steadying hand on Scott’s arm. She looked at both of you, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Scott didn’t mean to make things worse,” she said gently. “We’ve… we’ve been where you are.”

You blinked, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

Jean hesitated, her fingers tightening on Scott’s arm as if drawing strength from him. “Before we had Nathan, we… we lost a baby.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the weight of her confession filled the room.

You felt your chest tighten before glancing at Logan, who looked just as surprised as you. Scott’s usual stoic demeanor was gone, replaced by a raw vulnerability that you had never seen before.

Scott cleared his throat, his gaze fixed on the floor. “We didn’t tell anyone. Not even the Professor. It was early… and we thought we could handle it on our own.” He let out a shaky breath, his hands clenching at his sides. “But it was hard. Harder than we ever expected.”

Jean nodded, her eyes glistening as she looked at you. “We blamed ourselves. Blamed each other. But eventually, we realized… it wasn’t anyone’s fault. It just… it happens.”

You blinked, the tears welling in your eyes threatening to spill over again. “I didn’t know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Scott let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “No one did. I thought if I buried it deep enough, it wouldn’t hurt as much. But seeing you two...” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, trying to steady himself. “I’m sorry for pushing earlier. I didn’t mean to make things worse.”

Jean stepped closer, her hand reaching out to yours. “It’s going to take time,” she said softly. “But you don’t have to go through it alone. If you ever need to talk… we’re here.”

Her words, simple but heartfelt, broke through the wall of grief that had been suffocating you. You nodded, a small, grateful smile breaking through your tears. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Scott extended a hand to Logan, who hesitated for a moment before shaking it. It wasn’t much, but it felt like the beginning of an unspoken understanding, a bridge between two men who had rarely seen eye to eye.

As they left the room, you turned to Logan, your hand squeezing his. “That… helped. A little.”

Logan nodded, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “Guess even Scott has his moments.”

You managed a weak laugh, leaning into him as he pulled you close. For the first time in weeks, the weight on your chest felt slightly lighter even if you knew this was only the beginning of trying to find a new normal. 

𓂃

Months had passed since the miscarriage, and while life had begun to find its rhythm again, the pain lingered like an uninvited guest. The grief wasn’t as sharp as it had been in the beginning, but it still loomed over you and Logan, casting a shadow on your once-effortless connection. You both knew it wasn’t your fault, but knowing and feeling weren’t always the same.

Logan, always the protector, had become even more so in the aftermath. His hand rarely left yours, as if letting go for even a moment might cause something else to slip away. He hovered constantly—not in a stifling way, but in a way that spoke volumes about his fear and guilt. While you appreciated his care, you could see that he was holding something back, burying his pain in the only way he knew how.

It wasn’t until one late night, when you reached out for him in bed and found his side cold and empty, that you realized just how much he was struggling. Pulling on a robe, you wandered the quiet halls of the mansion, searching for him. It didn’t take long; you heard the familiar snikt of his claws in the training room.

Peeking inside, your heart broke at the sight of him. Logan stood shirtless in the dim light, sweat dripping from his forehead as he lunged at the sparring dummy. His movements were wild, full of rage and frustration. His claws tore through the dummy with brutal efficiency, slashing and stabbing until it was shredded to pieces. When the dummy finally collapsed in a heap, Logan dropped to his knees, his claws retracting with a metallic hiss. He leaned forward, bracing himself on his hands, his breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps.

You stayed in the doorway for a moment, debating whether to give him space or step in. But as you saw his shoulders slump, the weight of his grief almost palpable, you couldn’t hold back.

“Logan,” you called softly, stepping into the room.

His head whipped around, his eyes wild for a second before softening when he saw you. He wiped a hand across his face as if trying to compose himself. “What’re you doin’ up, sweetheart?” he asked gruffly, his voice low and strained.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you replied, walking closer until you stood in front of him. “I woke up, and you weren’t there.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening. “Just needed to… work some things out.”

You knelt in front of him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You can’t keep doing this, Logan. Pushing it all down, burying it in anger. It’s not going to help.”

His eyes flickered back to you, and for a moment, you saw the raw vulnerability he rarely let anyone see. “I don’t know what else to do,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “I can’t… I can’t stop thinkin’ about it. I don’t know how to make it right.”

You cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. “You don’t have to make it right,” you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion. “We can’t fix this. We just have to accept it and move on.”

His eyes filled with tears, and he shook his head, his hands coming up to cover yours. “I just wanted to protect you. To give you… everything,” he said, his voice cracking. “And I couldn’t even do that.”

“You did,” you insisted, your thumbs brushing his cheekbones. “Logan, you were there for me every step of the way. You held me when I thought I wasn’t worthy of it. You loved me through it. That’s everything. But you have to let yourself grieve too. You can’t keep punishing yourself like this.”

He looked up at you, his hazel eyes searching yours as if trying to find some kind of answer. Finally, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. You felt his chest heave as a sob escaped him, and it broke your heart all over again. You stroked his hair, whispering soothing words as he finally let himself feel the weight of his grief.

After a while, when his breathing steadied, you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. “Logan,” you began gently, “we need to get out of here. Just for a little while. Go somewhere quiet, just the two of us. We need time to heal.”

He hesitated, his brows furrowing. “You think runnin’ away’s gonna fix it?”

“It’s not running away,” you said firmly. “It’s giving ourselves a chance to breathe. To remember who we are together. We’ve been so caught up in the pain… we need to find our way back to each other.”

He considered your words for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Alright,” he said quietly. “Where do you wanna go?”

You smiled faintly, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face. “Somewhere peaceful. Maybe the cabin up north? Just us. No distractions, no one else.”

Logan exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly for the first time in what felt like weeks. “Yeah,” he said, his voice soft but resolute. “I think that’s exactly what we need.”

You leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to his lips feeling a flicker of hope. It wouldn’t be easy, but you knew that as long as you had each other, you could find a way forward.

𓂃

The secluded cabin was tucked away in a quiet corner of nowhere, surrounded by towering trees that swayed softly in the breeze. The air smelled of pine and earth, and the only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the occasional chirp of birds. It was peaceful, untouched, and exactly what you and Logan needed to find each other again.

The calm of the place had worked its magic over the past week. The tension that had weighed heavy on your shoulders began to ease, and you could see the same was true for Logan. His usual gruffness was quieter here, softened by the stillness of the forest and the warmth of the cabin.

As you laced up your hiking boots near the fireplace, you glanced out the window at the sun filtering through the trees. “I’m gonna walk the trail,” you announced casually, straightening up and brushing your hands against your jeans.

Logan’s voice rumbled behind you as he walked into the small living room. “Do you want to go alone?” He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed as a small, warm smile played on his lips.

You turned to face him, quirking an eyebrow as you stepped closer. “Depends… are you gonna be good company, tough guy?”

That earned you the smallest huff of laughter, his smirk tugging wider. “There she is,” he murmured, his tone warm and teasing as he reached out to pull you into his arms. His lips brushed against the bridge of your nose, lingering for just a moment before he tilted his forehead against yours. “I missed those little remarks,” he admitted quietly.

You chuckled, your hands sliding up to rest on his chest. “And here I thought they annoyed you,” you teased, glancing up at him with a playful glint in your eyes.

Logan rolled his eyes, though the grin that spread across his face betrayed him. “Darlin’, I’d be lost without ‘em,” he said, his voice softer now. His hazel eyes searched yours for a moment, and his hand came up to gently cup your cheek. “I love you,” he added, the words quiet but weighty, as if they held the sum of everything he couldn’t quite say.

You felt a warmth spread through your chest, and you leaned into his touch, brushing your thumb over the back of his hand. “I love you too,” you whispered, the words spilling out like a promise. Then you grinned, breaking the moment with a playful nudge to his side. “Now hurry up, or I’m leaving you behind.”

Logan smirked, dropping his hand to give your hip a playful squeeze. “Don’t get cocky. Let me grab my boots.” He turned toward the door, muttering something about you always keeping him on his toes, but there was no bite to his words—just affection.

A few minutes later, the two of you were walking side by side down the dirt trail, surrounded by the serene beauty of the forest. The sunlight trickled through the canopy above, casting dappled patterns on the ground. You could hear the crunch of leaves beneath your boots and the faint trickle of a nearby stream.

For a while, neither of you spoke, content to simply exist in the quiet of nature and each other’s presence. Logan reached out to take your hand, his fingers wrapping securely around yours. You glanced up at him, catching the way the golden light softened his rugged features. He looked more at ease than he had in months, and it made your heart ache.

“You know,” you began, a teasing lilt in your voice, “I didn’t peg you for the hand-holding type.”

Logan glanced down at you, one brow arching. “Don’t start,” he warned, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

“What? I think it’s cute.” You swung his hand slightly, earning a quiet groan.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood,” he muttered, but the smirk tugging at his lips gave him away.

You laughed, leaning into his side as you walked. “Admit it—you like it.”

He let out a low chuckle, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Maybe I do,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “Can’t say I mind when it’s with you.”

Your chest swelled at the admission, and you stopped walking for a moment, turning to face him. “Thank you,” you said, your voice earnest.

Logan frowned slightly, confused. “For what?”

“For bringing me here,” you explained, gesturing to the forest around you. “For… letting me have this time with you. I needed it.”

His expression softened, and he reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I needed it too,” he admitted, his voice low. “I didn’t know how much until now.”

You smiled, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “You know, this whole reconnecting thing looks good on you, Logan.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, it’s already there,” you teased, slipping your arms around his waist. “Now, let’s see if you can keep up, old man.”

Logan let out a bark of laughter, his hand sliding to rest on your lower back. “You’re gonna regret that, sweetheart,” he warned, his voice full of playful challenge.

“Promises, promises,” you shot back with a grin, taking off down the trail as Logan chased after you, the sound of your laughter carrying through the trees.

Eventually, Logan caught up to you, his strong arms wrapping securely around your waist as he pulled you to a stop. Your laughter echoed through the trees, a sound that seemed to brighten the peaceful forest around you. “I was so sure I was gonna win,” you teased, still catching your breath as you squirmed halfheartedly in his grip.

Logan let out a low chuckle, the rumble of it vibrating through you. “Guess I’m not as old as you think I am,” he shot back, his smirk smug as he held you against his chest.

“Oh, you’re definitely old,” you teased, leaning back into him. “I mean, just look at your white—”

“Don’t finish that sentence, gorgeous,” Logan warned, cutting you off with a playful growl, though the amusement in his voice betrayed him.

You turned in his arms, grinning as your fingers reached up to play with the strands of his hair. “You know I love you,” you said softly, letting the teasing drop for a moment. “Pretty sure if I met you… say ten years from now, I’d still fall for you. Still, marry you.”

Logan’s expression softened, his hazel eyes meeting yours with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. “I don’t doubt that,” he murmured. “But for the record, darlin’, I’m glad it didn’t take ten years.”

You smiled, your fingers tracing small circles on the back of his neck. “Me too,” you whispered. The peaceful silence of the forest wrapped around you both, and for a moment, everything felt still, like the world had paused just for the two of you.

Logan’s hands settled on your hips. “You’ve been thinkin’ about the future a lot lately, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice quiet but full of understanding.

You hesitated for a beat, then nodded. “Yeah,” you admitted. “I mean, with everything that’s happened… I guess I just wonder what’s next for us. Like, are we supposed to keep trying? Or are we supposed to let it go?”

Logan’s jaw tightened slightly, his gaze dropping to where his hand rested on your waist. After a moment, he sighed and looked back up at you, his eyes steady and sure. “I think… maybe we don’t need to push so hard. If it happens, it happens,” he said, his voice low but resolute. “But what we’ve got right now? It’s enough for me. You’re enough for me.”

His words hit you like a warm wave, washing away the doubt and guilt that had lingered for weeks. “Logan…” you began, but your voice caught, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. You swallowed hard and managed a smile. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do,” he said, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “I don’t need anything else, sweetheart. Just you. The rest? That’s just… bonus.”

You let out a soft, shaky laugh, leaning your forehead against his. “You always know just what to say, don’t you?”

He smirked, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “That’s my job, isn’t it?”

You grinned, shaking your head. “Well, for what it’s worth, I feel the same way. I don’t want us to lose ourselves trying to force something that’ll happen when it’s meant to.”

Logan’s arms tightened around you. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I don’t want to miss a single second of us, just the way we are.”

[buckysouvenir]

in the hex, episode 1: a perfect life

pairing: bucky barnes x y/n summary: Y/N, a witch with no memory of her true nature, lives a seemingly perfect life with her husband, Bucky Barnes, in a quiet, idyllic 1950s town. Everything seems picture-perfect—Y/N and Bucky are a deeply loving couple, content in their everyday routine. They share playful moments, enjoy simple pleasures, and have a deep connection that feels unshakable. Their life is peaceful, with no hint of anything out of the ordinary. However, things aren’t what they seem. authors note: i'm so happy to be finally posting this!

in the hex masterlist | next episode

reblogs, likes and comments are always encouraged and highly appreciated! thank you ♡

The sun rises over the quiet little town, golden light filtering through the lace-trimmed curtains of a cozy home. The air smells of fresh coffee and buttery pancakes, and a soft tune drifts from the vintage radio sitting on the kitchen counter.

Y/N hums along to the melody as she flips a pancake, dressed in a pastel polka-dot dress, her hair curled into soft waves. She doesn’t think about why she woke up feeling content. She doesn’t question why this life feels so… right.

A yawn echoes from the hallway, followed by the slow shuffle of bare feet on hardwood.

“Doll, do you always wake up this early?”

Bucky leans against the doorway, rubbing a hand over his face. His hair is slightly messy, like he just rolled out of bed. He’s wearing a white undershirt and navy pajama pants, the fabric clinging to his broad frame. But something is different.

His left arm.

It looks completely normal—flesh and bone, just like his right one.

Y/N doesn’t think twice about it.

“Somebody has to make sure you don’t leave the house without eating,” she teases, flashing him a smile as she plates the last pancake.

Bucky smirks as he crosses the kitchen in a few lazy strides, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. “Mm, you smell nice,” he murmurs against her hair, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “Almost makes me wanna stay home all day.”

She laughs, elbowing him lightly. “Sit down, you flirt. Breakfast is ready.”

Bucky doesn’t let go right away. He just holds her there for a second, swaying them both slightly in the warmth of the kitchen. Then, with a content sigh, he finally lets her go and takes a seat at the small dining table.

Y/N sets a plate in front of him and pours him a cup of coffee just the way he likes it—two sugars, no cream. Bucky watches her with a small smile, like he’s memorizing every movement.

“What would I do without you?” he muses, cutting into his pancakes.

“You’d starve,” Y/N replies without missing a beat.

Bucky chuckles. “Can’t argue with that.” He takes a bite, humming in approval. “You make the best pancakes, doll. I’m tellin’ ya, if I wasn’t already married to you, I’d have to marry you for these alone.”

Y/N shakes her head with a laugh. “And here I thought you married me for my charm and good looks.”

“That too,” he says, winking. “But the pancakes definitely sealed the deal.”

They eat in comfortable silence for a moment, the radio filling the space with soft music.

Then, a knock at the door.

Y/N wipes her hands on a kitchen towel before heading to the front door. When she opens it, a familiar redhead beams at her.

“Good morning, neighbor!”

Wanda Maximoff stands on the porch, holding a covered dish. She’s wearing a floral dress, her hair pinned back in soft curls. Next to her, Vision stands in a neatly pressed sweater vest and slacks, offering a polite nod.

“Wanda! Vision! What a lovely surprise,” Y/N greets, stepping aside. “Come in!”

Wanda hands her the dish with a warm smile. “Just a little something I baked this morning. Apple pie, fresh from the oven.”

