#finally getting around to posting it 😭😭

[prettybiching]

Helloooooooo my love. First of all, happy new year! (although it's coming a week late, sorry about that) I hope this year is filled with love and joy for you!!

Secondly, piggybacking off your last reblog, yes desi weddings are so elaborate ahhh!!! I loved the whole experience despite how exhausting and stressful it was as the sister of the bride. there's pre-wedding events, a week long wedding and then the post-wedding events so yeah nearly two months of dedicated wedding festivities lmfao but it was SOOO fun and I'm moving overseas in a few weeks so I definitely had a winter for the books.

NOWWWWWWW, I'm going to be honest, I couldn't help myself and I gave myself some sneak peeks from all the chapters uploaded because every time I get the notification I get SO excited and lemme just say - YOU COOKED AND I HAVE MASSIVE THOUGHTS

You thought you finally found Daemon when you heard Caraxes was in the dragon pit, and so you run there, run, much to the protest of Arryk, who was hot on your heels. He managed to convince you to slow down by telling you that you would eventually get to the dragon pit if you walked, but you would never get there if you pass out.

Oh god, breaking my heart already. Daemon, I can't stand you at times ughhhhhh. What will it take for my poor girl to not have to beg for someone to love her and be considerate to her.

You nod, placing a hand on your chest. You do a walking motion with your fingers towards Caraxes.

This is either going to end horribly or wonderfully and I don't know how to feel about either.

...while he is distracted from trying to figure out what you were doing, you circle behind your knight and sneak past both, making a beeline towards Caraxes.

GIRL NO!!!!!!!!!

PLEASE STOP TRYING TO KILL YOURSELF EVERY OTHER CHAPTER FOR THE SAKE OF MY WELLBEING

Amidst the peril of it all, you are calm as you look up at Daemon's companion. It stems from the truth that it would be far less complicated and less painful to be eaten by a dragon than to tell your husband you are with child and deliver it.

And there goes my heart again...I'm so mad at Daemon and the chapter has only just begun. I can't get over just how scared she is of telling Daemon about the baby because he will probably accuse her of incest (which would be so fucking ironic HAH) even though deep down he knows she never did any of that he's just emotionally constipated AS HELL. Even Caraxes is going to be done with his ass

In truth, you think your heart might be impaired, because it doesn't race at all as the beast seemingly imposes upon you. He cannot seem to stop pacing around you, as if he was restless, anxious even.

Alexa play "I Think He Knows" by Taylor Swift

You feel bad, for it seems... you've upset him, "apologies... I was hoping you'd eat me."

😭😭😭 STOPPPPP PLEASE SPARE ME

"HEY!" Arryk screams, thinking he can distract Caraxes. He can't, and he is losing his mind. Hoes not know what to do but to shout your name in terror. He can't help but draw his sword and immediately the dragon keeper is yelling something, motioning that he stop.

Help, I know this is a deeply serious moment but I can't help but laugh at the fact that Arryk whipped out his sword to defend himself against CARAXES

"Gods be good," you mumble as you gaze upon the creatures scales, "you can smell him, can't you? Daemon?"

OH MY GOD CARAXES CAN SENSE DAEMONS BABY IN HER TUMMY WE'VE GOT MEDIEVAL DNA TEST SOMEBODY GET DAEMON HERE

"It would have been better if you made me a snack," you mumble against him, feeling your tears drip.

caraxes and reader's bestie arc better start NOW

"He shoved her back and she fell!" he explains, "that's why her nose is bloody."

Oh my god Arryk stop tattling on my boy Caraxes like that. He was just trying to show some affection and protectiveness!!! It's not his fault that years of bonding with daemon also turned him a little dense and emotionally constipated like his master

"Perhaps she might get strong enough to grant you a child," he clenches his jaw, "maybe once the gods have granted you a boy or girl, you will understand my grief." Viserys motions with a nod, "you are to return to your lady wife with no quarrel. Take him out of my sight."

The way I 100% believe that the foundation of the brothers' relationship is that daemon will ALWAYS do the exact opposite of viserys tells him so the fact that he told daemon to return to his lady wife, it will lead him to run as far away from her as possible (aka stepstones)

Daemon seals you into an embrace and the warmth of his body quickly seeps onto your much colder one. A shiver runs down your spine. You immediately wrap your arms around him and nuzzle your face into his chest. He mimics you, brushing his cheek against your hair, taking in the faint smell of citrus. He remembers what his brother said and repeats it, "ñuha mijegindita ābrazȳrys." My poor wife.

THIS SCENE MAKES ME WANT TO CRADLE MY HEAD IN MY HANDS AND WEEP BECAUSE WHAT THEY COULDVE BEEN IF DAEMON WASNT SO DENSE AND THICK AND STUPID AND UGHHHHHHH

Daemon sighs, "he must have smelled me on you and got excited."

you're so stupid

The voice of his brother rings in his mind. Do you carry such low regard of him just as he? "Why can't it be me?" he snaps, "you think I will be of no help?"

Daemon "I can never comprehend someone being genuinely concerned for me because I never had a mother, I don't remember my father's love and my brother was an even bigger emotionally constipated idiot who can't show me love so I'm going to mistake your love for you doubting my capabilities" targaryen

You cut him off by reaching for his legs. He is frozen in place as you embrace him from where you knelt on the floor.

This is so tragic I've started crying again...

Cannot leave you? He does not like the way you imply he would be unable to if he wanted. Daemon watches you as you slowly bring yourself up to a stand. He does not help you as you pull yourself up using his legs and waist.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I NEED THIS FUCKER TO RECEIVE THERAPY FROM BRAAVOS OR WHATEVER BECAUSE HIS UNRESOLVED CHILDHOOD TRAUMA AND THE LACK OF PARENTAL LOVE HE RECEIVED IS GOING TO DESTROY THE MC AND I CANNOT STAND FOR IT I WILL DIE

"because I love you."

and im dead. im gone.

"you are mistaken."

"I love you" "It'll pass"

"I do not feel the same," he mutters.

FUCK YOU FUCK THE WHOLE TSRGARYEN DYNASTY YOU FILTHY LYING WHORE OF A DRAGON RIDER GO FUCK MYSARIA IN A WIG AND CALL OUT YOUR WIFES NAME AND TELL HER YOU WANT HER BECAUSE YOURE TOO SCARED TO SAY IT TO YOUR WIFE AND GO TO THE SHITTY STEPSTONES SURROUNDED BY NOTHING BUT UGLY LOOKING PIRATES FOR THREE WHOLE YEARS WITH SHITTY FOOD AND SHITTY WINE KJHGRRYVHBEBN LTLV

You nod, "I know."

Author, did you reach inside my brain and find the worst ways to hurt me? BECAUSE THIS HURTS OKAY

BUT IT ALSO FEELS SO GOOD??? WHYS THE ANGST YOU WRITE SO FUCKING GOOD??? IM IN LITERAL TEARS OVER THESE TWO, THE WAY DAEMON MADE HER BEG FOR HIM TO STAY AND IT WAS STILL NOT ENOUGH THE PARALLELS OF HER SAYING IT NEVER SERVES HER WELL ASKING SOMEONE TO STAY

If you're wondering how I'm doing at the end of this, then imagine this - IM IN TEARS and contemplating my existence. But I cannot atop praising you for how GOOD this chapter was. It hit right the spot. Thank youuuuu for yet another masterpiece <3

Tormented Spirit | 10

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: GUYS ITS STILL TOO FUCKING LONG I HAD TO CUT IT AGAIN T_T blah blah canon stuff/high valyrian inaccurate blah. please please leave comments/reblogs because they really help me with the fic. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Daemon does not come home to you that night. When you awaken, you feel sick to your stomach. The thought of food repulsive though, so you spend the morning looking for your husband, until your body betrays you and feels sick because of not having eaten. You realize that your state is not borne simply from worrying about the prince, but probably also because of this supposed life you carried within you.

You try to deny it though, chalking it up to your mind playing tricks on you. After all, it's laughable that you suddenly experienced these symptoms just after all the fuss of learning you were with child.

You thought you finally found Daemon when you heard Caraxes was in the dragon pit, and so you run there, run, much to the protest of Arryk, who was hot on your heels. He managed to convince you to slow down by telling you that you would eventually get to the dragon pit if you walked, but you would never get there if you pass out.

You'd never been so happy to see the blood wyrm.

"Daemon?" you call out, searching for him.

Caraxes is busy feasting on meat and Arryk is busy watching him, body tense and senses on high alert.

The dragon keeper comes to you, shaking his head, "se dārilaros iksis daor kesīr dombo." The prince is not here anymore.

You understood nothing, save dārilaros, which you knew meant prince, and figure he's probably telling you he is not here, which you could gather from simple observation.

You turn to Caraxes and point, "zaldrīzes." Dragon.

The man brightens, as he understands, "Caraxes."

You nod, placing a hand on your chest. You do a walking motion with your fingers towards Caraxes.

His eyes widen and he shakes his head and hands.

You clench your jaw and turn to Caraxes, nodding your head in understanding.

The dragon keeper relaxes.

He mistakes you.

"Arryk," you turn to your ward, "can you come here please?"

Arryk's eyes linger on the dragon a moment before turning to you. You settle him in front of the dragon keeper, and while he is distracted from trying to figure out what you were doing, you circle behind your knight and sneak past both, making a beeline towards Caraxes.

The dragon notices you immediately and watches you near. He lifts his head and sniffs the air, and only then do the two men realize what's happening.

"PRINCESS!" Arryk shouts, sprinting towards you before coming to an abrupt stop.

Enraged, Caraxes cranes his long neck, roaring at Arryk, making him topple back on his bum.

The dragon keeper screams a command and raises his hands.

Amidst the peril of it all, you are calm as you look up at Daemon's companion. It stems from the truth that it would be far less complicated and less painful to be eaten by a dragon than to tell your husband you are with child and deliver it.

The red creature screeches as snaps his teeth at the two men, causing his keeper to step back and Arryk to crawl back with him.

Caraxes then averts his attention, shaking his head as he circles around you, effectively blocking the two from seeing anything other than his massive, scaly body.

In truth, you think your heart might be impaired, because it doesn't race at all as the beast seemingly imposes upon you. He cannot seem to stop pacing around you, as if he was restless, anxious even.

Your face contorts at the bleating sound it makes. He lowers his head slightly inhaling and exhaling deeply. He makes another noise and you swear to yourself, the creature looks like he's fidgeting.

You feel bad, for it seems... you've upset him, "apologies... I was hoping you'd eat me."

Caraxes screams loudly again when he spots two other dragon keepers come to you from the other side. He threatens them with a snap of his teeth.

"Daor!" they scream in unison. No.

Caraxes seethes and screeches, as if saying, 'do not tell me what to do'.

He circles around you again, and this time, he shoves you forward with his wing. You yelp as you are knocked to the ground with a thud. You manage to brace yourself, grazing your hands as you did, but your chest still hurts at the impact.

The keepers scream in horror because of this, fearing that you would soon be eaten.

"HEY!" Arryk screams, thinking he can distract Caraxes. He can't, and he is losing his mind. Hoes not know what to do but to shout your name in terror. He can't help but draw his sword and immediately the dragon keeper is yelling something, motioning that he stop.

You whine as you roll on your side. Caraxes growls as he bites your arm. The fear finally sets in as he does this, and his powerful maw pulls you up to sitting position.

The dragon keeper, who ran to retrieve you, shrieks out upon witnessing this.

You gasp when Caraxes roars back, and you squeal when his wing comes over you. The strangest thing occurs to you in that moment, and your heart finally begins to race— not because it sinks in how much danger you were in, but because, suddenly, you knew you were not.

You come to a stand, and with no regard for your safety, you reach out for the dragon's skin, somehow shocked by how warm and hard it is. "Caraxes."

He hears you, though you barely raised your voice. He is sensitive to the sound of his name. Caraxes moves back, pulling away enough to be able to coil his neck and look at you.

The dragon keepers, who were so on edge, altogether fall silent when they see you in the midst of the blood wrym.

Arryk nearly broke into a other sprint upon finally seeing you, but he manages to hold back and lowers his sword, unwilling to sheathe it.

Caraxes produces a sound you think is akin to a mewl, as much as a mewl a ten foot beast could make. You huff and feel your breath hitch. You close your eyes and reach out to him, ready to accept whichever fate awaits you, companionship or death.

You gasp, eyes instantly opening when you feel the wetness on your hands. Caraxes presses his snout to your palms, and you squeak, quickly pulling back at the heat of his huff.

He lifts his head and begins to pace around again. You are certain now that the beast was, in fact, restless.

"Paez ilagon!" you exclaim, raising your hands at him.

Caraxes huffs, debating if he should heed your command.

"Paez ilagon," slow down, you repeat as the dragon fully faces you.

You, and everyone else who witnesses it, are shocked that Caraxes listens. He quits his pacing and slowly comes to a halt, looming over you.

Your lips wobble, humbled by the idea such a fearsome creature would obey the commands of such a pathetic being. You begin to weep, as Caraxes lowers his head, sniffing you. Your hands dart out to him when he gets too close. You slightly topple when he nudges you with his snout. You feel the warmth of his breath seeping through your dress as he brushes against you. You can tell he is trying his best to be gentle, but even then he is too strong that you have to repel him. He makes the faintest of sounds.

"Gods be good," you mumble as you gaze upon the creatures scales, "you can smell him, can't you? Daemon?"

Caraxes remains pressed against you a moment longer.

You sniffle and momentarily fantasize about the child growing within you. You lean into him in defeat, "you silly thing."

His throat emits a low rumble.

"It would have been better if you made me a snack," you mumble against him, feeling your tears drip.

Caraxes slowly lowers his head until he is laid on the floor. You remain leaned on him for a moment, and then you pull away with a sigh. You look upon the dragon, thinking he is so much like his rider, and stroke his cheek one last time before pulling away.

You walk towards the dragon keeper you had blindsided and lower your head in shame, speaking the word you had learned for Daemon, "usōvegon." Apologies.

He stares at you for a moment, taking in your now messy hair and dirtied face, and replies with something you do not understand.

You nod at him without meeting his eyes then hurriedly walk off. Arryk is quick to follow after you, and his skidding makes Caraxes screech at him. He flinches at the sound, looking behind him warily. You do not.

When Arryk finally catches up to you, he takes your arm and calls out your name. He is alarmed by the red smeared down your philtrum and cheek.

"Forgive me," you mutter, unable to meet his gaze. You do not stop walking, "I- I was overcome... I did not think of anything but myself. I did not mean to cause anyone such immense distress."

"What were you trying to do?" Arryk quips, taking in your dirtied face. He did not know if it would be appropriate to wipe it with his cloak.

You shake your head, still unable to look at him.

"Princess," Arryk speaks like a plea, "did you know Caraxes would not hurt you?"

You gulp, quickening you pace.

Arryk huffs in frustration, calling out your name.

He forces you to stop by dashing forward, coming in front of you. You look up at him, eyes teary and mouth parted.

"I beg you," he clenches his fists, before succumbing to his urges. He grabs his cloak and wipes your face, brushing the dirt and blood as neatly as he can, "please tell me you did not knowingly put yourself in danger."

The tears running down your face help him clean you off. You honestly say, "I don't know if I should tell you."

Arryk is heart broken. He clenches his jaw tightly and releases his hold on you. He steps aside and you begin walking again.

You feel awful as you look at him. He is sullen as he walks beside you. You wipe your nose on your sleeve, "apologies, Arryk."

He shakes his head and opens his mouth. His jaw hangs for a moment, but then he closes his mouth, saying nothing.

You turn to your side when you hear your name called.

Alicent, who was making her way to the king's quarters, runs up you, eyes widening at the blood on your face. The red had spread as it mixed with your tears. She quickly pulls out her handkerchief, "your nose is bleeding!"

Your eyes widen, as you did not know this, but you quickly take her wrist and slowly pull away, "it is nothing."

"What happened to her, ser?" Alicent turns to Arryk.

Arryk is eager to tattle, "she was at the dragon pit and-"

"I fell," you cut him off, blocking your sister's gaze upon your ward, "I-"

"You fell in the dragon pit?!" she bristles further. Your feigning backfired. "What did Daemon do?!"

"The prince is nowhere to be seen," Arryk scoffs.

"I was- am looking for him!" you blurt

"Caraxes nearly attacked her," Arryk adds.

"Arryk!" you whip your head to him then back to your sister, "he did not!"

"He shoved her back and she fell!" he explains, "that's why her nose is bloody."

Alicent calls your name as you call Arryk's.

Your sister takes your shoulders, eyes immediately watering, "did you want to get hurt, sister?"

Your jaw slacks, "I- I-"

"Does Daemon posses you to do such things?" your baby sister begins to cry.

You shake your head rapidly, "no! No. I swear to you, this has nothing to do with him."

"Then what?" Alicent asks with a broken voice.

You gasp for air and feel a shiver run down your spine. You cannot tell her the truth, so you explain instead, "my nose already bled yesterday, which is why it's bleeding now."

"What?!"

"I already fainted yesterday and fell quite hard, which is why my nose is bleeding again."

"Mother, please," Alicent whispers.

"Alicent, I swear to you, you need not-"

"How could you let this happen to her twice?" Alicent turns to Arryk.