“Oh, Wanda, you’re too sweet. You didn’t have to—”

“Nonsense! What are friends for?” Wanda waves off the protest, stepping inside. “Besides, I had a feeling Bucky would appreciate a good homemade pie.”

At the table, Bucky perks up. “Pie?”

Vision chuckles as he takes a seat across from him. “I believe you have just been bribed.”

Wanda grins. “Guilty.”

Y/N shakes her head fondly as she sets the pie on the counter. “Well, in that case, coffee for everyone?”

As she moves to pour the drinks, she catches Wanda’s gaze. For a split second, something flickers behind her green eyes—something unreadable. But it’s gone just as quickly, replaced by the same warm, friendly expression.

Y/N blinks. She must’ve imagined it.

Right?

#taglist: @whisperingashgarden

[inej-ruination-ghafa]

sweet nothing - s.r

karma | mastermind | masterlist

Warnings: none

Summary: the one where you are living your dream life with Spencer Reid and your little girl

Wordcount: 1.7k

You rubbed at your eyes as you woke up, an arm reaching out for the other side of the bed but it was empty. You groaned as you lay on your back, eyes opening to see how empty the room was.

The walls were painted a cream colour, nothing like the cold white of your previous home. This was what you had always dreamed of, a home with wooden furniture, a cozy bedspread that you could have laid in for days and days.

You wish you could have stayed in that bed forever, his arms wrapped around your body but he wasn’t there. You put on your slippers that he had left at the foot of your bed, wrapping a dressing gown around your body as you walked into the hallway.

For a moment, your eyes lingered on the pictures on the walls of all of your friends and family.

This was the house you had moved to after quitting the BAU. Spencer had removed himself from fieldwork the moment that you had found out that you were pregnant and had become a teacher, training the next generation of profilers and agents.

You could remember that day so clearly, when he had come back from a case to see you standing over the bathroom sink, holding a pregnancy test in hand. You had turned around, mascara running down your cheeks as you held it out.

You hadn’t been married at that point but the second he found out, he proposed, promising that your family would be together forever.

Now, as you stumbled through your house, morning sunlight shining through the windows and illuminating your path, you knew that you would be together for the rest of your lives.

You could smell food being cooked so turned a corner, walking towards the kitchen. Looking to your left, you saw pictures from your time at the BAU, you and the girls sitting in the jet, Spencer and Derek with his baby boy.

sometimes you missed it, wishing that you could have those action packed days chasing down serial killers, but there was something about the mundane life that suited you as well. A place where you could write your books in peace and spend so much time with your little girl.

You stood in the doorway, leaning up against it as you looked at him. He was standing there at the kitchen, the smell of pancakes wafting through the air.

He had the little apron that you had bought for him at a market years ago. There was a carefree feeling in the air, like nothing was wrong in the world. He was humming to himself as he walked to the cupboard, pulling out three plates and setting them down on the side.

You were silent, not wanting him to see you as you just observed this serene moment, his hips swaying to the sound of the music playing from the radio in the corner.

You were about to say something, interrupt his peaceful moment, when you heard the little pitter patter of footsteps running towards him and that was when you saw your daughter running over.

She was wearing your favourite dress of hers, pink flowers embroidered into the white chiffon material. She giggled as her father lifted her up into his arms, squeezing her tightly.

spencer gave the girl a smile, she was so perfect, a little mix of the two of you. She had his mop of unruly hair, and those big puppy dog eyes. She got your smile, the toothy grin, and your nose. She had dimples though, nobody was quite sure where she got those from.

“Shh, you gotta be quiet, your mommy is asleep,” he said, tickling her in the side knowing it would make her laugh even louder.

“Stop dada,” she protested, tiny hands gripping at his lapel.

he turned on his heels, about to bring her back to the table, and he froze when he saw you standing in the doorway, the biggest smile on your face.

There was no way that you had been this lucky. So many awful things had happened to you and Spencer over the years from kidnappings to near death experiences. You had lost too many friends to count and had suffered so much.

But here, in this little kitchen and this house in a rural suburb in Virginia, there was nothing bad in the world. There were no serial killers, no sadists, no narcissists, just the three of you and the love that you shared. There was so much love, it stuck to everything. You could see it in your smiles, in the comfortable silence in the room, in the childish drawings stuck up on the fridge.

Your daughter called out your name and you rushed over, pressing a kiss against her forehead. She held her hands out for you and you took her into your arms, resting the three year old girl on your hip.

You remembered the first time you had brought her back to this house, a few days old and so, so tiny. You and Spencer had sat on the sofa, her little hand wrapped around your finger and she had kept that tight hold on you all these years later.

it was funny to think how the time had flown by, how she had taken her first steps here in the kitchen, chubby arms reached out for her father. How she had said her first words in the garden, calling for her father - something you will never forgive him for.

“Morning Spence,” you leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss against his lips, listening to the way your little girl giggled.

“I was making you breakfast,” you looked over his shoulder and saw the extent of the mess that he had created in trying to make you pancakes.

You hummed in response, “I appreciate the sentiment,”

”Sentiment?” His hand came to his chest and he feigned disgust, “I am a brilliant cook,”

you looked down at the little girl in your arms, “You think your daddy is a good cook?”

she nodded, nuzzling her head into your shoulder. You gave him a look, as if asking him how you could have ever gotten this lucky.

”I’ll sit her down, you finish the food,” you said before walking into the kitchen and settling her down into her chair.

You looked at the table. Spencer must have been up late last night because there were pieces of paper scattered on the table, a poetry book propped open. You smiled to yourself as you tidied it up, putting the book on top of a stack by the door; you had too many books to fit on the bookshelves and they were starting to pile up in various rooms.

marrying Spencer had been the best thing that could have ever happened to you. He filled your life with so much joy, no more industry disrupters or chaotic people to get you both down. With each other, you didn’t have to care if the end was coming because you had one another and the little girl that symbolised the love between you.

You brushed a hand over her hair before walking back into the kitchen, watching as your husband plated up the pancakes, pouring syrup over them.

You wrapped your arms around his body as you stood behind him. He froze at the action, his hands coming down to grab yours as he spun you round so you were looking at one another.

Even after so many years of being together, you still got a little bit flustered when he would look at you with those eyes that proved that he wanted you, that he loved you mind, body and soul.

He leaned down, hand cupping your cheek to pull you up to him as he kissed you so gently, like he did when he had first laid eyes on you. You closed your eyes as you leaned into the kiss, hand coming up to the nape of his neck to pull him even closer to you.

You pulled away and looked at him for a moment. He was different from the nerdy boy that you had met all those years ago, hair swooped over his face as he fiddled with a pen. Now he was a hardened man, prison had changed him a bit but he was still your lover, still the same soft and supple man.

Marriage had changed him too, making him laugh more. There were more lines on his face now, a few more grey hairs in that unruly hair of his. Your daughter had changed him, added smile lines to his cheeks and made the sparkle in his eyes come back after years of being not present.

“I love you Spencer Reid,” you muttered before kissing him softly again.

He hummed in response, “I love you more Mrs Reid,”

you pulled away from his grip and grabbed onto the plates by his side, grabbing yours and your daughters before walking back to the table.

He watched as you walked away for a moment. This was so like Spencer, to take a moment to appreciate the little things in life, like the way his wife’s hips swung as she walked, or the giggle that escaped his daughters mouth as she saw the pancakes.

For years, he was sure he was never going to have any of this and here he was. He grabbed his pancakes and set them down on his seat, looking at you with pure love in his eyes.

He was ready to spend the rest of his life with you, siting at tables and laughing over poetry and pancakes, whispering sweet nothings as the world faded away around the two of you.

[idkyetxoxo]

Ten | Enchanted | Aemond Targaryen

Word count - 3635

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!), strong language

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I entered the grand banquet hall with the kind of confidence that made every head turn, my gown flowing around me like a stream of liquid silk. 

Each step I took was deliberate, each rustle of fabric intentional, and as the chandeliers cast their glittering light across the room, it felt as if the jewels that adorned my dress were announcing my arrival. 

I had no need to speak—eyes followed me, whispers hummed in my wake. I was the centre of attention, and I revelled in it.

I spotted my brother, Nymor, across the room, deep in conversation with his usual entourage, a grin tugging at his lips as he entertained them. 

With a mischievous smile, I slipped through the crowd unnoticed, weaving between nobles and lords who paused their chatter to stare as I passed. 

As I reached Nymor, I crept up behind him and swiftly covered his eyes with my hands.

"Guess who," I purred, letting the words drip with playful mischief.

He chuckled, not even missing a beat. "Ah, my ever-annoying little sister, always making a dramatic entrance."

I gasped, though the exaggerated sound was more teasing than insulted. I swatted his shoulder. "Little? How dare you! I am the star of this show, Nymor."

He threw his head back with a hearty laugh, turning to pull me into a warm embrace, his arms wrapping around me like a protective shield. 

He pressed a quick kiss to my temple, and when he drew back, his grin softened into something more affectionate.

"Always the star," he agreed, his eyes glinting with that familiar brotherly affection. "How long has it been since we've hosted something like this? It's almost as grand as the old days."

I raised an eyebrow, letting my gaze sweep across the hall, which had been transformed into a glittering display of opulence. 

Gold-trimmed tapestries draped the walls, candelabras flickered with delicate flames, and the banquet table groaned under the weight of lavish foods that would be the envy of any kingdom.

"Far too long," I replied, feigning indifference even as the sight thrilled me. "I do enjoy a spectacle now and then."

Nymor's smirk was laced with affection as he shook his head. "Oh, we know."

For a moment, we stood together, trading gossip about the guests, each one more extravagant than the last. 

Our laughter mingled with the music, a shared sibling joy that momentarily made me forget about the weight of everything else. But that peace didn't last long.

Our father's deep voice cut through the air, breaking through the lively hum of the gathering. 

"Let me steal your sister for a moment," he said, already slipping an arm around my waist, guiding me away from Nymor and the bustling crowd before I could protest.

Nymor bowed dramatically, grinning as he waved me off. "Of course, she's all yours."

As my father led me to a quieter corner of the hall, away from the prying eyes and curious stares of the guests, I could feel the tension rising in my chest. 

I knew what this was about—the conversation that had been looming for weeks, ever-present, yet never fully addressed. Until now.

He turned to face me, his expression serious, his gaze searching my own as if trying to anticipate my answer before I even spoke. 

"What is your decision?" His voice was quiet, but the weight of it was unmistakable. 

No preamble. No flowery words to soften the blow. Just the question.

I met his eyes, a slow smile spreading across my lips, the kind that said I knew exactly what I was doing. 

"I will do it," I said, my voice steady, the confidence in it unmistakable. "I will marry him."

For the briefest moment, my father's composure faltered—his eyebrows rose in surprise, though he quickly masked it. 

"You are certain?" His voice, normally so controlled, wavered, as if he couldn't quite believe I had agreed.

"Father," I arched an eyebrow, letting the silence stretch between us for a heartbeat longer, "do you really think I'd agree to something I didn't want?" 

My voice was calm, but there was a challenge hidden in my words. "I know what I'm doing. And I know exactly what I'm getting."

Relief washed over his face, his shoulders visibly relaxing. After a brief pause, he nodded, pride flickering in his eyes. 

Without another word, he excused himself, leaving me standing alone, my decision made, my fate sealed.

I turned back toward the hall, and that's when I saw him—Aemond. His gaze was already on me, intense and unyielding. 

He made his way through the crowd, cutting a path with that quiet, purposeful stride of his, and within moments, he was standing before me.

"You look..." he paused, his voice low and full of something darker, something deeper. "Exquisite." 

His eyes roamed over me, a subtle tension between us that made the air feel heavier. "Every bit the princess you are."

I tilted my chin up slightly, letting my eyes sweep over him with the same intensity. "Naturally," I replied, my tone sharp with amusement. "I do aim to impress."

He gave me a look—one that lingered longer than it should have, something deeper than mere admiration flickering in his eye. 

For a man as composed as Aemond, it was a rare slip, and it sent a thrill down my spine. 

Was he... uncertain? Could it be that I, the prize he had long pursued, now made him nervous? How curious. 

I smirked knowingly. He must have seen me speaking with my father earlier, must have felt the weight of the decision that had hung so heavily in the air between us.

He knew what was coming.

Before we could speak, my father's voice boomed across the hall, commanding immediate silence. 

The energy shifted in an instant—the announcement, the moment everyone had been waiting for, was finally here.

"It brings me great joy," my father began, his voice filled with an unmistakable pride that made my chest tighten, "to announce a union at this farewell feast."

Whispers erupted like wildfire, spreading through the hall, crackling with anticipation as all eyes turned toward us. The entire room seemed to hold its breath. 

My heart hammered in my chest, yet outwardly I remained poised—shoulders back, chin lifted, the epitome of regal composure as I awaited his next words.

"My daughter," he continued, his voice heavy with emotion that stirred the crowd, "the heart of Dorne and our cherished princess, has agreed to a union with Prince Aemond."

The room exploded into cheers. The sound surged through the grand hall, loud and jubilant, swelling and echoing like a wave that washed over everything. 

King Viserys gave a slow nod of approval, his eyes shining with quiet pride, while laughter and applause echoed from every corner. But all of it became nothing more than a distant hum. 

The world shrank until it was only Aemond and me, caught in the moment, as though the crowd itself had dissolved into mist.

Aemond's gaze was locked on mine, unblinking, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. 

There was something in his eye now—something I hadn't expected to see. Love. 

Not the calculating ambition I'd come to know, nor the guarded intensity he so often wore like armour, but raw, unguarded affection. 

It softened his sharp features, lending a rare vulnerability to his normally impenetrable demeanour. It was startling, unfamiliar, and yet... so genuine.

"You said yes," he breathed, his voice low and filled with wonder, barely audible amidst the roars of celebration. 

His gaze searched mine as if trying to anchor himself to the reality of it.

I leaned in, just close enough to feel the tension coil between us like an invisible thread. 

My lips curled into a sly smile, one that I knew would make his pulse quicken. "I did. You didn't think I'd make it easy for you, did you?"

His lips twitched into a smile—rare, genuine, and brimming with affection. "Not for a second," he replied, the faintest trace of a laugh hidden in his voice.

For a fleeting moment, it felt as if the entire hall faded into nothingness. 

The jubilant crowd, the clinking of goblets, the resounding music—all of it vanished, leaving only us. 

Aemond and I, standing in the centre of the room as though the world itself had paused to acknowledge what we had become.

His hand found mine, his touch firm but tender, as though he feared I might slip away. 

I allowed him to pull me toward the dance floor, though I made certain he knew—I was no delicate prize to be flaunted. 

I was the prize he had fought for, and I would remind him of that with every step.

The crowd watched us as we moved together, though I hardly noticed their stares. It was just him and me, locked in a dance that wasn't just about movement, but about power and desire. 

Every step was a test, a tease, a challenge.

He pulled me closer, his lips grazing my ear, his breath hot against my skin. "You drive me mad," he whispered, his voice rough, barely restrained.

A laugh escaped my lips, soft and teasing. "I know," I murmured back, letting my lips hover near his. "And yet, here you are."

His eye flashed with a hunger that was all too familiar, the kind that thrilled me to my core. "I always knew you'd make this difficult."

I smirked, leaning in so close that our lips nearly touched, though I denied him the satisfaction. 

"Difficult?" I whispered, my voice laced with challenge. "Oh, Aemond, I haven't even begun."

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, sending a delicious shiver down my spine. 

Without warning, he dipped me low, his hand tightening possessively at my waist, anchoring me to him. "You love driving me insane, don't you?"

My grin was wicked, my eyes gleaming with mischief. "Admit it, you wouldn't have it any other way."

His grip tightened, his eye burning with a mixture of amusement and need. 

"Stay with me," he murmured, the command in his voice softened by the raw emotion underneath. "Challenge me. I want all of you—fierce and wild."

A fire ignited in me at his words, a blaze that mirrored the intensity in his gaze. "Oh, you'll have all of me," I promised, my voice sharp and electric. "And then some."

The music began to fade, but we remained entwined, our bodies still pressed together, refusing to part even as the final notes echoed through the hall. 

The cheers of the crowd swirled around us, but we paid them no mind. 

This wasn't just a dance—it was a declaration. Of love, yes, but also of defiance. 

A silent understanding that we were two forces who had found their equal in one another, bound by something far more powerful than any title or crown.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the intensity—a low, amused drawl. "Stop eye-fucking each other."

I blinked, startled out of the trance, and turned to find Meric standing close, his expression one of barely concealed amusement.

I let out a laugh, breaking the tension but not the connection. 

"Don't be jealous, pretty boy," I shot back with a playful wink, watching as Meric rolled his eyes and disappeared back into the crowd, shaking his head.

Aemond's grip on me tightened immediately, his gaze dark and hungry once more. He pulled me back to him, the space between us vanishing in an instant. 

"Shall we... escape?" he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, his voice a sultry promise.

I trailed my fingers down his chest, feeling the hard planes beneath the fabric, relishing the way his breath hitched at my touch. 

"Depends on what you have in mind, my prince," I purred, my voice daring him to match my boldness.

"Everything," he whispered, his voice a velvet growl. "And then some."

With a laugh, I seized his hand, weaving us through the crowd with the ease of a queen leading her conquest. 

Heads turned, but I didn't care—every step was deliberate, every glance shared between us crackling with unspoken promises. 

There was no hesitation, only the simmering heat that seemed to pull us closer with each stride.

The moment we were alone, Aemond's restraint snapped. He shoved me against the wall, the force of it sending a delicious thrill through my body. 

His lips collided with mine, fierce and demanding, the kiss bruising, claiming—each movement slow but devastating, as if he sought to consume every part of me.

I met him with equal fire, refusing to yield, letting my desire match his intensity. 

His hands roamed my body with a raw, almost desperate need, each touch branding me, leaving sparks of heat under my skin.

But I wasn't about to let him control everything.

Breathless, I pushed him back, my heart racing as I locked eyes with him, my gaze a smouldering challenge. 

"Come," I commanded, voice low and dripping with intent. 

I didn't wait for him to respond, grabbing his wrist and dragging him towards my chambers. There was no choice but to follow.

As soon as the door slammed shut behind us, all pretence of restraint crumbled. 

Desire ignited between us like wildfire, a blur of frantic touches and desperate kisses, hands grasping, pulling, tearing. 

Every kiss was a battle for dominance, every moan a declaration of victory. The sound of our ragged whispers and gasps filled the room, thick with the tension that crackled in the air like a storm ready to break.

We were relentless—neither willing to yield, both pushing each other to the brink. 

It was raw, primal, bodies locked in a fierce dance for control, the pressure building higher and higher until sanity itself threatened to snap.

Aemond's lips descended down my body, leaving a blazing trail of fire in their wake, each kiss a demand, an unspoken command for my surrender. 

But surrender wasn't part of my plan. Not yet.

In a swift move, I flipped us, pinning him beneath me, catching him off guard. His eyes widened with surprise, but I didn't give him a chance to recover. 

With a wicked grin, I straddled him, sinking down onto him with reckless abandon, the heat between us flaring, untamed and insatiable.

"Fuck," he groaned, the sound deep and guttural, his hands flying to my hips, desperate to gain some control as I began to move, riding him with wild, relentless rhythm. 

Every thrust brought us closer to that dangerous precipice, the one that promised no return.

His grip tightened, fingers digging into my skin, leaving bruises I knew would last long after this moment. He tried to steady me, to regain even the slightest hint of dominance, but I wasn't about to give him that satisfaction. 

Not now. Not when I had him exactly where I wanted him.

"You feel... incredible," he gasped, his voice ragged as his hips thrust upward in a desperate attempt to meet my pace, to match the fevered rhythm I set.

I laughed, breathless, wild, the sound tumbling from my lips as I rocked harder against him, driving us both closer to the edge. 

My body moved with reckless abandon, each movement deliberate, every bounce designed to push him deeper, to bring us closer to the brink of madness.

"I know, darling," I whispered, my voice a seductive purr as I leaned down, our mouths just a breath apart, my gaze never leaving his. 

With a roguish smile, I closed the distance, crashing my lips against his in a savage, hungry kiss. 

My teeth grazed his lower lip, biting down just enough to elicit a sharp gasp from him. "I know."

The world around us ceased to exist—no walls, no room, just us, lost in a whirlwind of desire and heat, moving together in perfect, chaotic harmony. 

The storm between us raged, wild and untamed, dragging us under its relentless force, pushing us to the edge of sanity until there was nothing left but the heat, the hunger, and the desperate need to consume one another.

Finally, the storm broke, and we collapsed onto the bed, bodies tangled together, breathless and spent. 

The moonlight spilt through the window, casting a silvery glow over our dishevelled bodies and the twisted sheets, still damp from our passion.

The silence that followed was thick with satisfaction, but the tension between us remained, a heady charge that lingered in the air as if the night itself wasn't done with us yet. 

Even as we lay there, hearts still racing, the storm between us had merely been tempered—not extinguished. 

And in the quiet aftermath, I could feel it—waiting, ready to ignite once again.

I turned my head, watching him as he lay beside me, his chest still heaving from the frenzy we'd just shared. 

There was something different about him now—stripped of the armour that he so carefully wore around others. 

He lay bare, both in body and in spirit, his pale hair fanned across the pillows like a fallen angel.

His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, lost in thought, but when our eyes finally met, a flash of something raw flickered across his face. Vulnerability, perhaps? 

It was a side of him few ever saw. A smile tugged at my lips as I realized that in this moment, I had done the impossible: I had undone the great Prince Aemond Targaryen.

"You're staring," I teased, my voice cutting through the stillness like a blade, sultry and amused.

I propped myself up on one elbow, letting my gaze drink him in. 

His chest rose and fell, his muscles taut beneath his smooth skin, yet there was something soft in the way he looked at me, a quiet reverence I wasn't used to seeing in him.

"I thought I'd worn you out," I said with a grin, letting the words linger like a challenge.

He scoffed, but the sound was tinged with heat, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. 

"Not even close," he replied, his voice low and dangerous.

Slowly, deliberately, he sat up. The movement was fluid, feline—charged with a barely contained intensity that made my breath catch. 

He propped himself against the headboard, his gaze locked on mine, unwavering, consuming. 

His hand reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from my face, the touch slow, lingering as though he was memorizing the moment.

His fingers traced the curve of my jaw, his eyes dark with something deeper than lust, something that made my pulse quicken. 

It was almost reverent, the way he touched me. As if I were something sacred.

"You're fierce," he murmured, his voice gravelly, every word carrying a weight that sank into my skin, igniting a fire within me. "You challenge me, push me... you make me question everything I thought I knew about myself."

His confession hung between us, heavy and raw, the vulnerability in his words startling. 

This wasn't the arrogant prince everyone else saw. This was Aemond, undone, laying bare the truth he rarely shared. 

He was used to power, to control—and I was the one force he couldn't predict, couldn't conquer.

"No one's ever done that before," he continued, his voice dropping lower, almost as if the admission was foreign to him like he couldn't quite believe the truth himself. 

His gaze bored into mine, searching, desperate for something he had never asked for before. "You've enchanted me in a way I didn't think possible."

A soft laugh escaped me, though I felt the warmth spreading through my chest at his words. 

"Enchanted?" I arched a brow, the sharp grin on my lips betraying my amusement. "You make it sound like I've cast a spell on you."

He chuckled a deep, throaty sound that sent a shiver racing down my spine. It was rare to hear him laugh, even rarer to see him so unguarded. 

For just a moment, his stoic features softened, his expression almost boyish—a glimpse of the man beneath the warrior.

"Perhaps you have," he said, the sincerity in his voice catching me off guard. 

His eye softened as he looked at me, the intensity simmering into something deeper. "I never thought I would meet someone who could make me feel like this. But you... you've shattered every wall I've built."

The weight of his words hung in the air, electric and charged. His forehead rested gently against mine, our breaths mingling in the fragile space between us. 

The closeness was intoxicating like the air itself was thick with the tension that stretched between us—unbreakable, undeniable.

There was no escaping it. His presence wrapped around me, a storm of need and obsession, yet I wasn't swept away. I met his gaze, fierce and unyielding. 

I wasn't some fragile thing to be consumed. I was the storm, and he was the one caught in it.

His hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair as he pulled me closer, the space between us shrinking to a breath. 

His lips hovered just above mine, teasing, the heat of his breath making my pulse quicken. 

The tension was unbearable, the hunger between us like a live wire, buzzing, sparking.

"You say I've enchanted you," I murmured, my voice a low, daring whisper. I let my lips graze his, barely touching, teasing him with what I knew he craved. 

"But it's you, Aemond. You are the one who can't look away."

His grip tightened, his fingers digging into my skin with a possessiveness that sent a thrill racing through me. 

His eye darkened, filled with hunger and something deeper—something fierce and consuming, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

"Maybe," he whispered, his voice thick with want, his lips brushing mine in the barest of touches, enough to send a shockwave through me. "But if that's true, then I never want to break free."

And in that moment, I knew it wasn't just lust that tied him to me—it was obsession. 

A fire that burned for me alone, wild and insatiable. And I was more than willing to let it consume us both.

A/n - Last long chapter to tie it all up but I still have a cute little epilogue to post! This was so so fun to write and I'm super grateful for everyone who's read it and said anything kind about it <3

Enchanted tag list - @mamawiggers1980 @shilphy87 @esposadomd @targaryendestiel @deepeststarlightmoon

@thebirdandthebee @queen-of-elves @believeinthefireflies95 @veesuguru

[aimportantdragoncollector]

My next werewolfverse story will focus on the temporary second pack that decided to live in peace with humanity and not turn humans against their will. In preparation, here is some backstory on how the second pack, the League of Luna, was created. It took multiple mistakes to lead to this disaster (or rather, disaster from the Lupercal Empire werewolves’ perspective). Darius can be proud to say he had a huge part.

Darius led a mercenary group and one of their own got in trouble with the Wolf Hunters. She had never even met a werewolf, but medieval Wolf Hunters functioned a lot like professional witch hunters, bullying anyone who seemed different and falsely accusing people to murder them and steal their belongings. The Wolf Hunters picked the wrong target as they underestimated the close bonds among this particular mercenary group.

Darius and company broke in to rescue their friend. They also freed all the other prisoners, including an infected man. Then they skipped town.

To go back in time: a Lupercal werewolf had a forbidden secret romance with a human, and the human’s own family turned him over to the Wolf Hunters for a homosexual relationship. They didn’t even know about the werewolf part, the Wolf Hunters just decided homosexuality had been invented by werewolves. (In reality, the Wolf Hunters found gay humans easier to bully than werewolves.) If the Wolf Hunters had known they’d imprisoned a man actually infected, they’d have murdered him immediately instead of doing their usual torture to get a fake confession. The infection spread around some other prisoners due to the wolf’s innate desire to make allies and help people in a bad situation. The chaos of the jail break spread blood around even more, also leading to some latent infections which are even harder for the pack to track down because they don't show up right away.

The Vanguard was very Not Happy TM because this is how you get a second pack. They found out when the werewolf guy who was the original source came clean.

Werewolf: So, I was dating this cute local human and he was worried about anyone finding out we were in a same sex relationship and not sure if he wanted to become a werewolf. I didn’t tell him the infection could be sexually transmitted and figured I would pretend it was an accident so he wouldn’t get mad. I also figured we’d bite the homophobia out of his family afterward. But then he went missing and I found out the Wolf Hunters captured him, I’m not sure if it’s because he’s infected or the gay thing. Please help?

Vanguard: You moron. You imbecilic. You unbelievable dingbat. You shit-for-brains. Yes, of course we’ll help you, that’s what pack is for.

The Vanguard arrived a little too late. A whole group of infected prisoners got freed by Darius and his friends, including their original target. The Vanguard had a lot of fun chasing down them and everyone they’d infected. (Cassian actually had fun, the rest of the Vanguard would say that sarcastically.) Meanwhile Darius’ comrade had gotten infected by her cellmate and didn’t realize at first, then she thought she could keep it under control. Predictably that ended with her biting the entire group. Many ran in all directions, creating even more of a headache for the Vanguard.

One particular prisoner among all the others got lost in the crowd. Luna lived a very exciting life that I may talk more about later: a childhood in slavery, marrying a nobleman who died and left her a fortune, becoming an abolitionist, and starting a pacifist cult. Even though this cult was a deeply harmless bunch who wouldn’t even eat meat or raise a hand in self-defense, the local organized religion had no tolerance for religious diversity and arrested Luna. The Wolf Hunters did not immediately kill her because of her noble status and the large group of cultists peacefully protesting outside. Those cultists would later be a great distraction for Darius as he busted in the back.

Luna had a lower priority in the Vanguard’s hunt because no one had a particular emotional attachment to her. Big mistake.

In the chaos, Luna returned to her cult and very conveniently had followers eager to accept a holy blessing from their leader. It was the perfect condition to create a pack because a large group of people had an isolated location in the forest to shelter. The cult’s pacifist principles forbade infecting people against their will. Also, the cultists were generally isolated people with no one outside the cult who they cared about, so they didn’t immediately generate a biting urge before this rule solidified. The cult kept their pacifist ideals. If anything, it’s easier to be a pacifist as a massive eldritch monster whose hide is tough enough to break swords.

Fun fact, Darius unknowingly helped Luna’s group a second time merely by existing. Cassian had been on Luna’s trail when he got distracted chasing Darius again. And that delay gave the second pack time to form, because the other Vanguard agents on the trail weren’t quite as good. They definitely weren’t as ruthless as Cassian, who would have said “I bet if we start kidnapping locals they will suspect the new werewolves and lead us straight to them as a pitchfork wielding mob. What? I’m not saying to actually eat anyone, just pretend we did.”

By the time the Vanguard found them, this group had already developed into a second pack. In the past, the werewolves had absorbed other packs. If two packs meet and have no reason to fight, then they will naturally merge. A schism happens when there is an irreconcilable difference, such as the second pack believing that transformation should only be consensual and the original pack having a mission to convert all of humanity. The original pack attempted negotiations, saying that no one would ask the pacifists to be involved in biting people against their will, but the pacifists weren’t willing to stand by and let others do it. The original pack also challenged them to a competition to determine if they would merge (a typical werewolf way of settling disputes). But the second pack knew themselves to be weaker and refused to play. There was a dance of manipulation and bribes, but the second pack wouldn’t budge. It’s probably good that cultists made up the second pack because this group was stubborn as hell and used to standing up against the majority’s pressure.

At this point someone (it was Cassian) suggested that they should tell the local humans about the werewolves living among them. When the humans inevitably attacked, Luna’s pack would obtain a bunch of new members, the newbies would want to bite their families, and they would have big enough numbers to tip the pack over to biting people against their will. It was an evil plan but it could have worked. However, the local lord decided that humanity could use some werewolf allies and decided to make peace with Luna’s pack instead. He even persuaded the king. For once human leadership made a smart decision—shocking, I know. In exchange the kingdom obtained the second pack protecting them from invasion by standing between them and any werewolves who tried it.