Arryk lowers his head, "I have failed-"

"I snuck behind him," you blurt, "do not fault him for my impulsiveness."

Alicent's heart is crush as she watches you wipe your face.

"It is not Arryk's fault that my nose is bloody. It is neither Caraxes fault for shoving me. It is mine. My body is weak and I have spent all day looking for my husband, against the behest of my maester."

Alicent clenches her jaw. It is Daemon's fault.

"I will go to the maesters' ward and submit to whatever is prescribed to me," you place a hand on her shoulder. You sniffle, "do not speak to father of this."

"Make sure to go to the maester's then," you sister warns.

Dejected, you look away and walk off.

Alicent takes in a breath before grabbing her skirts, marching over to the king's quarters.

Viserys is in the middle of gluing his diorama of King's Landing when he hears a knock on the door, "come in."

Alicent enters, sighing deeply before pulling a smile.

"Alicent," his blank expression slightly lightens.

She curtsies, "your highness," and walks over to him. She turns her attention to whatever it was the king was building.

Viserys shows raises a block, "a new tower."

Alicent smiles softly, "pretty."

The king raises a brow upon noticing the stiffness to her demeanor, "is everything alright?"

Alicent betrays herself on purpose by nodding her head too quickly.

Viserys puts the tower down. He reaches for her arm, "what's wrong, my girl."

She takes a sharp breath, "my sister—"

He furrows his brows.

"—she... she has a bloody nose from falling."

"She fell?"

"Twice," Alicent fidgets with her hands, honest agitation for her sister taking over her, "because she's been looking for Daemon."

His reaction to the name is instant. Viserys' jaw clenches and his fists ball in anger, "Daemon."

Daemon struts down the great hall, making his way towards the Iron Throne. The night was now deep and the few candles lit in the room only increased the tension between the brothers.

The prince looks up at the king. The king and two kingsguard stationed on either side of the throne look down at him. Viserys clenches his sword, "and where have you been?"

Daemon scoffs, aimlessly looking around, "have you summoned me to nag?" He clasps his hand in front of him, leaning on one foot, "I already have a wife for that."

His brother laughs, hard. It echoes across the hall, but it is by no means genuine, "I would not have ever known with all the time you waste in brothels."

Daemon grinds his teeth, face contorting, "so you've summoned me to reb-"

"Did you say it?" Viserys snaps.

"... what?"

"An heir for a day— did you say it?!"

"..."

The king's nostrils flare.

"... we must all mourn in our own way, your grace."

Viserys sighs, lowering his head in defeat for a second, then erupts, "MY FAMILY HAS BEEN DESTROYED!" He seethes, "and instead of staying at mine, or Rhaenyra's side you celebrate your own rise with your whores and your lickspittles!

"And wife," he scoffs, "your poor wife... do you even know that your mount has injured her?"

Daemon stiffens.

"She came to the pit looking for you and the beast caused her a bloody nose."

"What?"

"You chose her Daemon. And in choosing her you prove time and time again, I bend to your desires only to be repaid with disrespect. You have no other allies in court but me, yet-"

"You do nothing but distance me from court! From the City Watch, even with- with her... you do nothing but heed the whispers of that leaching old man."

"Leaching old man?" Viserys raises his brows.

Daemon nearly vibrates in anger.

"You mean Otto Hightower?" the king's lips curl, "the man who begged me—"

He laughs dryly.

"—over and back to spare her sickly daughter from enduring a lifetime with a the likes of you!"

Daemon is wounded, "I am your brother."

"Then why do you cut me so deep?"

"I see that man for what he is."

Viserys huffs, "a loyal and faithful-"

"A cunt!"

The king leans back. His kingsguard are ready to draw their steel. Viserys realizes there is no getting through to him. He looks away then turns back to glare at him, "jiōragon hen ñuha laehurlion." Get out of my face.

"Lēkia," Daemon steps forward, muttering the word that meant older brother.

The kingsguards step forward, showing a glimmer of their swords as a warning.

"I hear it is the first time your Hightower bride has been separated from her twin. It would do her health good to visit Oldtown."

He clenches his fists tightly.

"Perhaps she might get strong enough to grant you a child," he clenches his jaw, "maybe once the gods have granted you a boy or girl, you will understand my grief." Viserys motions with a nod, "you are to return to your lady wife with no quarrel. Take him out of my sight."

Daemon does not wait to be apprehended and storms out of the room. He is bristling as he gets out.

"Mazeman bona ziry gōntan daor jikagon sȳrī." I take that it did not go well.

Daemon turns and sees Corlys standing by the door, hands clasped in front of him.

"I wanted to speak to you of something important earlier today. I hope your mood is not too bad foul-"

"Ȳdragon se sagon gaomagon lēda bisa jenigon," Daemon snaps. Speak and be done with this bother.

Corlys straightens his back and motions with hand, "it is regarding the Stepstones, your grace."

Daemon furrows his brows, vaguely recalling this topic being broached during one of the council meetings. The two of them discuss this as they walk down the hall. By the time the prince reaches your shared quarters, he's agreed to help the Seasnake with his concern.

You leap from your bed when the door opens. Daemon freezes as you scurry to the door, hastily running to him without even putting on your slippers. You stand before him barefoot, heaving as you clutch your nightgown. He stares at you, hands clenching into fists.

"Usōvegon," your lips tremble.

Daemon's face falls a fraction as he watches your eyes water.

"Usōvegon," apologies, you repeat. "Please..." you slowly reach for him.

He watches your palms press against his chest. He makes no attempt to move.

"Do not be cross with me any longer."

A deep breath flares through his nostrils. He realizes then that he is exhausted and shuts his eyes. He leans his forehead on yours and takes your wrists. He huffs at your feel, "you are freezing."

"I-"

Daemon seals you into an embrace and the warmth of his body quickly seeps onto your much colder one. A shiver runs down your spine. You immediately wrap your arms around him and nuzzle your face into his chest. He mimics you, brushing his cheek against your hair, taking in the faint smell of citrus. He remembers what his brother said and repeats it, "ñuha mijegindita ābrazȳrys." My poor wife.

You don't know what he says, so you make sure to tell him what wants to hear— what you think he wants to hear, "I will not defy you ever again."

He does not care about that. He pulls back and looks at you. He wipes the tears off your face and a line forms between his brows, "Caraxes attacked you?"

One of your hands instinctively comes to your philtrum, "no. I-" you shake your head, "I fell."

You don't know why you think Daemon would be satisfied with your answer. He presses, "tell me exactly what happened."

You huff, "I was... yesterday, I fainted—"

"Fainted?"

"—then I fell."

He shakes his head, "this happened in the dragon pit?"

"... no. When... when I was chasing after you."

Daemon brushes your hair back.

You cannot hold his gaze, "I went to the pit, hoping you'd be there and-" you realize you cannot tell him what happened. You cannot tell him you walked to his mount and his mount did not attack you because he could smell part of him in you. You huff, "-and Caraxes got close and knocked me over."

"Did he try to bite you?"

You debate for a second before shaking your head.

Daemon sighs, "he must have smelled me on you and got excited."

Your throat tightens. Goosebumps form on your arm when Daemon traces your nose with his thumb.

"And your nose bled?"

You do not want to answer.

He sighs, "I will reintroduce you to him, so that he does not act so-"

"It's not his fault!" you blurt, "not really."

He knits his brows.

"When I fainted and fell, my nose already bled, so..." you motion with a finger, "Caraxes simply... set off a previous injury."

He says absolutely nothing.

"My body is weak," you mumble, hoping to explain it better, "I've had worse injuries."

"Do you tell me this so that I will not bring you to Caraxes?"

"No," you shake your head, "no. Just... so you do not..." worry, you almost say, but then the idea feels presumptuous.

"Not fault my beast for acting like one?" Daemon asks, as he heads for his cabinet.

You look at him for a moment then follow. You decide to hum and proceed to help him get undressed.

Your husband examines your face. The moonlight mixed with candlelight makes your skin glow. He is loathe to think your tears add to it, but it's unfortunately true. Your being glistens because of all these things. He interrupts your unbuttoning by taking your cheeks and slowly wiping off the tears on your lashes.

You blink at him, "better?"

"Gevie," he says, brushing your throat with his thumbs.

You nod, though you still did not know what that meant. You push his doublet past his shoulders and once his dress shirt remained, he is quick to remove his shoes as you bring his clothes to the hamper. When you walk back to him, he is picking out clothes from his closet. You are deeply confused when he hands you a stack of shirts.

Daemon moves to his other cabinet and says, "pack those in my trunk for me."

You freeze and blink rapidly, "I-" you turn to his truck, which was atop his closet. Your heart races, "I cannot reach it."

Daemon pulls out more clothing before looking at you. You watch him closely as he stands and reaches for the trunk. He places it on the floor and opens it.