Meanwhile the second pack continued to expand peacefully, having an easier time getting volunteers due to having good publicity with humans. The second pack would have grown faster than the original one, with the support of surrounding humans, except a lot of their new recruits would defect over to the original pack when they discovered they really really wanted to be able to bite people. It’s easy for werewolves to switch between packs, the no pack infighting rule means no one can stop them. Strays are more complicated. The second pack also had a “no breaking strays” rule. Some strays joined the second pack willingly. Some strays just wanted to hang around the second pack’s territory for protection without joining, but that didn’t work out so well. Strays who get friendly with pack wolves slip into the pack without even noticing.

For a while the werewolves had an unplanned and accidental good-cop, bad-cop deal going where the threat of the original pack pushed more people to join the second pack willingly and pushed human rulers to accept the second pack as allies. This in turn would later help the werewolves whitewash their image. The second pack became the source of some fun stories until they inevitably collapsed. More on that later.

[onechicagolife]

ABSENTIA | JAY HALSTEAD

Detective Jay Halstead is a senior member of the Intelligence Unit, where he is partnered with Detective Hailey Upton after his former partner went missing undercover. While he never wanted to give up hope, the CPD assumed her dead and he was resigned to accept it. Now, two years later, Jay gets a sudden phone call with news that changes his life forever. Avery Clarke is alive. want to be tagged? link in bio <3

Chapter 23

The sun filtered softly through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the tangled mess of sheets and limbs. The room was quiet, filled only with the distant hum of the city outside and the slow, steady breaths of the woman beside him. Jay woke to warmth. The kind that settled deep, that made it impossible to do anything but stay exactly where he was.

Avery lay curled into his side, her bare skin pressed against his, her breath warm and even against his collarbone. His arm was slung around her, fingers moving idly in light, absentminded patterns across the curve of her spine.

He didn't move. Didn't want to. Instead, he just watched her—the way her lashes flickered slightly, the way her lips parted softly in sleep. She looked so at peace, so untouched by the chaos of the world they lived in, filled with bullets flying at them and undercover stints with Russian crime bosses.

They rarely got mornings like this. Slow. Unrushed. Just them. And he wanted more of them.

That was why the velvet box with his mother's ring was tucked away in his bag. He had planned everything—take her to the cabin, just the two of them. No cases. No stress. No danger.

Just them.

And then he was going to ask her to marry him. It wasn't going to be some elaborate, orchestrated moment. There would be no grand speeches, no excessive plans. Just a ring, a question, and the rest of their lives. Because that was them. Simple. Natural. The way they were always meant to be.

She shifted slightly, her nose brushing against his collarbone before she let out a sleepy hum. Jay smiled, his fingers trailing up to her face, brushing his thumb gently over her cheekbone. "Morning," he whispered.

Avery made a small noise of protest, burrowing closer against him, her face pressed to his chest. "Too early," she grumbled, her voice muffled against his skin.

Jay chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "It's not even that early."

She huffed, one eye cracking open, still hazy with sleep and warmth. Then she stretched like a cat, her body arching against his, her muscles flexing beneath golden morning light.

Jay watched her, his chest tightening with something deep, something unwavering. How the hell did he get this lucky?

Then, with a wicked grin, she climbed on top of him, the sheets pooling around her waist as she straddled him, hands pressed to his chest. "So," she drew out the word, eyes gleaming with mirth. "What's the plan for our little getaway?"

He exhaled, schooling his expression into something neutral, even as his hands skimmed up her bare thighs, anchoring her firmly in place. Even as he pictured the look on her face when he got down on one knee. "That's classified."

Avery bit her lip, leaning down, her mouth ghosting over the shell of his ear. "I have ways of making you talk."

"Yeah?" Jay laughed, his grip tightening on her hips.

She hummed in response, her voice low, suggestive, "I'm extremely skilled at interrogation."

"Hopefully these aren't your usual methods," he teased, arching a brow.

Avery rolled her hips just slightly, enough to make his breath catch, her smirk deepening. "Just for you, babe." She leaned in, her nose brushing against his, teasing him with a barely-there kiss.

His heart thudded hard against his ribs, every part of him anchored to this moment, to her.

Because this was it. This was everything, and he never wanted it to end.

Jay jerks awake. Pain explodes through his ribs, hot and blinding, stealing his breath before he even fully registers where he is. His vision swims, the dim, flickering light above him casting eerie shadows that twist and blur.

Concrete. A cold chair digging into his back. His wrists bound tightly to its arms, plastic biting into raw skin.

Fuck.

His pulse spikes, body tensing on instinct—

And then he hears her breathing, and relief crashes through him. His head snaps up, ignoring the sharp protest of his ribs, eyes zeroing in on the figure across from him. Her head hangs forward slightly, hair falling into her face, but she's breathing. Jay exhales, forcing his breath steady, blinking hard, "Avery."

A soft groan slips from her lips as she stirs, her wrists burning from the zip ties, her head pounding violently. Her eyes flutter open, unfocused, her head throbbing. Panic claws at her chest, but Avery forces herself to stay still, to breathe, to take in her surroundings. It ebbs slightly when she sees him. Her voice is hoarse from disuse, "Jay?"

"I'm here," he reassures.

Her chest rises too fast, a familiar sinking feeling crashing through her gut. The room, the restraints, the way the cold bleeds into her skin. It's too familiar, and it's like she's back there again. Hanging from the ceiling in chains. Her breathing stutters, panic coiling like a vice around her lungs.

Jay sees it immediately. He recognizes the signs—the way her shoulders lock up, the way her breath comes too fast, too uneven. "Ave, look at me." His voice is soft but firm, grounding her before she spirals completely. Her eyes snap to his, wide and filled with something he hates seeing in her—fear. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, ignoring the sharp agony in his ribs, "Just breathe with me."

She nods quickly, watching the way his chest moves, forcing herself to match him.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

The panic doesn't vanish, but the fog lifts just enough.

After a few moments, after she's calmed enough, Jay finally asks, "You okay?"

Avery shifts slightly in her restraints, testing them. "Been better." Her gaze rakes over him, flickering with something sharp and worried as she takes in the blood on his face, the bruising forming along his jaw, "You?"

He exhales sharply, gritting his teeth against the pain, "Think I've got a busted rib."

She tugs harder at that, but the zip ties don't budge. "What the hell happened?"

"We drove into a trap," Jay grits out, struggling against his own ties. The plastic digs into his skin, but he doesn't care—he has to get them out of here.

Avery opens her mouth but before she can respond, the door across the room opens. Both of their heads snap toward it, but they can't see anything in the darkness. Then a familiar voice cuts through the silence, sending a cold shiver down her spine.

"Finally awake, Talia. Or do you prefer Avery? Detective Clarke?"

Her blood turns to ice. Nikolai. She forces her face into a mask of indifference, despite the fear curling in her gut. "Nik," she says cooly, even as her pulse hammers against her ribs. "If you missed me that bad, you should've just called."

A slow, humorless chuckle drifts through the air. Footsteps echo against the concrete, deliberate and measured, as Nikolai steps into view. Hands tucked casually into his pockets, his dark eyes gleaming with something sharp and twisted. He looks the same. And yet, somehow worse. The boyish charm she'd grown familiar with is gone, replaced with something colder, more lethal.

And the anger—the anger flows from him in radioactive waves, like he has been waiting for this moment.

"I trusted you," he says, his voice eerily calm, and that terrifies her more than anything. "And you lied to me."

Avery arches an eyebrow, shrugging casually, "It wasn't hard."

Something flashes in his expression, something almost like hurt before it's swallowed by fury. "That's the thing about love," he mutters, stepping closer. "It makes you blind. It makes you a fool. And you made me a fool, Talia." He spits the name like it's poison on his tongue, before his gaze flicks to Jay. A wicked grin spreads across his face, "Ah. And there he is. The boyfriend."

Jay grits out roughly, "Go to hell."

Nikolai laughs, circling behind Avery's chair, fingers trailing along the wooden frame. "The valiant Detective Halstead," he muses, feigning nostalgia.

"Don't talk to him," Avery snaps, jaw tight.

He just looks amused as he ignores her. "When I first heard about you, Halstead, I wasn't very impressed. But I'll admit, you fought harder than my men thought you would." His fingers trail deliberately along her sleeve. "The things we do for love, no?"

Jay strains against the zip ties, every muscle in his body coiled with rage. "Get your hands off her."

"Oh, Detective," he tuts, shaking his head as his smirk only grows. "You act like I haven't already had her."

Avery doesn't flinch. "In your dreams," she scoffs.

Nikolai clicks his tongue. "I was good to you, wasn't I?" He cups her chin, forcing her to look at him, "I gave you everything. Protection. Power. And what did you do with it?" His grip tightens just slightly, enough to send a warning. "You betrayed me."

She narrows her eyes, steel in her voice despite the tremor in her hands. "It wasn't a betrayal, Nik. I was never loyal to you to begin with."

His eyes darken, the mask of amusement slipping for just a second. "I don't believe you," he says, a wistful lilt to his tone. Like a part of him doesn’t want to accept that she never cared, that it was all one complicated, drawn out lie.

Jay's breathing is sharp, painful and unsteady. He's trying to hold it together, trying to remind himself that Volkov is a liar, a manipulator, a sadistic bastard who thrives on control. But the second Nikolai tilts his head, smirking, his gaze flickering between Avery and Jay like he's savoring this moment, he knows what's coming. And he hates that Nikolai can already see how much this is getting to him.

"You know, Halstead..." He stops beside Avery's chair, trailing his fingers lightly over the top of it—just close enough to feel like a threat, but not touching her again. "I have to say, I admire your taste."

Jay glares, his fingers curling into fists against the arm rests, "Shut the fuck up."

Nikolai laughs under his breath, his fingers tapping against the chair absently. "When I first saw her, I was mesmerized," he hums, shaking his head. "The most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, yes. But the fire beneath, that's what caught my eye." He smirks, glancing down at Avery.

She doesn't look at him, her body vibrating with restrained fury.

"Don't fucking talk about her," Jay warns through grit teeth.

Nik ignores him, his grin widening as he tilts his head toward Avery. "And she knew it, knew exactly how to use her...talents to her advantage. Isn't that right, malyshka?"

Avery jerks her shoulder away when his fingers get too close, "I am not your baby."

"No?" he quirks a brow. "Not even when you begged for it like you had never been touched properly before?"

Her chest rises and falls quickly, her body strung so tight she feels like she might snap. He's lying. She knows it. Jay knows it. But the way Nikolai says it, so casual, so cruel, like it's some cherished fucking memory—it makes her stomach churn violently.

Nik crouches beside her chair, eyes gleaming at the pure rage on Jay's face. "Tell him, Avery," he mutters, voice soft, mocking.

"You're a fucking liar." Her jaw clenches so tightly it aches, pain splintering through her temples, but she doesn't care. Doesn't care about the zip ties cutting into her skin, doesn't care about the bruises forming along her ribs. Because she won't let him win. Her nails dig into her palms, sharp and biting, keeping her anchored, keeping her from showing weakness.

"You keep saying that.” His fingers twist into her hair and yank hard, wrenching her head back violently, and she sucks in a sharp breath through her teeth. The angle forces her to look up at him, his face hovering too close, his breath hot against her skin. "But I remember how much you liked it rough."

Jay loses all semblance of control. "I will kill you, you sick fuck," he snarls dangerously, each word dripping with a promise of violence. He wrenches against the restraints, his muscles straining so brutally that the chair screeches against the floor, metal legs scraping against the concrete.

Avery sees the rage in his eyes, the kind of rage that destroys everything in its path, but Nikolai only grins. He loves this. He's relishing it. Because this isn't just about hurting her—the woman who manipulated him into loving her—it's about hurting Jay, the man she actually cared about.

Nikolai tilts his head slightly before he whispers, still loud enough for them both to hear, "Should we give him a little show?"

Something in Avery snaps. Her vision flashes red, fury blazing so hot it scorches her skin, and she spits in his face.

The moment the saliva splatters across his cheek, the room goes deathly still.

Jay stills in his chair, and he struggles to fight back the proud smile threatening to take over his face.

Nikolai's entire expression twists, the amusement gone in an instant, replaced by something dark, simmering, volatile. He lets go of her instantly, jerking back, his hand wiping slowly across his cheek. His breathing is heavy, nostrils flaring as his other hand curls into a fist at his side.

When he reels his hand back, she braces herself for the hit, every muscle tensing. But it never comes.

A voice cuts through the tension like a blade. "That's enough." It's sharp, commanding, and it makes the room shift instantly.

Nikolai freezes, his body going rigid.

Avery turns her head, breath catching in her throat as she sees the man stepping into the room. Her stomach twists violently with instant recognition.

But it's the way he looks at her that's confusing. Not with amusement. Not with rage. Not with indifference. But with familiarity. Like he's seen her before. Like he knows her.

And when he speaks, his voice is smooth, confident, dripping with something unreadable. "Hello again, Talia."

Avery's blood runs cold. Her pulse pounds viciously against her ribs, her breath hitching in her throat.

Because she doesn't remember ever meeting Dmitri Volkov.

But he remembers her.

prev . . . next

[lightan117]

Mourn Watch Headcannons 2

I had to make more now that I've finished the game....

As a reminder - this is based on the character that I've used, but I've mostly tried to keep Rook's gender natural.

Mourn Watch in general:

Students 100% ship Myrna and Vorgoth together. They also have little betting pools on which professors sleep with whom. Many students also end up as couples that eventually lead to the next generation.

Speaking of students - the students are the entire gossip pool of the Necropolis. The teachers get their information from the students.

Nevarran beetles are 100% pets (think Scarabs). Mourn Watchers will try to have different colors and species. Golden beetles are rare, but green ones are common.

More on the Grand Necropolis is Hogwarts - first-year students ALWAYS get lost, and search parties always stand by the first few months to find the ones who are. Spirits who are restless might "lure" people away and just peace out when they are well and truly lost (Vorgoth is never happy when this time rolls around)

If students get in trouble, their punishments are to deal with the gentry and clean their tombs. Ever want to hear a spirit complain about how students are not cleaning their tomb correctly? No, didn't think so.

Everyone knows that Markus Pentaghast is dead or undead. It may not be confirmed, but low-key, everyone knows that man is not really "alive." Emmrich confirms it with Lucanis, but we all know Mourn Watchers just know in general just by reading the news. The king was poisoned again? Of course, it didn't work—the man is already dead, guys. Take a hint.

They love to throw any type of fancy party to one-up each other. If someone is having a fight, they don't brawl - they throw the biggest party to show off.

Mourn Watch Rook:

Mourn Watch Rook, when traveling to Treviso, will always look to see if there is anything that they can bring back for Myrna and Vorgoth (Big sister and brother energy). Def will try and get Vorgoth and Viago together to talk about paintings.

There is a scene where Harding mentions Rooks' speech not being as proper unless they are talking to a fellow mourn watcher—THIS IS ON PURPOSE, NO ONE CAN KNOW THAT THEY ARE VERY PROPER IN SPEECH! They worked really hard that first year with Varric to be "normal." They can switch back and forth really easily.

Minrathous is the place they dislike the most due to their view on spirits and power. Feels bad for those in Dock Town - hate everyone up top. Politics are almost the same but not as bad I feel.

Would pester Emmrich (in the best way) about what they missed in Nevarra and any lessons he could teach them. Lessons from one of the top professors in the Mourn Watch? Why the fuck not?! They can also nerd out together about all things undead.

Assan and Manfred are the favorites of the whole group

Rook has beetles in their room - fight me - everyone knows and thinks its weird when they show up at the lighthouse with a glass case full of beetles. Spite thinks they're cool.

(End of Game) Mourn Watch Rook and dating:

If Mourn Watch Rook is dating Lucanis, they would have a hard time once everything is...normal I guess? I'm sure the Mourn Watch would give the nobility the middle finger if they protest Rook coming back to Nevarra (they would be welcomed back with open arms - Rook just made them fucking famous). Their role, they take seriously, but they would find some common ground to meet in the middle. I could see that the Mourn Watch would allow Rook to work out of Treviso but have to make trips home for rites/reports/gossip. Rook is the only exception tho, everyone is shit out of luck until Rook decides to put forward change. Lucanis and Rook do end up getting married and having a bunch of kids (adoption or by natural).

If Mourn Watch Rook is dating Emmrich, they would move back to Nevarra to live together. Rook would be allowed back into the Mourn Watch cuz why the fuck not...

(Spoilers!)If Emmrich became a Litch - I would feel things would be difficult due that the man is undead and would outlive them (there is no going around that topic; it will be rough). There will be arguments and such, but after about, I would say, a year, things will die down into a routine. The topic of marriage might come up and there might be one. (Lots of convos about what happens when Rook does die). Emmrich might try to stay teaching students and opening up conversations with Litchs still having relationships with the living as per his relationship with Rook being an example. An uphill battle if you choose this route.

(Spoilers!) If Emmrich did NOT become a Litch - this route might be a tid difficult but not as much as if Emmrich is a litch. Since he's human with Manfred (Manny as I call him) you two are in your perfect little bubble that no one can pop. Emmirch would go back to teaching and Rook could do whatever they want. They could teach if they wanted, become an instructor, or even help Myrna. Emmrich does have fears of his death still but Rook would be there to help him along with Manny. When the time comes, Rook would not be left alone.

[charliedawn]

Marry Poppins Meets the Penny Brothers Part 2

Penny was not one to give up easily.

In fact, the more he was rejected, the more determined he became. He had survived centuries, terrorized towns, and devoured countless souls—but courting Mary Poppins ? That was proving to be his most difficult challenge yet.

But Penny loved a challenge.

And so, he planned his next attempt with great care.

Mary Poppins was enjoying a peaceful afternoon tea in the park when a familiar presence made itself known. The birds had stopped singing. The wind had stilled. Even the children playing nearby had momentarily quieted, sensing something not quite right.

She set her teacup down with a sigh.

“Penny,” she said without even turning.

A delighted chuckle followed. “How ever did you know ?”

“An instinct for nonsense,” she replied smoothly. She finally turned—and there he was, standing before her in a fine three-piece suit, his red curls tamed, his usual manic energy restrained. In one gloved hand, he held a heart-shaped box of chocolates. In the other, a violin.

Mary Poppins gave him a long, unimpressed stare. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

Penny grinned. “Oh, my dear Mary, I’m nothing if not dedicated.”

She sighed. “And what, pray tell, is this little performance meant to accomplish ?”

Penny dramatically placed a hand over his chest. “A grand romantic gesture, of course !” He waggled his brows. “I even wrote you a song !”

Before she could protest, he lifted the violin and began to play. The tune was haunting, yet strangely beautiful—until he started singing.

“Ohhh Mary Poppins, with eyes so bright,

Won’t you give me just one night ?

I’ll take you flying, we’ll see the stars—

Or perhaps just feast on some beating hearts ?”

Mary Poppins inhaled sharply at that last part. “Penny.”

“Your prim and proper ways are grand,

But think of all that we have planned—”

“Penny.”

“A lady like you, a clown like me—”

“Penny.”

The violin vanished in an instant. Penny straightened, beaming at her. “Yes, my dear Miss Poppins ?”

Mary Poppins set her teacup down with the utmost patience, then clasped her hands in her lap. “You will cease this foolishness immediately.”

Penny sighed, dropping into a crouch beside her. “Oh, come on, Mary, just one date !”

She scoffed and looked away, but still gave him a curious glance. “And what exactly do you imagine a date with you would entail ?”

Penny’s grin widened. “Ohhh, I don’t know…a lovely walk through the sewers ? A nice dinner, perhaps something…fresh ?��� He changed into a cooking outfit with a snap of his fingers. “I am quite the chef.”

Mary Poppins adjusted her gloves and politely declined. “I do not dine with monsters.”

Penny gasped, feigning offense. “Monsters ? But I am courtly ! I am refined ! I even brought you chocolates !”

Mary Poppins took the heart-shaped box and inspected it. Then, without breaking eye contact, she tapped it against the table.

A loud squelch echoed as something moved inside.

She sighed and handed it back. “I do not eat beating hearts, Penny.”

He pouted. “That was a very hard one to catch. Prime quality.”

Before he could try again, she lifted her umbrella. A sharp gust of wind launched him backward, sending him tumbling across the grass and into the duck pond with a spectacular splash. The park returned to normal. The birds resumed singing. The children laughed, resuming their games.

Mary Poppins calmly sipped her tea.

From the pond, Penny’s head popped up, water dripping from his curls.

From the shadows, Pennywise shook his head and snorted. “You are humiliating yourself.”

Penny spit out a lily pad and huffed. “Worth it.”

Penny had never been one to take no for an answer. And after being rejected three times (technically four, but who was counting ?), he decided it was time for something bigger.

Something spectacular.

Something she couldn’t possibly refuse.

And so, late one evening, as Mary Poppins prepared to retire after a long day, she heard it. A rumbling. A thudding. A distant roar of excitement. With a sigh, she crossed to the window and pulled back the curtain.

What she saw made even her pause.

There, standing beneath the glow of the streetlamps, was Penny—in his full clown regalia, arms outstretched as an entire parade of grotesque carnival creatures marched down the street behind him. A skeletal marching band clashed cymbals and played a wailing tune. Acrobats with too many joints twisted unnaturally in midair. A trio of painted ladies juggled their own detached heads. A massive, elephantine beast with six legs lumbered behind them, its trunk curling into shapes that spelled out:

“MARY, SAY YES !”

And in the middle of it all, Penny himself, grinning ear to ear, standing atop a unicycle. He held a twenty-foot-long banner that read:

“BE MINE, OR ELSE I’LL CRY !”

Mary Poppins stared.

Then, with deliberate slowness, she shut the curtain.

Penny froze. “Wait, what ? No—she didn’t even—!”

The parade fell into disarray. One of the skeletal musicians tripped over his own femur. The acrobats crashed into each other mid-flip. The elephantine beast let out a confused blarp and vanished into mist.

Penny turned to his brother, who stood watching from the shadows. “Did she just ignore me ?!”

Pennywise, who had remained unimpressed through the entire ordeal, only sighed. “I warned you.”

Penny fumed. “This was my big move ! My ultimate grand romantic gesture !”

“And she shut the curtain,” Pennywise deadpanned.

Penny threw down the banner. “I refuse to accept this !”

Meanwhile, Mary Poppins sipped her tea, enjoying the satisfying sounds of a frustrated clown outside. She didn’t notice…but a small smile appeared on her face. She secretly enjoyed playing with the clown. She wondered what other completely phantasmagorical plan he would end up elaborating next to win her favours ?

———————————————————————

The next morning, Penny found a single note slipped under his door at the Neibolt house.

Your efforts are tiresome. Take up a respectable hobby. — M.P.

Penny let out an overdramatic groan and flopped onto the floor.

Pennywise smirked as he read it in turn. “Told you she wouldn’t fall for it.”

Penny scowled, gripping the note. “I’m gonna win over that woman even if it kills me !”

Penny was not easily discouraged. If anything, being thoroughly rejected only made him more eager to succeed. And so, he spent the next few days plotting. Clearly, grand gestures were too much for Mary Poppins. She was a lady of restraint. Perhaps he had been going about this all wrong.

This time, he would be subtle.

.

.

.

Mary Poppins awoke to find a single red balloon tied neatly to the handle of her umbrella. She stared at it. It bobbed innocently in the morning light. She reached forward, tapped it with one gloved finger—

POP.

A small card fluttered to the floor.

Thinking of you ! – P.

She sighed. That clown couldn’t take a hint. Not like she was going to keep that letter. No. That would be absurd. She thought before discreetly putting the letter in her bag. Later that day, she found a perfectly wrapped gift sitting on her windowsill. Inside was a hat. Not just any hat—a delightfully elegant, a beautiful pink hat, with a delicate ribbon and just the right tilt with lace. She turned it over, inspecting the label. Handwritten inside were the words: For my favorite prim and proper lady.

She sighed. How troublesome…She was still going to wear it because it was impolite to refuse a gift. But still. How troublesome…

That evening, as she walked through the park with Lily and Peter, Mary Poppins noticed something peculiar. A man sat on a nearby bench, reading a newspaper. He was dressed in a crisp grey suit, his polished shoes crossed neatly at the ankles. His red curls were slicked back, and he held himself with an air of composed elegance.

If she hadn’t known better, she might have thought him an ordinary gentleman enjoying the evening air.

But she did know better.

As they passed, he lowered the newspaper just enough to peek at her over the top. His yellow eyes gleamed.

Mary Poppins did not react.

But Lily whispered, “Who’s that ?”

“No one of importance,” Mary replied smoothly, guiding them along.

Behind them, the newspaper turned a page. “Lovely evening, isn’t it ?”

Mary did not stop walking.

Penny—because who else could it be—sighed dramatically. “Miss Poppins !”

She halted then turned.

Penny folded his newspaper with deliberate precision and tucked it under his arm. Then, he gave her a flawless bow.

“Good evening.”

Mary Poppins pursed her lips. “You’re behaving yourself.”

“I can be civilized, you know,” Penny said, straightening. He gestured to himself. “See ? No ruffles. No balloons. No fanged grins. Just a gentleman enjoying a stroll.”

Mary eyed him. “A gentleman.”

“Indeed !” Penny smiled pleasantly. “One who simply happened to find himself in the exact spot as you.”

Mary sighed. Did he really expect her to believe him ?

Peter, who had been listening with great interest, piped up, “Are you trying to court Miss Mary Poppins ?”

Lily gasped. “Is that why you sent the hat ?”

Penny beamed. “Smart children ! Yes, indeed ! I am engaged in a respectable pursuit of her affection !”

Mary Poppins pinched the bridge of her nose.

Peter frowned at Penny. “But you’re a clown.”

“Ah-ah !” Penny raised a gloved finger. “A distinguished clown !”

“A terrifying clown,” Lily corrected.

Penny pressed a hand over his heart, feigning deep offense. “I prefer enigmatic.”

Mary Poppins took a deep breath. “Children, run along and fetch your kite. I shall join you shortly.”

Peter hesitated. “But—”

“Now, if you please.” She insisted.

With only a slight grumble, the children hurried off. Mary Poppins then turned back to Penny, who was smiling widely in triumph.

“You will cease this foolishness immediately,” she told him categorically.

“But I’m courting you properly now !” Penny insisted. He gestured at his very proper attire. “Restraint ! Elegance ! Patience !”

“You are loitering.”

Penny gasped. “Loitering ?! My dear Mary, I am simply enjoying the scenic atmosphere !”

“You are lurking in the vicinity of my charges.”

Penny scoffed. “I haven’t eaten any of them !”

Mary Poppins fixed him with a look so sharp that even Penny felt a shiver of something unnatural crawl up his spine. A breeze stirred the air. Not his kind of breeze—hers.

“Listen well,” she said, quiet but firm. “I do not play games. I am not amused by antics, nor am I swayed by persistence. You may dress yourself in silk and manners, but you are still what you are.”

Penny’s grin twitched. And for just a moment, his true self flickered beneath the surface—the darkness, the hunger, the vast and endless void that stretched beyond mortal comprehension.

Mary Poppins did not flinch.

Penny did love a challenge. His grin returned, easy and bright.

“Then tell me, Mary Poppins,” he purred. “What does amuse you ?”

She adjusted her gloves. “The impossible.”

And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving Penny standing there, grinning widely. Penny stood motionless for a moment, watching as Mary Poppins strode away with her usual grace and precision. The words lingered in his mind, curling around his thoughts like smoke.

“The impossible.”

A slow menacing grin stretched across his face.

Oh, she shouldn’t have said that.

Because Penny loved the impossible.

⸻

The next morning, Mary Poppins found a book sitting on the front step of Number 17 Cherry Tree Lane. It was old, its cover worn with age, yet the gold lettering on the spine gleamed as if it had been freshly polished.

“An Examination of the Impossible: A Study of Wonders and Oddities”

She picked it up carefully. It had weight—not just physically, but something else, something unnatural. Flipping it open, she found a note tucked inside.

Thought you might enjoy some light reading. – P

She sighed.

Lily, peering over her shoulder, asked, “What is it ?”

“Nothing,” Mary replied smoothly, tucking the book beneath her arm.

She would deal with that later.

⸻

Later that evening, as the sun began to set, Mary Poppins set down her teacup and pulled the book from the shelf where she had hidden it. She had fully intended to toss it away—out of sight, out of mind—but curiosity, that pesky little thing, had won.

With a measured breath, she opened the book.

The first few pages were exactly what she expected: descriptions of peculiar occurrences throughout history, strange events that defied logic.

Then, midway through, the ink changed.

The neat, scholarly script gave way to a familiar scrawl.

Mary,

You intrigue me.

Most people run, scream, tremble—

But you ? You look at me like I am merely an inconvenience.

Tell me, Mary Poppins—what makes you so unshakable ?

I have cracked minds open like eggs, unraveled the fabric of reality itself. Yet here you stand, perfectly composed, as if you were fashioned from something beyond even my understanding.

Are you ?

Tell me, Mary Poppins—

What are you ?

She stared at the last words intently, her grip tightening on the book’s spine.

A presence stirred.

She didn’t look up.

“I should have known you’d turn to riddles,” she murmured.

From the corner of the room, Penny’s voice purred, “Oh, I do love a mystery.”

She finally lifted her gaze.

He was perched on the edge of her writing desk, cross-legged, looking entirely at ease. His form was still human—still dressed in that ridiculous gentlemanly suit—but his eyes glowed with something ancient.

“You are testing my patience,” she said.

“And you are testing mine,” Penny countered, tilting his head. “But I do so love a game.”

Mary Poppins closed the book with a soft snap.

“I do not play games.”

Penny grinned. “Ah, but you do.”

He leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand.

“You like this, don’t you ?” he mused. “Being pursued. Being wondered about.”

Mary Poppins exhaled slowly. “If you have nothing of importance to say—”

“Oh, but I do,” Penny interrupted. “You see, Mary, you and I—we are not so different.”

Mary Poppins arched a delicate brow at him. “Is that so ?”

“You are impossible,” Penny said, his grin stretching wider. “So am I. You love the impossible. Is there nothing more impossible than myself ?”

A breeze stirred the room—not his doing, hers again. A warning. Penny shivered with delight. She stood, smoothing down her skirts.

“You are persistent.”

“I am starving.” He shot back.

Their eyes met. A silent understanding passed between them—one neither could quite define.

Penny licked his lips. “What would happen, I wonder, if I truly tried to consume you ?”

Mary Poppins smiled. It was not a kind smile.

“I expect you would regret it.”

Penny laughed.

“Oh, Mary Poppins,” he sighed, shaking his head. “You do know how to keep a suitor entertained.”

She stepped toward him, unshaken.

“Then let me entertain you with one final warning,” she said softly. She leaned in, just close enough for him to see the storm behind her calm.

“If you ever endanger my children,” she murmured, “I will make you wish you were human.”

The air crackled.

For a creature as old as time itself, Penny really should have known better. But oh, he just couldn’t help himself. Mary Poppins—impossible, untouchable Mary Poppins—was standing so close, her breath steady, her expression unreadable. He could feel the storm in her, the crackle of something other beneath her poised exterior.