You slowly kneel on the floor beside it, doing your best to keep calm in this moment. Are you leaving? You nearly ask him, but you don't because he clearly is. You begin to fold his clothes, but you cannot hold your peace, "where are you going?"

Daemon stuffs his clothes into his trunk and sighs before crouching down to fix them, "the Stepstones."

"W-what?"

"The Seasnake needs help with the Crabfeeder, so I will help him."

"Why?" you blurt all too quickly.

Daemon straightens up. He looks down at you as you shake your head and quickly finish folding his clothes.

"Why must it be you?"

The voice of his brother rings in his mind. Do you carry such low regard of him just as he? "Why can't it be me?" he snaps, "you think I will be of no help?"

He is taken aback by how you chuck his clothes into his trunk rather aggressively. His face begins to harden with anger but then you make a noise and lean into the trunk, heaving deeply in and out.

"Wha-"

You cut him off by reaching for his legs. He is frozen in place as you embrace him from where you knelt on the floor.

Whatever choler was building in him quickly dissipates and morphs into... fear, or rather, worry. He calls out your name, reaching for your head.

"You cannot leave me," you shudder, gripping his calves for dear life. You look up at him, face wholly distraught but not teary. You find yourself too tired to shed a tear.

Cannot leave you? He does not like the way you imply he would be unable to if he wanted. Daemon watches you as you slowly bring yourself up to a stand. He does not help you as you pull yourself up using his legs and waist.

Your hands remain gripping the sides of his shirt as you stare at him. You take in his stoic expression as you gather the nerve to repeat, "you cannot leave m-"

"And why can't I?" he quips as his insecurity gets ahead of himself.

You hear it in his voice. You hear how he thinks you're challenging him. You shake your head and correct yourself, "n-no," you shudder, "no, Daemon, no. I- I want you to stay." You brush your palms up his chest.

He can feel the tremble of your hands as they come to his cheeks. He knit his brows at your confession. He has to ask, "why?"

You could tell him many reasons. The one possibly most relevant to him is that of the fact you were carrying his unborn child. A shiver runs down your spine; you are not foolish enough to believe this would be something that would make him want to stay. You could always tell him you needed him, your health needed him, because it was true. As much as he clawed your fragile heart, he made it soar in ways you've never experienced. But there was a rather simpler truth to that need, though attached to a very complicated feeling, "because I love you."

Daemon's expression falls. Though his lips barely part, you can tell that he is gobsmacked. You release a shaky breath as you swipe his chin and jaw with the pads of your thumbs.

Should he be so shocked? Love in a marriage is not so uncommon, even if it is arranged, even if it felt opposite in the beginning.

So, what?

What was your love to him? It would wax and wane like his brother's— and his brother, his fucking brother. He could not grant him the satisfaction. Daemon takes you by the wrists and slowly pries you off, "you are mistaken."

You take a deep breath at his words. You are perfectly still.

"I do not feel the same," he mutters.

Daemon was not one to lie, convinced such an act was beneath him, reserved for incapable, lesser men; half-wits, and yellow-bellies. The only reason he could say this was because the cup in which you held your love for him was far deeper than the one he had for you, and he was aware of it. He loved himself far more than he could ever bring himself to love anyone; he would always be first.

Still, he was not an incapable, lesser man, nor was he a half-witted yellow-belly. He knew of the cup he held, which oft overflowed. The mere thought of you triggered a smell in the air, and at the mention of your name, his bones ignited. You were his, and you held his regard, his affection, his lust, and, yes, his love.

All of this, he was about to explain, but then your reaction blind-sided him.

You nod, "I know."

How terrible it was to hear it. He knew his words where callous. He knew wuch an admission is a gash from a jagged blade— to not be loved by who you loved. Yet your casual resignation to this information stung, nay, scorched his heart.

Is it cold? Is his love so dry you cannot even feel it?

His grip on you falters.

You bring your hands to his shoulders. You rub his bicep and smile softly in reassurance, "I do not mind."

"What?"

Your smile widens a fraction, "I know you enjoy the... delicateness of my body, both intimately and-" you motion to yourself, "-regarding my affliction."

He knits his brows.

"It is wholly contrary to yours, and it is mirthful to you," you nod again, "I understand."

"Do you?" he raises his furrowed brows.

You slowly loosen your hold on him. You pull away to fidget with your fingers, "do I not?"

"No," he scoffs under his breath, chest tightening far too much he has to move past you, "I don't think you do."

You are quick to grab him but it slips, "then make me understand."

Daemon stops in his tracks, turning back to you as his breathing picks up.

Your own does the same, but your gasps get shorter and shorter, so much so, you feel yourself get lightheaded. Your husband has to grab you to keep you upright, but you want to show him you have the will to overcome this, that you aren't dead weight, so push him away and mutter, "I- I can do it, Daemon."

He misinterprets you. You scorch him again. He squeezes your arms, "you don't want my help now?"

"No," you say as try to catch your breath, "I- I just-" you cannot continue.

Daemon has to sit you down to help calm you down. He tried to keep you upright, but then he realizes you were consciously trying to lean into his chest, so he lets you. You press your cheek against his warm muscles and sigh at the beat of his heart. You wrap your arms around him, "I want this."

He stares at your brown hair for a moment.

"I want all of this," you sigh, "which is why I want to be what you want me to be."

He finally lets himself embrace you, but just then, you pull away to look at him.

"I can do it," you nod as you take a final deep breath, "I can be a dutiful wife— I will be a dutiful wife. I will not defy you. I will do as you please. I will not expect more than I ought."

"You cannot do everything for me," Daemon says with slight contempt, a line between his brows.

"I-" you shake your head, "... I know," you shake your head faster, taking his hands, "but can I make you stay?"

He looks at how you hold him. He feels sick.

"What can I do to ma-"

"You do not understand," he pulls his hand away, "my brother wants me to leave. He is sick of me and prays for my riddance."

You watch as Daemon stands and paces around.

"He told me to bring you to your twin in Oldtown, and I would sooner eat Caraxes' shit than be tossed aside to the fucking Reach."

You shake your head, "why does he want you to leave?"

"He is weepy over the drunken words I spoke."

"Well, what did you-"

"Does it matter?!" he snaps, raising his hands, "I must leave!"

He is clearly upset. You nod your head and come to a stand, "then I will speak to the k-"

"No!" he shouts, "I will not have my wife act on my behalf, as though I rolled my belly."

"You are not rolling your belly, I am."

"You think there is a fucking difference?!" he quips, marching in front of you, "no! I am to leave in the dawn, so pack my fucking things, woman!"

You grit your teeth in an attempt to steel yourself away. It does not prevent the tears from running down your cheeks.

Daemon's nostrils flare as you go back to his trunk and sort out his clothes. He hears your soft whimpers and slowly begins to deflate. He wipes his face, slowly turning to you. He watches tears drop onto his garbs, "have you nothing to say?"

You sniffle and shake your head rapidly.

"No?!" his expression pinches.

You stand and grab the rest of this clothes. You sniffle with difficulty then sigh deeply. Your voice is shaky, "I want only to please you."

Daemon chuckles dryly, aimlessly looking around, "you think this pleases me?"

"Then tell me what will!" you whip your head around, clutching his clothes tightly in your arms, "I implore you." You step forward and haphazardly drop everything to his trunk, "I cannot please you if you refuse to tell me what you want."

"I want to go to the fucking Stepstones!" he points to nowhere.

You are shattered. How terrible of him to make it so painfully clear that what he wants does not even involve you. He does not want you, or even if he did, you cannot be enough. You lower your gaze.

"I want you to beg me to stay."

You look up at him. You chuckle dryly under your breath when you realize he's being serious. Your sorrow is not enough, it seems, now he wants even your shame.

Daemon tenses when you get on your knees.

You grip the fabric of his trousers as tightly as possible in an attempt to steel yourself, but it does not prevent your tears from falling. You shudder, "please."

"..."

"Stay. I beg you."

Your prince gazes upon your bitterness. He brushes your cheek and feels the coldness of your tears. He sighs because this does not affect him the way he had hoped.

It is not enough.

Dawn breaks, and Caraxes is restless. Daemon's things were being secured on his dragon, but that is not why so many dragon keepers had to keep him in check.

There, by the entrance, you stood with your hands clasped together and your head hung low. Both your wards behind you, eyeing your prince, who was doing his best to calm his ride as the last of his things were readied. Daemon did not know Caraxes was acting this way because of your distress, but the keepers slowly began to realize this was the case.

One of the keepers call out, "ñuha dārilaros, aōha ābrazȳrys." My prince, your wife.

"Rȳbagon, Caraxes!" Daemon snaps at his dragon to listen. Caraxes shakes his head and the prince spares the dragon keeper a glance, "skoros hen zirȳla?" What of her?

"Aōha zaldrīzes kostagon yknagon zirȳla boter." Your dragon can smell her suffering.

The prince turns to you, back to Caraxes, "iksis ziry zirȳla, Caraxes?" Is it her, Caraxes.

You lift your gaze when you hear Daemon call for you. He beckons you over and before you can move, Arryk grabs your arm and whispers, "I do not think this wise."

You slightly turn to him, "he will not harm me. You saw how Caraxes acted yesterday."

"It is not the dragon I worry about."

You look at the man, seeing how his jaw is clenched. You place a hand on his shoulder plate before walking towards your husband.

Rather immediately, there is a shift in Caraxes's demeanor. He huffs and screeches, neck coiling so his head could come near you. Daemon barks out multiple commands and his mount finally obeys.

The prince knits his brows then turns to you, reaching out a hand. You take it and find yourself pulled into your husband's arms. Your skin pricks with goosebumps when he whispers in your ear, "he wants you."

You sigh and close your eyes, resigning yourself to Daemon. He links his fingers into yours and places it atop his dragon's snout.

Caraxes sighs and slightly leans in.

Daemon is astounded by this, "I did not know he could possibly care for someone more than his rider."

You slowly open your eyes and look at the creatures ruby scales. "He does not," you mutter, rubbing one hand on your belly.

He does not hear this. When he turns you around, he catches you rubbing your stomach. He sighs and takes your hand, "do not weep so bitterly."

You cannot do anything but the opposite. Tears stream down your cheeks, "do not be so cruel then."

Daemon watches how your lips wobble. A line forms between his brows, "do not make this harder than it should."

You pull away from him and lower your gaze, "then just leave me now, and spare me the slow torture."

He tenses at your words. His expression hardens, "I did not ask you to see me off."

"Shall I leave then?" you snap, eyes red as you look back at him.

"Yes!"

You grab your skirt and walk towards the twins.

Daemon is stunned. He turns around and watches as you storm off. He calls your name, once, twice, and then he is sobered by the scream of Caraxes. You do not even stop by the entrance anymore, and walk past your kingsguards, who are quick to follow after you.

Here you were doing his bidding, following his wishes, yet there was no satisfaction. All there was... was less of you, less of your strength, your light, your fire.

Daemon turns to Caraxes, who was restless again. He pushes past the dragon keepers and saddles up. He orders Caraxes to start walking, so he does. The blood wrym begins to crawl towards you and the prince has to reel him back, barking out orders of obedience far too loudly.

Caraxes gives a loud screech before following the order. He huffs so deeply that the wind it produces makes you topple.

Your knights are quick to keep you upright, and though you so badly want to turn around, you remind yourself that your husband has done nothing but all he wants since you've wed. If he wanted you to stay, he would have told you.

You wouldn't know then that Daemon made Caraxes stop in his tracks. You wouldn't know that as he watched you walk off, he was mumbling under his breath that you turn around. You just kept walking yet he still waited for you to turn back, even after your figure had disappeared.

He would also never know that you headed down to the docks near the Keep, just to watch Caraxes fly away one last time. He would never know how your skin pricked with gooseflesh at the sight of the red winged beast soaring above. He would never know how hard it became for you to breathe.

"Gods, please," you mumble as your eyes endlessly watered, "swiftly return him to me."

Arryk and Erryk, stood on either side of you, glared at the sky as they heard your broken voice. They were on high alert as the docks were busy at this hour, and yet, it was necessary to convey their contempt, even if the person it was meant for could not see.

"Give me back my husband," you look at your reflection in the water, "or take me to my mother."

Before your words even register to either of the twins, you've already jumped into the water. Erryk nearly jumps in with you before realizing his armor would surely make him sink. "PRINCESS!" he screams as he undoes his armor.

"THE PRINCESS!" Arryk screams to the fisherman, "SHE'S FALLEN INTO THE WATER!"

The commotion is great. It is loud and frantic, yet as your body plunges and slowly begins to float, you care little. You feel someone fish you out of the water by the arm, and you want nothing more than to break free and swim towards your demise. But then, you hear your wards calling out your name, and you realize you cannot.

You say nothing once you are on land.

Both Cargylls has a hand on your arm, and each of them are worriedly questioning you, "are you alrigh- what happe- what were you thinki- are you faint- my princess-"

"I need to see him," you say.

Arryk and Erryk freeze. The look at each other, not knowing what to say. Arryk offers, "my princess. I fear you cannot see Dae-"

"Not him," you look between them as you gather your skirts. It is arduous, as it is soaking wet.

Otto was on his way back from the scrolls room when hears the shout from across the hall. He tenses like a rock at the recognition of his daughter's voice.

You hadn't realized how tired you were until you saw him. Your knees immediately buckle and you fall to the floor as you call out, "papa!"

The Lord Hand dashes to you, dropping the scrolls he had along the way. He gets on his knees and picks you up. He is aghast by your dripping state, and his anger is soon turned on your incompetent guards, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY GIRL?"

"Papa," you mutter once you are in his arms.

Otto cradles you, looking down at your sorry form. A deep line is between his brows.

"He left me," you whisper, tears wetting your already wet cheeks.

Daemon. Lord Hightower clenches his jaw. It's always fucking him. "Come, my girl," he mutters, trying to bring you to your feet, "let's get you-"

Your voice is soft, yet it still cuts him off, "you must not leave me."

Otto is frozen. Arryk and Erryk are frozen too.

"If you leave me too, I do not think I will survive."

[thelov3lybookworm]

Ice Cream (part 2)

Part 1

Summary: what is this new flavour in the air? mint chocolate of course. not love...right?

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Word Count: 1935

Warnings: literally just fluff. azzie being a shy baby 🥹hes literally so adorable omg i love him 😭

A/n: YAYYY ITS FINALLY HEREEEE🥳🥳🥳 im going to be posting one more part, most likely on friday, in which these babies finally get together and ic finds out 🥹

anyways, enjoyyy🥹🤭

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Y/n had known the male who bothered her day and night and almost everyday at the bookstore was the spymaster. The shadows gave him away before his dark, mysterious and broody nature could. But she had to wonder.

Was she mistaken?

For surely, no spymaster would be so clumsy and talk to the point of oversharing?

After Y/n had reluctantly let herself believe that this was not some cruel joke the spymaster was centering around her disappointment as the punchline, she had gotten dressed up in one of her better dresses, but tried to make it not overly fancy so as not to seem like she was trying to impress him.

As she had watched the sun descend closer to the horizon, she almost ditched the idea of him ever coming to meet her, and had just grabbed a book to read quietly by the fireplace when the knock on the door made her freeze. Her head had snapped to the door, her disappointment morphing into quiet anticipation. She had turned and set her book down, moving in quick steps towards the door, her light purple skirt swishing around her ankles.

He had been panting when she finally opened the door, a wide, shy smile on his face.

It almost made Y/n give him a wide smile of her own. But she had tamped the urge down and stepped out onto the apartment landing, with only a slight tilt to her lips in greeting, and turned away from him to lock the door of her small apartment. In hindsight, she had felt slightly insecure, wondering what he would be thinking of her, considering he most likely lived in the house of wind that stood proudly over the city like a soldier standing guard.

The entire building her apartment was a part of looked like a pebble in the face of that cliff.

It was an effort not to apologise to him for her living conditions. By no means was she struggling to get by, and her apartment was something many could only dream of, but it wasn’t the most lavish, either.

Azriel had spoken up and distracted her before she could beat herself up over the fact that he had seen her home, something so vulnerable and private, and guided her down and out, into the fading golden light that made Y/n feel ten times prettier.

After that, everything had gone pretty well, almost too well. It almost began concerning her when Azriel didn’t make any comments about things she was not comfortable talking to him about yet, as most men seemed only to be interested in taking her to bed for just one night.

But there was one thing that did concern her. The way he seemed to be physically unable to shut his mouth. It made her wonder, did he always talk this much? If yes, how the hell is he a spymaster if he keeps spilling secrets?

"-And then Cassian threw up all over me, and I had to scrub myself raw because I was so disgusted. I didn’t talk to him for a week." Azriel laughed, the faelights lighting up the air between him and Y/n in an attempt to make this more romantic and intimate glinting off his eyes. They were sitting in a diner, not too fancy, just the perfect amount of flashy and comforting.

Y/n tilted her head, lips twitching. When she spoke, it was not too hard to speak in her normal soft, quiet voice, considering she was in the presence of someone considered a predator. "Bet he felt so much guilt."

He nodded, folding his arms on the table and leaning forward, glancing down at his empty plate stained lightly with the leftovers of their dinner. "He wouldn’t stop apologising, and I felt bad for ignoring him. Eventually, I agreed to talk to him again if he promised to sit far from me the next time he drank so much."