So, naturally, he did the worst possible thing.

He leaned in for a kiss.

A gentlemanly, oh-so-polite kiss—one that he fully expected to be met with a sigh, perhaps a brief but thrilling moment of hesitation before—

CRACK.

Pain exploded across his skull. His vision blurred as stars—actual stars—danced before his eyes. His body lurched backward, the force of the blow sending him clear across the room before he crashed into a bookshelf, toppling a collection of very expensive-looking tomes.

From his new position on the floor, he blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Mary Poppins stood over him, umbrella raised like a sword, her expression entirely unimpressed.

“Ohhh,” Penny wheezed, rubbing the side of his head. “Ow.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “What exactly were you attempting just now ?”

Penny, still sprawled on the floor, gave her his most charming, dazed grin. “I—oof—was trying to kiss you.”

Mary Poppins adjusted her gloves and frowned slightly. “A kiss ?”

“Yes.”

“You lunged at me.”

“I was leaning romantically.”

“You bared your teeth.”

Penny winced, rubbing his jaw. “…I may have smiled.”

She huffed. “You lunged at me while baring your teeth.”

He sighed. “…I see how that could be misinterpreted.”

Mary sighed in turn, shaking her head in disbelief. “Honestly.”

Penny groaned, sitting up with a dramatic sway. “I think you cracked my skull.”

��You deserve it.” Mary Poppins straightened, clearly having decided that he was no longer worth her time. “Perhaps next time, you’ll think twice before making such a foolish decision.”

Penny, to his credit, did think about it.

He thought about it a lot.

Then, rubbing his sore head, he grinned up at her.

“So you’re saying there will be a next time ?”

Mary Poppins turned on her heel and walked away. Penny watched her go, still grinning.

Oh, yes. She was FUN.

He could not wait to bring her down.

[mothraantics]

Crimson Born

Note: Ive had this idea for basically a few days and bunched the first chapter together, im honestly very proud of it and I hope that this will become better and better in the future :D

Summary:

Regulus was born a pureblood black prince. Second born heir and all he wasn't even close to being the talk of the town, His brother sirius, was first in line, with a whole crowd of young ladies ogling over him, but of course his dear brother had to swing the other way, escape the binds of their parents and be with a man. If the crowd didn't protest in his name Regulus would be the heir to the throne by now. He hated the world for that.

His cousins? Bellatrix, married a duke from another land and is having some unknown affair with whom they call these days the dark lord. Her sister, Narcissia is betrothed to Lucius malfoy and their other sister is missing. No doubt he was the last one to be thought of.

That was all until he decided that the crowd had to focus on him, become entranced with him, so he followed his brother and did one better, have an affair with the blood prince known as James potter.

Of course…with this he has to keep the blood curse hidden from his brand new boy toy.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57660256/chapters/146730271 - Find the book also on Ao3

Chapter One - Prince Regulus of Lissara

If life were not extravagant parties, and balls, banquets and fancy little get togethers, Regulus would have no clue how he would escape away from his family. Maybe some boarding school, but in another life he doubted if the magic of their world would even exist? A world where humans can wave silly little sticks and cast spells? It sounded preposterous, where would they find the phoenixes if it weren't for the hole of Vulca, or the unicorns tucked away in the forbidden forest, far off into the north.

He wouldn't have a clue where to start if their world was not this one, then again if it where he would be stuck living a pretty little life just like he was. Possibly. Banquets were his getaway, running off sitting in the gardens were his favourite pastime, he had done his entree a few hours prior and made some small talk with some noble families, but that's all he will try doing. It wasn't worth it, he wasn't the lead heir, his brother was and even so, he wasn't even  near the public eye, his cousin bellatrix married a man from the Lestrange Duchancy and she got her fame through dark power, his other cousin, Narcissia, is going down the same route as malfoy with their wedding on the horizon next spring.

Andromeda? She was still missing, and ran off with a peasant, a muggle. They weren't taught magic these days, peasants, they were too weak to harness magic, and so were the squibs of the noble families, although they can still have a taste of the ravish lifestyle and go off to marry an Earl. Muggles as they called them were just yellow trash to the aristocrats. There would be the lucky one that can harness magic and get adopted into society, but what did they know? They can't even see magic if you waive a wand in front of their eyes and cast serpensortia In Front of them. 

“Regulus?” the cold shrill yell of his mother's voice rang throughout the garden, there goes his peace. “Regulus! There you are!” She says as he picks himself up, her demeanour was cold, “yes mother?” He replies, dusting himself off, “Have you been out here? Mingling with the birds? Get inside we have yet to serve the cake”

Cake? What cake would they mention, Regulus didn't know any important event was happening. It wasn't a holiday or anniversary, nor was it someone's betrothal, and unlike his brother he's less keen on starting his own just yet, unless they started the arrangement process without him. Why would they need him to be there to serve the cake??

He was dragged away by Walburga, soon enough and as they neared the green hall she released him and he followed blindly. By this time he was thinking what had he missed? What family milestone had he missed?

“I'm so happy” Walburga said with venom, “finally it is fine for you to come of age my son” she gives him a half fake smile. “excuse me?” Regulus' stops in his tracks, “Mother I don't come of age until..June!” He points out, what was going on? She stops and looks back at him. “Regulus darling it is june, you are of age” the boy stopped, “oh”

Salazar's saggy balls, how could he forget?! If he was aware it was his 17th he would have stayed longer, made some small talk, against his will sure, but this was already a bad step towards society, the debate was soon, all those who turned 17 by the middle of the year and those who turn 18 of the last half of last year would debutante. His brother being one of them. 

Mabey the golden prince of the Black Empire will overshadow him enough that people won't care. Again. 

—

“-And a toast!-” 

The banquet was full that night, every sitting in their chairs they were brought out, the dark lord was speaking. He was a new upcoming figure in Lissara, many knew him as Lord Tom M. Riddle, the lord of the Parliament that buddied up with the nobles. In high noble society, the snake like-serpentine speaking man was known as Lord Voldermort.

“-To the two Black princes who are debuting with many of your children next week, and a very happy coming of age to the second born prince” 

The crowd clapped, it was filled with dark nobles, evil, corrupted. They kill peasants with a flick of their wrists using one of the curses,  some of the other nations called them death eaters. Herre it was a compliment, in other nations? It's immediately a death trial for you and your family. The world was fucked like that. Very fucked but who was to blame them? The biggest empire made of Purely magical individuals threatened to eradicate the lower class? The class that does all the work? Regulus' would be concerned as well. 

The ball went on throughout the night, with the nobles spinning around nobles. Firewhisky going down like it's water, and a whole new boring world for Regulus. “Something wrong brother?” Sirius asks slipping up near Regulus, “No, I'm okay”

“Is it too rowdy? You can request to go back up?” 

“And leave all of the guests to listen to you? You wish” he laughs as Sirius shrugs, “your loss”

—--

Shrill shrieks ran through the echoing halls. Regulus' cringed as another one rattled his windows. The ink from his quill splattered on his parchment reducing his now ruined homework to just ink, “fucking damnit” he cusses grabbing the paper and trying to dry it with no avail. 

“Useless being! Crucio!” 

Regulus' cringed as he heard those words being screeched from the other room. He sighed giving up, his potions essay can wait another day, the tutors weren't supposed to return till next week anyways. 

He heard the door next to him being slammed shut before his own door swung open, he jumped, Walburga stood at the door. Blood splattered on the hem of her white nightdress, “Rest dear, we have the debutante dinner tomorrow” she says before closing the door. Regulus sighs, he knows that this dinner wont be the usual dinner, just another political agreement, another death eater meeting being covered up, and another way for him to be overshadowed by his older brother.

Because every event he had to be overshadowed. If regulus was overshadowed he would be the second prince, but when theres the second prince there's a first, and that's his older brother Sirius.O Black the heir and now, from discoveries by a certain Bartemius Crouch Junior, that the same heir is with a man from the Crimson Court, a well known as Remus Lupin. 

Regulus sighed and blew out the candle as he sat on the floor, the room darkened as the red light of the moon shone through the window, in other rooms the screams of some family members could be heard, he himself was situated away from the red beams of moonlight, he stared at them, nextdoor he heard sirius shatter a glass nearby, he was probably left near the rays of the blood moon. 

They werent as common as full moons, but unlike the werewolves that roamed the forests and some in higher society, blood moons came in every shape or form, unless new, and they came every two months. Regulus took a sharp breath as he felt his body bubbling as the red streams of moonlight hit his bare feet, and then the night of agony begun.

[jedipoodoo]

Soldier in my Dreams (Sergeant Hunter & Daughter!OC)

Notes: nothing I write is ever beta read we die like tech (but not really). Father's day, dad batch. Hunter is married to my OC, Saachi, they adopted Omega and Jasper together, and had five children after that (one son, and a set of quadruplets). Nightmares, comfort, Hunter likes being a father more than he ever did a soldier.

Hunter woke as blasterfire echoed in the corners of his mind. The frizzing of droid poppers rang faintly in his ears as he looked around the room. Smaller than the bunks on Kamino, but bigger than the crew's quarters on the Marauder. The night was a dark blue, casting the room in a hyperspace-like glow, peaceful and serene

He wasn't a soldier anymore. He was home.

The bed stirred beside him. Saachi grunted in her sleep and turned on her side, arms tucked beneath her pillow. The strap of her nightdress had slipped over her shoulder in her sleep, so Hunter tucked it back into place and leaned down to brush a kiss against her cheek. Sleep settled back over her as her breathing evened out.

Hunter heard the pitter patter of tiny feet just outside the door to the room, so he stood to answer it before the creak could wake up his wife.

Standing there, with her beloved Lala the tooka in one arm and the other rubbing sleep from her eyes, stood Poppy. The youngest of his girls, and the second youngest overall. Hairs stuck out of her little braids at off angles, giving her a fuzzy halo as she frowned up at her dad.

"Where's Momma?" she demanded, unsatisfied by his appearance.

"She's fine, she's just sleeping." Hunter knelt in front of Poppy, trying to keep her from moving into the room, "What's up, sarad'ika?"

Poppy's bottom lip jutted out in a pout.

"Wan' Momma," She insisted.

But Hunter hadn't learned nothing from his time as a Sergeant. He knew plenty of redirection tactics.

"C'mere," he scooped Poppy up into his arms, Lala and all, "Let's take a look at your brothers and sisters now, huh?"

"Quinn's snoring!" Poppy complained loudly. Hunter reminded her to be quiet.

"Is that what woke you up, then?" He chuckled, closing the door to his room.

Poppy shook her head vehemently, "I had a nightmare."

"Oh," Hunter said, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Poppy shook her head again. She wrapped her arms around Lala's head tightly, and rested her head against Hunter's chest.

Sure enough, when they peeked into the girl's room, Quinn was snoring softly. Her own Tooka, Tutu, had fallen off the bed as she lay splayed over her sheets, so Hunter picked Tutu up and placed him in Quinn's arms again.

In the boy's room, Andi was sound asleep with his tooka, Pinkey, but Reed was missing from his bed. Hunter knew he couldn't have gone far, though. As he checked the older boy's bedroom, they found that Reed had crawled into Gray's bed again. Jasper was only pretending to be asleep, Hunter could see the faint glow of his datapad beneath his flimsy pillow.

"It's goodnight, Jaspa!" Poppy protested, pointing an accusing finger at her biggest brother.

"Shh," Hunter told her, hoping Reed and Gray would stay asleep. He tiptoed over to Jasper's bed. Jasper remained on his side, his back to Hunter, and too still to actually be asleep. Hunter slipped the datapad out from under Jasper's pillow and switched it off, tucking it in his back pocket.

"Good night, Jasper," He whispered, gently kissing his forehead. Jasper mumbled something unintelligible in return, muffled by a yawn.

The last bedroom, while the smallest of the rooms in the house, belonged to the oldest.

"You sleeping, 'Meega?" Poppy sounded almost disappointed.

Omega indeed was asleep, though like Jasper, her own datapad was not far out of reach. It had fallen on her face mid-message, and had typed out a random smattering of numbers and letters. Thankfully, it hadn't sent, but before Hunter could turn it off and set it back in the charging dock, he couldn't help but read a few of the messages. She was messaging Echo again. And Emerie, too. Hunter didn't know how much he trusted Emerie, but he trusted Echo, and Echo vouched for her.

Hunter's heart beat painfully in his chest. They were telling her about the Rebellion, the successes and the losses. He kept himself from reading anymore. Omega was growing up. She wasn't that innocent little child he met on Kamino anymore, she was allowed to grow up and make her own decisions, even if they might put her in danger.

Poppy leaned forward and almost fell out of Hunter's arms, reaching for Omega.

"Woah, Woah, Woah!" he hissed.

"But I wanna say goodnight!" Poppy pouted. Omega grunted, and rubbed her eyes.

"Hunter? Poppy, wha-?"

Hunter sighed, "Sorry, kid, Poppy had a bad dream, so she wanted to say goodnight. You can go back to sleep now."

Omega chuckled softly, and held out her arms, "It's alright."

Poppy launched herself into Omega's arms, knocking the wind from her lungs.

"Poppy," Hunter sighed again, running a hand over his face.

Poppy hugged Omega all the more tighter, "I love you, 'Meega."

Omega wrapped her arms around Poppy, "I love you too, ad'ika."

"Alright, you little womp rats," Hunter gently yanked Poppy out of reach from Omega so that he could give her a kiss good night, "Back to bed with both of you."

He managed to slip out of Omega's room and back into the hall before Poppy started to protest.

"Don't wanna," She insisted, "Wanna stay with 'Meega!"

"No, it's time for you to go back to your own bed, now."

"But Reed sleeps with Gray!" I wanna sleep with 'Meega!" Poppy said.

Hunter had to place a few fingers over her mouth, hushing her gently. When she was quiet again, he slowly removed his fingers. "You gotta go to bed, sarad'ika. Omega, and Momma, and everyone else is asleep now."

"Even ba'vod'u Tech?" She asked hopefully.

"Even ba'vod'u Tech," Hunter nodded, "He's tired. Papa's tired too. Aren't you tired?"

Poppy's fingers twisted tighter into the material of Hunter's shirt. He was afraid she might rip a hole in it.

"Scared." She whimpered at last, hiding ashamedly behind her tooka.

"Oh," you're scared," Hunter whispered in understanding, "From your nightmare?"

Poppy nodded.

Hunter's heart broke as he tilted his daughter's chin upwards so he could see her face. Her delicate eyes were wide with unshed tears, and her little bottom lip trembled. He would do anything if it meant any of his little ones would never feel the way that Poppy looked right now.

He sighed, and cradled her against his shoulder, "Come with me, you can sleep with me and Momma tonight."

She perked up at that. "Momma?"

"Shh," Hunter urged, "You have to be quiet. Remember, Momma's asleep now."

"I be quiet," Poppy said, and yawned promisingly.

Hunter brought her back into his room, where Saachi lay just as he had left her. He opened the window, letting in the soothing salt air and the calming sound of the distant waves wrap around them like a warm blanket. Poppy could barely lift her head from Hunter's shoulder.

"Papa?" She hummed as Hunter sat on his side of the bed.

"Yes, Poppy?" he asked. He paused, keeping Poppy against his shoulder so that he could listen to her tired, sleepy voice.

Poppy yawned again, and it nearly made Hunter yawn too.

"You keep me safe?" She asked.

Hunter smiled to himself and kissed her forehead. Not too many years ago, keeping his children safe would have required bloodshed and danger, along with almost certain death. But now, with the Clone Wars long behind them, and the Empire far from Pabu, safety meant things like watching so that they didn't fall off a rock, making sure they ate healthy, providing warm clothes during the colder months, and promising that the uncertainty of the night couldn't reach them.