Y/n huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking her head, trying to imagine the scene he described. Silence surrounded the two for a long moment, letting her mind wander, before he pulled her attention back to himself.

Gentle in his voice, but commanding her every thought to himself as effortlessly as he did those shadows.

Or maybe not, because it seemed they were set on ignoring him. They kept reaching out to play with her hair, her fingers, the sleeves of her loose white shirt every time his attention left them. He blushed hard every time, apologising constantly.

At this point, Y/n couldn’t help but think if he’d apologised more than he’d spoken anything else.

"Are you ready to leave?"

Y/n straightened, nodding. She grabbed her purse, following him to the exit, where he had already paid before she could catch up. At her glare, he simply flashed her an innocent smile.

"You didn’t have to pay for me."

He shrugged, watching intently as Y/n pulled her jacket closer to herself before shyly extending his arm for her to hold. Y/n only contemplated for a minute, taking note of the blush on his face darkening under flashes of light from shops down the road, before slipping her palm through his elbow.

He continued talking, telling her of how he’d been to this shop-and oh! Cassian had the biggest infatuation with that lady looking after that shop.

The shadows continued to sneak up to her, twining with her hair and caressing her back lightly like some sort of a protective lover. They even floated by towards the hand she wasn’t holding Azriel’s arm with and slithered in between the fingers, their touch light and barely tangible, but still very much there.

Azriel slowed down while she glanced down at the shadow climbing up and under her sleeve, looking at a nearby shop. "Have you ever tried ice-cream?"

It was a treat that had recently become popular from summer court and spread like wildfire throughout prythian. With good reason too.

Y/n followed his gaze to a pink coloured shop with striped red and white interior. The seats inside were over exaggerated blue and purple colour and entirely too large to be anything but for attracting people.

She nodded. "A couple of times."

He fumbled for a moment before clearing his throat. "Would you be interested-"

"Yes."

She had already begun walking towards the shop, carefully manoeuvring so as not to bump into anyone. Azriel hurried to keep pace, and Y/n smiled to herself, turning her head away from him to make sure he didn’t see it.

"Which flavour would you like?" He questioned once the two were inside, gaze fixed on the plethora of flavours displayed under the glass case. Y/n did not even have to consider after she saw her favourite flavour.

"Mint chocolate."

He blinked, lifting his head to look at her in surprise. "You like mint?"

Y/n gave him an unamused look. "What, are you going to lecture me about how it tastes disgusting?"

His cheeks darkened and he shook his head, hurriedly proceeding to explain. "No- no, I was just curious. I’ve never tried it, but Rhysand once said it tastes weird, so I was surprised you liked it-" he took a deep breath, his eyes wide as he stared at her.

Y/n’s lips quirked to the side. "Your high lord doesn’t have very good taste then."

Azriel only huffed, contrary to what Y/n expected, and gave their orders to the worker who stood behind the counter. Y/n only watched him, her eyes following his every move as he talked and took the treats from the worker, as he turned, his gaze instantly searching for her and meeting hers as she stood against a far wall.

Even his eyes seemed to smile as he made his way over to hand her the mint chocolate.

To make conversation- and also to make some effort herself, seeing as he had been trying to keep her engaged and entertained the whole evening- Y/n curiously peeked at his hand. "What did you get?"

He smiled. "Chocolate."

Y/n hummed, picking up her spoon and scooping up a small amount of ice cream into her mouth, relishing the sweetness before turning back to him and extending her cup towards him.

"You can try if you want."

He coughed, choking on his ice cream before shaking his head so vigorously to the point Y/n was concerned he’d sprain his neck. "No no, it’s alright."

Y/n stared at him for a long moment, bored, until he reluctantly dipped his spoon into her cup and tasted the divine gift from god that was mint chocolate. His eyebrows rose imperceptibly, and he glanced down at his spoon before looking at Y/n.

"It’s good."

She shrugged. "I know. I don’t get why some people don’t like it. I guess they just hate good things."

"I might just get obsessed with it." He laughed under his breath before shoving another spoonful of his own ice cream into his mouth. She offered to share their ice creams, and he refused at first but after seeing that she really was serious, he agreed. The two ate in silence, staring out of the glass floor to ceiling window, letting quiet settle between them.

His presence was calming, comforting as no one else’s was. Y/n felt safe, like the world could be going into destruction but their little corner in this ice cream shop, with him, would be protected. It made Y/n question if she was thinking too much with her heart.

Feeling his gaze on her, Y/n glanced at Azriel twice, but each time, he was looking elsewhere.

It made her cheeks heat for reasons she couldn’t figure out.

Too soon, the sweet treat was finished, and it was time to part ways. Despite that, as Y/n and Azriel stood in front of her apartment after he had walked her home, she did not want to leave. It was so unlike her, so foreign to feel that way, but she, surprisingly, loved it.

But maybe unfamiliar things are good for you, or however those sayings go.

Azriel’s head was bowed as he toed at the grey stones of the pathway, his neck and ears flushed. He refused to look into her eyes for more than a moment, so shy Y/n wondered if she was playing the intimidating and brooding bookstore owner role too well.

Finally, after she couldn’t handle the silence and his nervous neck scratches anymore, she spoke.

"So, same time tomorrow?" He looked up, wide eyed. She scoffed.  "What? I didn’t think you told me all about your ancestry and your family’s personal lives just to have ice cream with me for one day. Did you?"

He cleared his throat. "Are you sure?"

Y/n raised a brow, trying her best to not let her lips lift in a smile. "Well, are you?"

He nodded quickly, something like hope beginning to glow in his hazel eyes.

They’re pretty, Y/n thought to herself.

She turned away, before pausing and looking at him again. His smile remained unwavering the longer she stared at him.

But the smile did vanish once she rose onto her tiptoes and pressed her lips gently against his cheek. She smirked to herself, proud of her accomplishments, and then left him standing in the snow.

She couldn’t wait to have more ice cream with him.

She was almost… excited, to see where this path would lead to.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[y2kas13]

Can She Stay? (Paige B. x reader)

Paige b. x dads best friend's daughter!reader

Summary: Paige goes with her dad to his best friend's house meets his daughter and quickly becomes close.

cw: fluff, rizzler paige lol, spicy but no smut, reader isn't given a set race or weight just mentions of curly hair and being on the 'thicker side' but nothing too defining y/n used srry

a/n: (I wrote this months ago and never knew how to finish so I’m gonna post it how it is if you wnat a continuation I definitely will) I'm actually from and live in CT so I'm gonna use the name of a college from here for realism its not important tho so don't worry lol thank you for tuning in to my poll for those who interacted this is technically my 2nd fic on Tumblr but my other one sucked and flopped 😭 so hopefully this is better. I appreciate interaction!

Paige was a go-getter, constantly up and running ready to take on the day and do what needed to be done.

Needless to say, she didn't want to get out of bed and go with her dad to sit around and listen to old dad jokes for the next few hours.

She loves her dad, but after weeks of training and hard work, she wants to mindlessly scroll on her phone and eat some well-deserved junk food.

"Come on Paige it'll be fun I promise it'll be worth your while. watch you'll have so much fun you won't wanna leave! now come on Paige!" Hearing her dad have so much enthusiasm trumps her feelings of wanting to stay home. She changes out of her pajamas into black loose-fitting sweatpants and a white crop-top she puts her slides on and gets in her dad's car and falls asleep.

Feeling the car come to a stop makes her open her eyes and see that they are presumably at her dad's friend's house. She rubs her eyes and stretches to wake her up. She hops out of the car and walks up to the door after her dad.

Before her dad can even finish knocking a man who looks the same age as her dad opens the door. "Bob! there you are old timer hurry up the game is coming on." He ushers them in and both Paige and her dad hurry inside.

Paige takes in the living room while her dad and his friend playfully banter with each other. Before Paige can open her mouth to say anything she hears soft footsteps coming toward the living room which causes her to look up.

"Dad, what's all that noise?"

Paige sees probably one of the prettiest girls she's seen in a while. Beautiful curly hair held out of her face by a simple headband, she's wearing a simple blue crop top similar to her own and the smallest pair of black pajama shorts she's seen in forever.

The feeling of the girl's eyes also looking her up and down causes Paige to finally stop staring and look away. "Come here baby let me introduce you!" The pretty girl steps further into the living room to stand by both dads which causes Paige to follow without even thinking. The girls' dads introduce them to each other, "This is my daughter Paigey she plays basketball at UConn she's a little star." Bob says with obvious pride in his voice which causes Paige to slightly blush and look down waving him away playfully at the nickname. This elicits a small giggle out of the girl which makes Paige smile a little harder and look up at the girl seeing that she's already looking at Paige. "This is my baby she goes to Southern and she's the student council president at her school." Pride is also evident in his words, the baby name makes the girl turn away in slight embarrassment.

The TV in the living room starts playing a loud sound alerting the dads that the game they were awaiting is finally starting so they offer that the girls should go hang out together in the girl's room. They head towards the girl's room.

"So baby huh?" Paige says with a small smirk on her lips, the name used making her laugh.

"Oh whatever Paigey," The girl rolls her eyes playfully and sits on her bed, "I have a real name you know." Paige looks around the room taking in the aesthetically pleasing room with light grey walls dark hardwood floors and posters of all her favorite shows and artists on her wall.

Paige sits down at the small dark wooded vanity now looking at the girl perched on the bed, "Care to share then princess?" the nickname princess causes the girl to spring up and look at the blonde girl at her vanity

She shares her name with Paige to which Paige compliments.

“So student council president huh? You’re a smart girl aren’t you.” Paige says with a smirk but there’s no condensation or malice in it.

The curly haired girl nods making her curls bounce and flop in her face slightly. “Yep school has always been my thing I’ve been best at.”

Paige gets up from her vanity and walk over to the bed. She looks the curly haired girl in the eyes and moves some of the hair that fell in her face. “Maybe you should come by my school and see me do what I’m best at.”

[unknownati]

xii. never lose me

a/n: (i lost the ask so sorry to that anon, hope u still find this 💀 but the ask was like: can you make a fic based off never lose me by flo milli? with smut)

happy new year my loves!

sorry this took so long im such a slow writer. plus im braindead asf. ik i said i had to proofread this in my last post but i lied i didnt 😬

nooobody ask me where he got all this money cuz baby idk. i hope some of this stuff is correct bc i am not rich 😭

warnings/tags: smut 👻, fem!black!reader, no use of y/n, no desc of reader's physical features BUT reader dresses feminine (think aliyahsinterlude), modern!ekko, boat sex yay, semi-public(?), risky, backshots 🎉, oral (e! recieving), reader getting spoiled, soft dom!ekko, so loosely inspired by the song, not proofread. raw vibe

_______________________________________________

ekko goes above and beyond treating you right.

anything you want, all yours. that new purse? check your mailbox. you need your nails done? here's $300, keep the change, don't worry about it. he always makes sure you're pleased, even if you don't ask. he knows everything about you by heart. favorite flowers, favorite foods, plus your usual orders, so it's not uncommon to come home to food on the table with a fresh vase of florals seated next to it.

of course, nothing about this relationship was ever one sided. there is no one who prances around announcing that ekko is your man quite like you do. you make sure ekko knows that if he ever needs you, no matter what, you're there.

in return, you get whatever you want.

"ekko," you sing, putting your phone down in the cup holder. your hand rests over ekko's, which has a gentle grip on your thigh. crickets chirp outside, veiled beneath the dark sky and lack of light. you're speeding down an empty backroad on your way back home from a little shopping spree at a mall an hour and some change away. "i wanna go somewhere."

he hums. "where were you thinking?"

"dunno yet," you lean your weight onto the center console, maybe somewhere in asia."

"yeah?" he asks, squeezing the fat of your thigh. you smile wide. "sure. let me know when you decide."

"i will, thanks baby," you chirp, gently pulling his hand up your thigh and closer to your center. his fingers catch on the hem, pushing your denim skirt up and gently pressing his thumb into your clit. he's rubbing featherlight circles into it, running over the lacy underwear he bought for you a while back. your gasp is barely heard beneath the music.

the engine whirrs, and you see the speedometer shoot up.

so impatient.

.:*☆

it truly didn't take long for ekko to book that flight. you said the place, and about 30 minutes later everything was set in stone.

excitement rushed through your body as you packed, making sure to tuck your matching sets beneath your clothes. he deserved some type of reward, right?

when you finally arrived at your hotel, late into the night, jet-lagged to all hell, you couldn't help but ask ekko if he needed some help. he did everything, all you did was walk around, complain about your feet hurting a bit, and cling to his arm. regardless, he insisted you worried about nothing and just got comfy for the night because he had something big planned tomorrow.

never would you have ever guessed that you'd end up on a cruiser yacht.

he had you blindfolded after you returned to the hotel from eating and shopping, promising that you'd love it and that you just needed to be patient and trust him. you did; no hesitation there.

and once he slipped it off after your minor freak-out wondering what you're stepping onto that has to be so wobbly, it took your breath away.

the sun sinks below the horizon, yellow rays glittering off of the water. your hands met his, perched on your hips, looking back to find his prideful grin.

"ekko..." you pout.

"iii know, i'm a great boyfriend, you love me, i know," he jokes, chuckling as you walk around the cockpit, marveling the fact that you're on one. "it'll leave soon, there's a cooler with drinks, and i can take pictures for you."

you smile wide. "my personal photographer. in fact, take some of me right now before the sun sets," you rush to hand him your phone, quickly posing yourself in front of the scene.

ekko took taking photos for you so seriously, genuinely telling you how to switch your posing and expression, and without missing a beat always hyping you up to the third degree.

so when you heard nothing from ekko, no 'oooh's or 'mhm's, you turned to him.

"ekko?"

"sorry, you're just..." he laughs sheepishly, avoiding your gaze as if he wasn't the key to your heart. "so pretty."

you roll your eyes. "you're so corny."

the tone of your voice completely betrayed your words, honeyed and bashful. he catches it, shaking his head and raising the camera again.

"right—okay, let's try this again."

.:*☆

the pictures came out great. you wanted to wait until you got home to pick your favorites to post, but all of them were so good that you didn't know which one to pick.

you leaned against the railing, staring out into deep night, city lights twinkling in the distance. the cool sea breeze rushes against your skin, the salty scent of the ocean flooding around you. it was too good of an opportunity to not take more.

"ekko, take a few more for me?"

he hums, not a moment of protest, finding your phone and settling into the seat opposite of you.

you take your seat as well, your torso twisted and legs crossed. his mouth opens—'move your leg a little' rests on his tongue, until he inspects your gaze through the phone. you weren't quite looking at the camera, but rather...behind it.

"you okay?"

you nod. "yeah...you look good as fuck over there."

he fumbles over his words for a moment, looking down at his attire. "in my spiderman shirt?"

"mhm, especially in your spiderman shirt," you look him up and down, eyes sliding over his muscles. "come back over here real quick?"

he's surprised he didn't trip from how quickly he scrambled over to you, sitting in the seat beside you. his smile is poorly hidden as you crawl into his lap. his hands find your waist, pulling you closer.

you direct his face up, fingers gently pushing at his chin, leaning down to lock your lips together.

his hands roam your body—clearly too impatient—fingers pushing beneath your shirt, pulling up and revealing your bra. intricate lace, almost in a floral pattern, dyed a dusty pink that was barely visible under the moonlight. the cups had a deep cut, plunging down from your collar bone to the bottom of your sternum with a dainty little decorative bow.

you literally feel him getting hard. he looks up, fingers running along the band. "this for me?"

"sure is." you nod, reaching down to tug your skirt down. the hem of your matching panties peek out. "you like 'em?"

"do i?" he glances above the short barrier at the captain, who isn't paying an ounce of attention. just humming in his own world, only focused on the path they were going on. perfect.

"shit..." his lips reconnect with yours before trailing down, sucking hickies into your skin, tightly squeezing your thighs, brows furrowing.

you can already tell he's going to find a way to seat you right on his face so you stop him—not because you don't want that, but you've been spoiled enough for one day—pushing his shoulders back and getting off of him.

he looked like a kicked puppy when you separated from him and you just roll your eyes, sinking down onto your knees with a wide smile. it all connects for him and he relaxes against the seat, lips parting as you quickly unbutton his pants, your nail hooking at the band of his trunks. you tug, down, down, down, until his dick springs free and lightly taps his naval.

you waste no time, your lips meeting the base, then parting to let your tongue run up a vein that lead you to the sensitive tip.

ekko shivers, eyes shifting from the arch in your back to your lips, leaving glossy stamps all along his length.

you, on the other hand, kept your eyes locked onto his. he kept averting his gaze. for what, you weren't sure. but you tapped his tip against your tongue, capturing his attention. finally, his eyes meet yours. now you feel like you can continue.

you kiss the tip again, smiling up at him as you allow it to breach your lips, sliding into your mouth agonizingly slow.