He much preferred this fight.

"I will always keep you safe, sarad'ika." he whispered. Poppy's eyes fluttered closed, but hunter caught the glimpse of a satisfied smile as he lay her on the bed, nestled in between himself and Saachi.

He lay next to her, listening as Poppy's heartbeat slowed to keep time with Saachi's. His heart was slowing too, but he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes.

Poppy's arms flailed back and forth, which meant she was finally starting to settle down to sleep, but they also hit Saachi, just enough to nudge her awake.

"Mmm, nightmare?" she asked, rubbing one eye with her fingertip.

Hunter nodded, brushing Poppy's bangs from her eyes. her little eyelids twitched, as sleep claimed them, and Hunter prayed that she'd have better dreams now.

"Oh, sweet girl," Saachi sighed and kissed the back of Poppy's head, "Good thing you have your Papa to help you, huh?"

She took the elastic from the end of the braid that wasn't pinned beneath Poppy's head, and rebraided it. It was more of a habit than a necessity. Saachi loved being able to help their daughters with their hair, and both Quinn and Poppy loved how pretty the braids were.

Hunter sat up, just as the door opened with an ominous creak.

"I hadda bad dream," Andi said, rubbing at his eye with his fist.

Hunter tried not to sigh, and Saachi placed her hand on his arm.

"I got this one," she mouthed, nodding to Poppy. She met Andi at the door, scooping him up into her arms, and as Hunter finally let his eyes drift shut, he could hear Saachi humming a lullaby to their son.

[the-somewhat-rambling-reviewer]

Thoughts on Season 6, Episode 8, Exodus

And Lydia still wasn't killed. Sigh.

I did love most of June's speech. Rape is rape, and none of them deserved what was done to them.

I just didn't agree that Lydia knew better, and I was sort of on her side when she told June not to presume what was in her heart. Because, yeah, Lydia is a slut-shaming, rape-enabling, sadistic monster. She does, or did, I lean towards does, believe "her girls" deserved to be whipped, burnt, slapped, verbally humiliated, etc. She believed/believes them being raped, forced through pregnancy and birth, and having their babies stolen was all good in God's eyes.

One weird thing I've never gotten is how attached she became to Janine in later seasons. She tried to have Janine stoned. She cut out the tongue of the person who spoke out and convinced the others not to.

I loved Phoebe being fully ready to stab Lydia. Pity that guardian popped up to stop her.

I was surprised said guardian just let Lydia let them go.

Onto the wedding, I twitched at SJ's train on the floor. Why didn't she have someone carrying it?

This actually isn't anything against SJ. I twitch every time a bride on TV has a train on the floor.

For the things against SJ, she's still the same hypocritical, self-deluded person she always is.

Really, June could have been kinder?

June saved her from a fire. June helped deliver her baby. June even showed up after Immigration took her to prison. The one thing I still call what the hell to, pushing her baby out of a train, is the one thing she explicitly doesn't hold against June.

Whereas, she physically, verbally, psychologically, and emotionally abused June, raped June and Nick, raped pregnant June with Fred, kidnapped June's baby, kidnapped June, and then, made as if she were going to shoot June with a gun she knew was loaded. And I'm sure I've missed something.

I don't know why, but I really liked the shot of Nick helping a pregnant Rose walk to the pew and sit down.

Nick ordaining was weird.

I found it funny how Larry encouraged Naomi to have more cake. If it weren't Larry, I'd be concerned, but I fully believe he just wanted some peace once they got home.

At most, he's going to kill her, which I doubt, but is a possibility.

However, he won't sexually assault her. A low bar for men in this show, but it is what is.

I did like Wharton carrying SJ over the threshold.

I'm not sure how much I buy this conflict happening this early. Wharton was good at manipulating SJ. I kind of expected him to keep up the pretense just a little longer. He knew she'd react badly to a handmaid.

On another note, him being a high commander makes him somewhat exempt, but the rules of Gilead are: A married commander who hasn't been able to conceive with his wife for a certain amount of time can be eligible for a handmaid. Like Lydia started to protest last episode before she found out it was Janine, the horrible, now-dead commander and his wife just recently got married.

Was it Wharton at the end sleeping?

I could have sworn it was Nick, and I was wondering if June gave the order for him to be spared or not. But then, thinking about it, he and pregnant Rose wouldn't have a handmaid in their house unless, maybe, they were hosting a couple who had one or one just broke in.

So, I think it was Wharton, but it sure looked like Nick.

Thank you to everyone who read.

[somegirlontheinternet135]

Looking at old posts, I realized that I don't really post ocs anymore, maybe it's because of how many of them flopped, maybe it's how some were made in gacha club, I'll never know why. . . But that all changes today! I have created a whole batch of ocs just waiting to be posted, most of them I plan writing an actual original story for!! Unfortunately if I'd talk about them, we'd be here all day, so for now, we'll keep it simple!

Everyone. . . Meet Dandelion Cookie🌼✨

Everything you need to know about her is already in the images, but I'll happily explain some of the newer headcanons I thought up:

• She has a surprising amount of connections all across Earthbread due to being kinda a social butterfly & also helping cookies and their animal friends

• Her father had the dream of opening an animal sanctuary ever since Dandelion was a baby, and thanks to her, they're getting closer to achieving the goal!

• Remember the little cakehound that kicked off the entire story? Well it has a happy home within her father's clinic, and was promptly named Prince!(If you know you, you know) Alongside, there's always Sweetpea, a friendly cockatiel that loves to sing, a bunch of other inhabitants that live in the clinic

• Speaking of singing, Dandelion has an absolutely enchanting singing voice, and often sings to her little animal friends, as motivation or just to make them happy! And if she's really into it, she'll sing and accidentally start a flash mob(So yeah, her and TK would get along XD)

• She actually did go to Beast Yeast once(yeah, no joke-)

• Dandelion is a daddy's girl a hundred percent! Her mother is still very much in the picture, but the two aren't the closest, although Dandelion does like her enough to stay with her when she returns to the Creme Republic

• Dandelion's own dream is to make a better world for beasts, a world where animals & cookies can get along in peace. But right now she isn't too successful. . .

• If a cookie misses a planned vet date or multiple, Dandelion will go out of her way to scold them

• Dandelion Cookie has a mostly positive reputation in the Upper City of the Creme Republic, due to her cheerful & kind hearted nature, and for what she does. As for the Lower City, views are pretty mixed, some are quite fond of her while others find her annoying

• Dandelion's power of having all animals and beasts adore her isn't something she picked up overnight but rather a blessing that was passed throughout her family for generations. The only catch is that only one cookie from each generation can receive this ability at random. In this case, Dandelion's father passed down the ability to her!

• At the back of her hat, there's a blue gemstone broach, presented in a red ribbon. The broach is as old as her family and was given to anyone lucky enough to receive the blessing. Though, it is unknown how their family managed to get their hands on it, it's unknown to them as well. No one seemed to mind or notice it, but those who do always point out one thing. . . Its uncanny color resemblance to Pure Vanilla Cookie's souljam. . .

While writing Dandelion into both the og & Starlight Starbright, I might have accidentally written a love triangle with her & three canon characters(no joke-) So I'll explain:

Clotted Cream: Ever since meeting at 18, Clotted Cream always had the biggest crush on Dandelion. They were originally arranged to be married by House Custard, but that was quickly shut down by both Dandy's parents, to which Custard Cookie protested but failed miserably. Now as proper adults, the two have an amazing friendship, with Clotted visiting Dandy as much as possible. When she returns to the Creme Republic, he helps alongside her in her dad's vet clinic, Crumbs & Critters, usually helping clean or preparing meals for the animals, he never helps with the animals themselves due to fear but Dandy couldn't be more thankful! Of course, she's completely oblivious to Clotted Cream's true feelings, which causes a lot of self-doubt on his end. It leads him to question if he's good enough for her, especially after finding out about her previous crushes

Red Velvet: Speaking of that, when Red was still living with The Ancient Heroes, and way before Dandy was introduced to Clotted Cream, Red Velvet was Dandelion's first real crush. They met on accident as preteens; while exploring the Pure Vanilla Kingdom with her father, Dandy stumbled onto a herd of sheep, who all immediately surrounded her for pets once they found out she was there. As Dandy & her father desperately tried pulling her out of the cute yet very suffocating cuddle pile, in came Red Velvet to the rescue! pushing through the herd of sheep and used his cake arm to pull her out. They exchanged some introductions, and she'd been smitten with him ever since. During this time, everyone was sure the two would end up together, they had the same interests & goals, they supported & respected each other, the fact they spent so much time together, it's literally perfect! So, imagine everyone's surprise when Dandy's crush dissolved, allowing the two to stay friends. In adulthood, they're still best friends, helping & hanging out with each other whenever they can. Heck, Red is the reason she has the nickname "Dandy!" But despite them being super close as friends, some cookies can be a little jealous, Clotted Cream is no exception. He always felt self-conscious around Red Velvet, especially with Dandelion, and he kinda has every reason to (I mean c'mon, Red Velvet literally swept Dandelion off her feet, he's basically the guy she tells you not to worry about!) Thankfully, Red is aware of his feelings for Dandy, and tries to remind him that they're just close friends and nothing else, which does make him a bit better. . .

Butter Roll: If we go even further back in time, Dandelion actually knew Butter Roll of all cookies, well, not entirely. . . They briefly met as children & hardly talked after. Though, this didn't stop Butter Roll from gaining an interest in Dandelion, not a romantic or even a platonic one, just an interest, a curiosity if you will; Where did this ability even come from? How did her family come across it? And why has been in her family for generations? All questions Butter Roll wanted & was determined to know! From the vibes Dandy got from him as a child, she found him very unsettling & kept her distance, despite him always approaching her. Now, as adults, their conversations are quick & brief; neither are in the Creme Republic a lot due to work, but Butter Roll is usually the one that approaches her, asking her questions that make Dandy uncomfortable & disturbed. Unfortunately, Dandelion is much too polite to turn him down nor ask him to leave her alone, so she tries dodging the questions and keeps their "talks" short. . .

As for her other relationships, they're all fairly simple:

Financier: Her & Financier are quite fond of each other, not outright friends but they do get along, as they know each other quite well. Though, she does find herself talking for Clotted Cream to Dandy when he's too nervous to ask her something, which she kinda hates doing so is just honest with her. That's another thing, Financier is fully honest with Dandelion and tells her things for her own betterment, saying how she's much too polite, that she should toughen up and set boundaries, but Dandy unfortunately doesn't listen most of the time, or she tries to make excuses for it. . . All & all, they have a good relationship!

Wildberry: Despite not knowing Dandelion as well as Clotted Cream or Red Velvet, Wildberry is quite fond of her. What made Dandelion so interesting to him was her different connections, and the cookies she befriended across Earthbread; they relate to each other a lot, so they talk a bit about their jobs. Dandelion's stunning and often reckless bravery is always something that scares the heck out of him; How can anyone just walk up to wild beasts like that!? Regardless if it's her job or not! And Dandy's power just confuses him even more. Wildberry is one of the only cookies who questions her little quirk, but makes sure that she doesn't get upset; he views Dandelion as sweet & naive so keeping her safe & comfortable is a priority. Speaking of that, he's more than happy to shoo away creeps like Butter Roll away from her, which she's forever thankful for. Overall, the two have a very nice friendship!

Crunchy Chip: Chip presents himself as this strong, tough as nails, warrior, so it's not surprising that he found Dandelion annoying at first. It wasn't entirely the same on Dandy's end, she found his nature to be rather problematic, but nothing too bad. What made Chip turn the other cheek was Dandelion's extensive knowledge on beasts, especially creme wolves, and how to properly treat them; so, the first time Dandelion addressed Crunchy Chip's wolf as a "creme wolf," had him taken aback due to being to use to having to correct cookies. They both have a deep respect for each other's jobs, as they both work with animals, they too also share stories about their several experiences, giving each other helpful information as well. Dandy & her father are the only vets that Chip trusts with his wolves, which is a big honor on his end, a privilege which they Dandy & her father gladly accepted. Chip (in Starlight Starbright) throws a lot of parties once he's out of the mountains, and often tries to invite Dandelion to them as rewards, though her attending usually depends on how busy she is. And that's not the only way he tries to reward her either, usually providing her with money or protection from the Creme Wolves, which Dandelion tries to reject but almost always fails miserably. Although they didn't start off in the best of ways, they made for a pretty nice friendship!

(Bonus Headcanon: Wild & Chip are very aware of Clotted Cream's crush on Dandelion, and try to be his wingmen. With Wildberry actually giving him good advice, and Crunchy Chip. . . Not so much. Financier is also aware, but does want to be involved, and thinks the others shouldn't be either. . . But can't do much about it)

Gingerbrave: This brave little lad has always been willing to help anyone he meets & is just a joy to be around, which can be perfectly said with Dandelion! Like Clotted Cream, Gingerbrave tries to help Dandy & her father at the clinic as much as he can, mostly from the kindness of his heart. He even helps with the animals! Though he can't help but recognize a few of them from his travels. Dandelion & her father are of course forever grateful for any help with the clinic, but despite that, their relationship hasn't really become more than that, just Gingerbrave being his helpful self & Dandy being thankful, mostly due to them both being busy. And they're ok with that for the most part

Custard III: Clotted Cream mostly keeps his visits to Crumbs & Critters a secret, and for good reasons too, one of them being Custard Cookie III's constant insisting to come along, to which he's always forced to say yes. As many children his age are, he's quite pushy with the animals in the clinic, not respecting space or boundaries. His ego also doesn't help, as he believes he's the greatest animal tamer in the lands & gets upset when they don't listen to him. Of course, it causes a lot of embarrassment of Clotted Cream's end, and frantically tries to apologize to Dandelion for his nephew's ignorance, which fortunately she fully understands. She's very patient with kids, and Custard Cookie III is no exception, so she usually teaches him proper etiquette around the animals. Alongside his ego, like most children, Little Custard is filled questions on the critters, their behaviors, and much more, question which Dandelion are more than happy to answer. Custard Cookie III has no idea why his uncle enjoys being in Crumbs & Critters so much, nor why he likes being with Dandy so much, all he does know is that it makes him happy, so why question it?

Pure Vanilla: Since Red Velvet & Dandelion basically meant through the Pure Vanilla Kingdom, so it'd only makes sense that they have a good relationship. Whenever she visits the Pure Vanilla Kingdom, it is almost always animal-related, as she often helps Pure Vanilla with animal check-ups. Other than that, the two are often seen feeding the birds, or taking strolls to the royal garden, talking about life. Pure Vanilla sometimes talks about his desire to visit Crumbs & Critters, and Dandy always tells him every time he's completely free to visit when he's able to, which always makes him happy. To cut things short, they went from work-based, to a more grandfather & granddaughter relationship. . . Which is both perfectly ironic & sad✨

Hollyberry: Likes with everyone, Holly welcomed Dandelion with open arms! And for good reasons too. Admittedly, Dandelion was a bit overwhelmed by Hollyberry but got around to it. Hollyberry knew she'd like Dandy the second they met, from the passion towards her job, to her undying bravery when helping wild beasts in need, and the fact she was good friends with two of her sons, so it was perfect. Like Crunchy Chip, she regularly rewards Dandy for her ventures, mostly through giving her barrels of berry juice, parties, and many other gifts, which Dandelion always tries to decline. Till Holly offered her & her father something they could refuse. . . Hollyberry gave them full permission to build their animal sanctuary in her kingdom, even land to build it on, which made them overwhelmed with gratitude, and try to pay her back; which Holly more than happily declines, she is helping a friend

Pitaya Dragon: Yeah, against all odds, Dandelion is weirdly close to Pitaya Dragon Cookie(aka The Red Dragon) How!? well let me explain. . . Dandy's relationship with Pitaya is a little bit complicated, as her extensive knowledge wasn't what got them interested; cause dragons don't care about knowledge, you silly goose! It was Dandy's ability that got them curious. How so many animals can be drawn to one cookie is something they wanna know, but instead of actually asking, they observe, watching Dandy help creatures from a distance. Other than that, Pitaya Dragon does have the habit of teasing her, as they do with all cookies; ever since the two met, they're always belittling and condescending towards Dandy, calling her "a weak & simple cookie," and regularly makes fun of her job, calling it pointless. And despite all of this, Dandelion is nothing but kind & sweet to the Red Dragon, cause trust her, she knows better than to let comments like that get to her! It's only when Pitaya got sick themselves & Dandy rushed to help them, did they realize just how important & impactful her job is; but knowing Pitaya, they refuse to admit it. Now, the two are kinda in a weird patch, creating this one-sided frenemies type relationship where Pitaya tries getting under Dandy's dough, and Dandelion still being as nice as ever!

Dark Cacao: At first, Dark Cacao didn't really know what to feel about Dandelion, and pretty much wanted to dismiss her right off the bat; she was from the Creme Republic after all. . . It was only her relationship with two of his sons, did he let her stick around. Unlike most of the Ancient Heroes, Dark Cacao was kinda taken back by her politeness, immediately not trusting her because of it. He even sent some of his watchers to look after her, and was pretty baffled & surprised they had nothing to report, in fact only praising her & her ability. Upon realizing King Dark Cacao's distaste for her, Dandy tried everything in her power to get him to trust her, through all she did & knew, in attempts to impress him, but they always fell flat. One day, Dandelion was finally able to earn King Dark Cacao's trust when helping him deal an infestation of smaller creatures "invading the kingdom." Nowadays, their relationship is in the middle; not the worst or the greatest, Dark Cacao developed a sort of "Let em cook" mentality when having Dandelion deal with animal-related problems in his kingdom, while Dandelion is always happy to help; Dark Cacao's even completely willing to do favor or two for her. Overall, despite starting out rough, they're in no way close, but they get along!

And that's all I made! Dandelion's an oc I've been cooking up in my brain for awhile now, so she has a lot of lore! Including some other things I left out. . . Since I'm on summer vacation now, I have the full opportunity to make a pt.2! I hope you love her as much as I do! 💞💖✨

💫For now, be on the lookout for my other projects

🌼✨And as always, stay tuned^^!✨🌼

[fantasyroyalfamily]

The Sims 4: The Little Mermaid Part 2

Ursula bumped into Ariel and at that instant knew who she was. Ariel was her only link to her sister, Athena, as she had been searching for her ever since their father died. Ursula decided to help Ariel and investigate what had happened to her.

Queen Regent Gayla and a mystery man, known as Prince Eric, argued because Gayla wanted Eric to marry a royal princess. However, Eric begged his mother to give him a chance to find the woman who saved him and marry her. After some protest, his mother caved in and allowed the search.

Ariel was unable to speak, and Prince Eric was unaware of her condition. Despite her muteness, Ariel provided comfort to Eric, and he was glad to find a friend in her. He promised to find a solution to her muteness. At the same time, Ursula was searching for answers to help Ariel in her endeavors.

Nine months have passed, and still no true love's kiss. Ariel is scared that her deadline is almost up. One day, Prince Eric arrived from his tour of the kingdom and went to his mother, stating that he found the woman who saved him. Unbeknownst to his mother, he was under a spell forcing him to listen to the commands of this mystery woman. Ariel was distraught and upset. She left, bumping into Ursula from her journey, and it was there that Ursula confessed who she was and that she knows who was behind Ariel's second curse.

Ursula was able to defeat the mysterious woman with her magic and obtain a confession that Ursula's mother, Carina, was behind everything because she wanted the throne for her daughter. Ursula attempted to restrain the woman, but she was able to escape."

Ursula united Prince Eric and Princess Ariel, and they had their true love's kiss, breaking both curses. Ursula explained Ariel's origin, the curses, Lady Carina, and the events that occurred. Ariel forgave Ursula, but Ursula received the bad news that Athena and her other nieces were lost.

Ariel went to the ocean to inform her father of everything. At first, he was upset, but then overjoyed that the curse placed on him and his family was broken.

Prince Eric and Ursula bowed to King Triton out of respect, and King Triton agreed to the union of Prince Eric and Princess Ariel to unite the kingdom and bring about peace.

5 years later, Arial and Prince Eric got married at the age of 20. Nine months later, she was due to give birth to their first child. However, unexpected news reached the palace.

Princess Arial's maternal grandfather, Duke Gael Tolman, approached her with troubling news. He informed her that Lady Carina, Ursula mother, was expecting a child after a relationship with Arial's uncle. This revelation deeply upset Princess Arial and Prince Eric, who is now the King and Queen. In order to maintain peace within the royal family, Duke Tolman suggested that the children of Arial and Carina should be wed in marriage. In return, Carina would disclose the whereabouts of Arial's missing sisters and mother, of whom Carina was aware. Arial had no other choice but to accept the arrangement in order to finally locate her missing family. Both King Triton and King Eric agreed to this proposal.

A month later, Queen Arial gave birth to her daughter Melody.

Carina gave to her son Lord Leo.

Will this be a happy union or will it cause more chaos in the family?

Will Arial find her sisters alive or in unhappy situcation?

Will be see in the future! To Be continue.

[myriadparacosm]

Queer and Trans Rights, aspiring writer and love to chat! Feel free to talk about anything as long as you're respectful!

Just call me Myriad ; my ao3

I like to post headcanons randomly, no favourite characters or ships just whatever comes to my mind but I would love to chat and exchange about them!

Writings (yes, I have a lot of stories, sorry)

Black Beats Black - WOLFSTAR; Jegulus; Rosekiller; Dorlene; maybe more. Hanahaki Disease; Aftermath of the Prank; Canon Divergence.

Sirius have brought this fate upon himself: dying with his unrequited love after destroying said-love. He has made peace with it but would have never thought his brother would never accept it. Regulus will go as far as recuring to old curses and traditions of purebloods to salvage some time even if it means getting married to share the Hanahaki between the two of them.

1. Blackthorn2. Lotus3. Butterfly Weed4. Dentelle de la Reine Anne5. Balloon Flower6. Astrantia7. Ambrosia8. Sweet Alyssum9. Blazing Star10. Blue Star

Werewolves and their fortitude, by Sirius Black - WOLFSTAR; Sunseeker (Enemies to Lovers); Roserkiller; Dorlene; ... Aftermath of the Prank; Sirius has a daughter; Werewolves studies; First Wizarding War

Sirius Black never comes back after the Prank. He is declared dead, buried and mourned with no official protest. Remus doesn't quite know how to live without him as he fights in a war that worns him out. Sent to look for werewolves at Dumbledore's demand, forcing Moony to be of use when he is only a monster, but at least he is with his friends. Even when there is a seat, always left cold, for Sirius. That is until he stumbles on a werewolf's sanctuary, finding Sirius 4 years later with a small werewolf daughter. Meanwhile Sirius is eaten by guilt and heartbreak, finding his path in bringing more rights to werewolves by studying them. Thankfully, he fools himself by slipping in magical paintings to meet a homemade Remus Lupin that will hold him at his worst.

1. Werewolves remember everything 2. Werewolves are not monsters 3. Werewolves build a family 4. Werewolves were children 5. Werewolves are afraid

Twilight Princes - WOLFSTAR; Sunseeker (Enemies to Lovers); Roserkiller; Dorlene; ... Based on TLOZ Twilight Princess; Remus as Link; Sirius as Midna; James as Zelda; ...

1. The first travel

To be continued:

Enchanté - Jegulus; Wolfstar; Rosekiller; Dorlene; Marylily. Destroying the Government; Sirius and Regulus never went to Hogwarts; Canon Divergence.

REGULUS BLACK ABDUCTED BY HIS OWN BROTHER? The Noble and Most Ancient Black family just revealed that their only heir, Regulus Black, at 23 years old, has gone missing in the middle of the night on September 27th and accuses their estranged first son, who has come back from the dead, of the crime and offers a major bounty for his head. Sirius Black spent his life in France before running away from school after multiple misbehaviours and is now speculated of taking revenge, of his own failures, on his little brother who is the pride of powerful Black family.

I. Paint Me in a Portrait Sans the Fig Leaves II. Of Our Animal Skins III. Every Myth To Crack Its Lips

[leffee]

As promised the vinnie’s Mom’s

A key for you to look at

Mom- is good but also corrupted and complicated

Mama- is horrible and only cares for herself

Vinnie grew up with these two moms he calls them mom and mama let’s start from the beginning though shall we. mom and mama were in love totally obsessed with each other the picture perfect couple the spent the next few years moving in together getting married but there was one thing missing a child. Mom really wanted a child of her own something she could poor her love into she wanted the perfect male doner to help that happen she wanted mama involved. But mama wanted none of that and like every picture perfect relationship there were cracks forming to break it apart. You see mama had over the years formed some habits involving drugs,alcohol, partying and worst of all cheating and a bad attitude to go with it. But his mom tried her best to keep her picture perfect relationship from falling apart she had to stay in it she had to fix it a baby is definitely going to fix it. So she got a doner got pregnant and did her best to coap with her situation..during that time mama just ignored it as if it had nothing to do with her. Once Vinnie was born his mom was elated she spent all her time and love on her new pride and joy it made mama jealous and resentful toward him. Vinnie’s life was good as long as mom was around up until he turned 12.. he started to notice that mama was taking his mom out more he’d see her less she started acting much weirder then usual. Little did Vinnie know that while he was growing up his mom was mentally going down hill and that gave mama prime opportunity to manipulate her into her life style to show her that drugs will make her feel better and she wouldn’t suggest it if she didn’t loved her right? Over the years mama would have her way.. vinnie ultimately started to take care of himself and would often not see his parents for days at a time. He tried his hardest to talk to them to try and fix things but ultimately mama would verbally, or physically abuse him if she stood in her way in any way shape or form. As for mom she mentally checked out and fell into a depression she became nothing but a door mat a shell of a person and even though she loved her son she didn’t do anything to change the situation because or her fears and addictions. Vinnie would often come to school upset,late,tired his friends noticed the change. Sunil was the only who really knew what was going on because Vinnie could trust him he didn’t want to be taken away.. Sunil kept his word and promised not to say anything as long as Vinnie spent more nights at his house so he knows that he’s safe and that he calls or comes over if he needs him for any reason which Vinnie did do on occasion showing up and tapping on sunils window for a night of peace or help to study. One day after returning home from sunils house vinnie noticed that mom was gone her stuff was to when he asked mama she cussed him out and told him to get out her sight. He never saw her again and was told many different things when asking about her disappearance by mama“she left because of you” was the one she repeated the most with killed Vinnie every time he heard it. Eventually Vinnie just stopped coming home doing everything he could to avoid it and staying full time with Sunil and his parents though graduation. Sunil and Vinnie stayed dating and moved on with life momma ended up on the street because of her choices Vinnie sees her from time to time her still tries to have a relationship with her despite the protest of his boyfriend and friends urging him not to and every time they see each other he gets upset with the visit because she takes the opportunity to tell him how much he ruined her life and that it’s his fault their family is broken and how he couldn’t help her out because he thinks he’s better then her now it happens less and less nowadays. As for mom Vinnie still thinks that she’s out there and has tried to look her up.he still loves her but would find it hard to forgive her for leaving him so easily.

What Vinnie doesn’t know is that she left to better herself. She knew she wasn’t getting better and wouldn’t be able to say goodbye. She disappeared and wanted nothing to do with mama. She hoped that she would find her son again one day and have a better relationship that didn’t involve addiction and abuse.

All right, so that’s basically a gist of how I see them Basically I’d hoped that in one scenario his mom would find him again and they worked towards a relationship as her mama she is in and out of his life constantly being a bother in and out of jail, but he still can’t seem to give up on her himself just as his mom had been trying to do trying to get her to go to treatment trying to have a relationship with the only mother he thinks he has left, even though she wants nothing to do with him unless it involves anything that would benefit her

Also I had Vanessa as one of the names of his mothers. I couldn’t think of another though Cannon wise. Which is where the V and Vinnie came from and the fact that his mom was Italian and taught him both languages growing up.

Sorry if there’s any errors or inconsistencies, let me know if you have any more questions and I can elaborate more. This is just again the gist of it and I was just continuously typing. 

Time for me to answer thisss and give others who maybe would like that, a chance to see it, I sure know I do like it :3

Ok, so I know it's not the most important thing, but I can't help but notice that part that his moms were at the beginning totally obsessed with each other. Cause that would connect nicely with my Vinnie and his obsessivness with people he likes 🤭 anywayyy

So Vinnie was basically a "fix-it" baby, huh? Born to (in part) ensure his moms' relationship survived, at least mom really wanted him, for some good reasons too. It's something. I mean, she took care of him, eepie!

But then mama manipulated mom into this toxic lifestyle, I see I see. I imagine the reason why mom's mental health started going downhill in the first place was because of mama, but then mama gave her a "solution". Well, some sort of it.

And that part about Vinnie eventually having to take care of himself, yes yes, that's the way I see it too. Because like, being a child esentially he of course had no idea how to properly take care of himself, he tried his best but couldn't really accomplish everything on his own and that left him with some weird habits, like in my Vinnie's case searching for food in trash cans and being ok with eating it. I mean, if they weren't home for days sometimes he did what he had to, right?

And Vinnie abuse gooood, I mean bad, but good :3. Just too bad that his one good parent wasn't there to protect him, I mean good for angst factor but you know.

"Vinnie would often come to school upset,late,tired his friends noticed the change" okay okay, but I imagine on top of that he also came kinda neglected, I mean hungry, dirty clothes etc etc. Cause like, mama obviously didn't care about him much (or rather at all) and mom was depressed. So yeah, just something I wanted to add as a bonus. And and then during lunch he would just devour the food, because he would eat what he could take and lunch food is much better than trash food.

But that part of Sunil's house basically being his safe heaven is probably my favourite. Cause yeees, that's how I see it too and that's why Vinnie holds Sunil in such high regards, because he basically saved him from a lot of torment. Heehehe yes, I love it.

And then, mom was gone, his mostly non-abusive parent, one that genuinely loved him even if she didn't show it well. I can only imagine how upset he was when he realized she wasn't coming back. And so of course he started spending more and more time at Sunil's house, more than before that is with him and his parents. Oh, and of course the blaming him stuff, that's great too, he must have felt so guilty on top of everything else. The mental anguish with this one is just👌👌👌. And then of course that continues even once she's on the street, because by that point all she has is tormenting her son, doesn't she? But he's a good boy of course, so despite everything he tries to keep some sort of good relationship with her, even though she did nothing to deserve him being good to her.

I do like that mom was a good person at the end of the day though, then again how could Vinnie guess that she left to better herself. In the end, she still left him with a very abusive person. A person that also kept dragging him down even later in his life, ah, but he's just too good of a person even if mama abused him, so as I imagine he's very torn. Because he knows that she's bad for him in every possible sense, but at the same time she is his parent, you know?

A! Vanessa! At first I was very confused bc maybe you remember but Vanessa was one of two names I wanted to give his sister, but ultimately she shall remain as Stephanie, I just wanted to say that.

I know it took me a while to reply to that but as always, I do looove it. Everything about it, mostly the whole Vinnie angst which I suppose is the gist of it. Thank you for that and hopefully you like my reply too