"fuuuck," he drags, watching you slowly sink down, taking almost all of it yet stopping where your lips met your fingers.

you get acquainted with the feeling, adjusting your tongue to press against the skin. your cheeks hollow, your head slowly falling into a bobbing movement, stroking him alongside your movements.

he struggles to not thrust straight up into your mouth, gripping the edge of the leather cushions. one hand meets the back of your head but doesn't push or pull, just rests there.

his hips twitch, torso relaxing against the back of the seat, growing rigid whenever your tongue ran across just the right spot. his chest rises and falls rapidly, quickly drawing in breaths then moaning them right out.

your jaw already started to ache, but looking up at him as he falls apart from just your mouth is beyond worth it. he shakes his head, eyes leaving yours, squeezing shut, and you can tell he's already close.

his hand leaves your head, forearm laying against his forehead. you tap him, a reminder. look at me. he peeks down, a breathy chuckle pushing through.

"doin' so good for me, yeah? 'm close—" he warns you—you nod in acknowledgment.

you unhinge your jaw, sticking your tongue out so he can watch his cum spill all over it,

he sucks air in through his teeth, and before you know it you're bent over the seat, looking out onto the horizon. you start to speak and he just shushes you, tugging your skirt up and pulling your panties to the side. soaked.

maybe you were just too impatient, because before he could even get comfortable you were reaching back to put it in. his laugh rings behind you, shooing your hand away so he can finish sinking all the way inside you.

his pelvis meets your ass and you almost caught a glimpse of the back of your skull. he started slow, gripping your waist and bringing you back to meet his strokes.

you're squeezing around him so tight, and all he can do is stare in awe at it. his length glistens, coated in your juices. then he couldn't take it, his pace quickening, watching the fat of your ass recoil against his movements.

it feels euphoric, almost unreal. staring out into the night sky, stars twinkling above you, ocean swaying below you, and ekko thrusting into your heat, moaning behind you—it was overwhelming, it had your flesh running hot.

"feels good?" he questions, though your gasps and mewls answer loud and clear.

"fuck, yes."

"mhm, you're mine, right?"

"a-all yours." you nod.

"all mine?" he asks, and it's rhetorical. not like you could reply anyway, because your moans caught in your throat, rendering any chance you had at words useless.

your noises drowned beneath the whirring of the motor paired with the water swaying beneath you, which you're endlessly grateful for. you're lucky that driver pays almost no attention to what's happening behind him.

you were especially loud, and it only got worse as you felt your orgasm building. ekko knew it too, the way your voice shook, the way you tightened around him, the way you begged him not to stop—it was pushing him over the edge too.

"fuck, that's it. just like that. i got you, okay? good."

your cries overlap ekko's softer groans as you came, your form trembling, jolts of pleasure coursing throughout your body as he fucked you through it.

he had to hold back from coming inside you, letting you ride out your high before pulling out to release all over your back.

he gives you no time to recover, immediately diving in for another round, intoxicated with the way you gasps caught in your throat, holding onto the seat for dear life.

he leans down, his lips meeting your shoulder, his brows furrowed. it did not take long for the two of you to get close again, still sensitive from your previous release. within a few minutes, your juices coat his length and another load lands on your back, seeping down and settling into the dip of your spine.

you're both catching your breath, ekko presses a kiss to the shell of your ear, and you have to stop him from kissing you more. "we're almost there," you hiss, and he huffs, lifting off of you to get himself together,

thank god there were paper towels on board. he cleans his release off of your back and skirt, managing to get the both of your appearances together by the time the yacht met the docks.

the moment the captain comes back to thank you for riding with him, ekko's giving him the quickest thank you possible along with his tip and rushing you off of the boat.

"let's get back to the room? i just wanna see that set you have on a little better."

you know that the second that door closes behind you in the hotel, there is not a chance you'll be stopping.

__________________________________________

pssst!: not the most confident in this one.,. i will make up for this one i swear 😔 locking in!

maybe a part 2 with what happens at the hotel cough cough

[mcrdvcks]

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

chapter summary: You and Logan plan for your wedding.

word count: 9.9k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

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

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

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

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

series masterlist - chapter 1 → chapter 3

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

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

“About Y/N and—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ororo’s smirk grew. “Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jean smirked. “Told you.”

---

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

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

You gave her a small smile. “Figures.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not a chance,” you said sweetly.

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

Your eyes lit up. “Name it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

“Hmm, wedding dresses?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

This was a mistake.

One big, grand mistake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Logan smirked, gesturing toward you. “Ours.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Looking for something specific?” she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath hitched. “It’s beautiful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ororo smiled warmly. “It’s perfect.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jean!” you squeaked, your cheeks flushing.

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[cherie-doll]

Hi I just read your "They waited for you" headcannons and my heart is broken 😭. It was beautifully written but I'm a sucker for a happy ending, so how do you think they'd react if they got home to find you still alive having either been missing or faking your own death?

aw thanks! yeah a couple others requested a happy ending to this hc as well so here it is! (sorry i was supposed to post this hours ago but i fell asleep...)

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: They Waited For You (Happy/Good Alternate Ending)

౨ৎ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

He had felt immense guilt for losing you, if only he could have kept you tucked away better, he knew your corpse was likely out there somewhere, so against the advice and warnings of others he set out to at least find your body and give you a proper burial

He covered the entire area you had last been seen in and no sign of you, he found tracks leading away and traced them for a couple of days until by what seemed like a miracle he found you, still alive, you had managed to make a little nook in a pocket of forest

Blinking, he stood aghast a moment before running towards you, there were deep scars across your face, bruises and wounds but you had managed to hold up, he was surprised to see how you had survived despite your injuries

After taking a step back to look at you, he assessed your injuries, you quivered as his hands cupped your face, it was the first time you had felt his sincere touch in what felt like an eternity, he meekly traces the scars running from your temple down to your cheek, "I knew you'd make it" was all he whispered before taking you home

Ghost

No one had seen him since the news of you being KIA had been delivered, he had felt the emptiness growing within him, consuming his being until he was sure to be left only a walking skeleton of mindlessness

Oh, his poor heart was numb, nothing could make a ripple of effect, it was as if the centerpiece of his being had been removed and he no longer was able to function, he didn't want to go out there and be met by more disappointment, he'd get over it, eventually, or try to forget you, but it'd never be the same

Imagine the shock that nearly overwhelmed his heart who hadn't felt a tinge of emotion when you knocked on the front door, the surge of emotions was like a tidal wave, he didn't hesitate to hold you again

He didn't notice the blood, the bandages or the way your features furrowed, wincing in pain, not at first, not until he got a good look at you and saw the damage you went through, a flicker of your eyes and he knew it'd be a long story, one you weren't ready to tell yet, and he would respect that, for now he was at peace again, let him bask in it

Soap

A dream forever encased in his mind; was his situation so dire that he felt the need to resort to replaying your happiest moments together? The gleam in your eyes that he took for granted, he wanted that spark back, you were a star, his star, his sun in the sky to warm his heart with the most exhilarating of feelings

He thought he had finally lost it when he dreamt you showing up to his doorstep, with arms reaching for him, pulling him into you, it'd always end with him almost reaching you, his fingertips grazing your skin until he would wake up

It was an unexpected feeling when one day his fingers clasped yours, he was able to fully wrap his arms around you and inhale your familiar scent, he thought it was a little cruel that this dream was far too realistic, when he would wake up he'd feel cold again

But it wasn't, it wasn't a dream, his reality was no longer bleak or grim, the cause of his happiness had resurged and it was here to stay for a long time, you were no longer a burning memory

Gaz

People noticed he wasn't the same anymore, the shine in his eyes was gone and the hands that usually transmitted tenderness and security were now hesitant and wavering, he wasn't steady in his emotions nor thoughts, as much as he tried to reassure others that he was fine it was clear the toll it had taken on him

When he felt the pain of your loss spreading over his body, he prepared for it to overtake him, until you appeared like a healer to ease his pain and restore him to what he was before, it was such a surprise to him

His eyes stared into yours for what seemed like an eternity, taking in that you had really come back, once he really processed that you were before him he pulled you into him, remembering how much he had missed holding you safe in his arms and placing kisses on your temple and lips

He was quick to take in your pains and try his best to erase them, he wanted them treated with the best care possible, you had survived even when they had told him you surely died, he wasn't about to let you do anything but be next to him for a long time

Roach

The pain hadn't left him for a moment, he didn't have the chance of peace for fear of forgetting you, he missed resting in your arms, the steady rhythm of your breathing, he missed you beyond more than he could bear

Seeing you barrage into his life again, standing motionless in the doorway, he didn't understand why you needed to fake your death or why you went so long without contacting him, all he needed in that moment was to get to you

He clung onto you, tightly securing his arms around you and letting the hot tears spill down his cheeks, he had felt so lonely, so lost without you he didn't say anything else for now, the both of you silently swayed together, finally, his voice barely above a whisper, with so much softness of heart in his words, he told you to promise him to never leave his side ever again

Alejandro

An explosion of emotions overtook him, he was confused most of all, and he hated confusion, not knowing how one moment you're declared dead then he's mourning for you and the next you're in the flesh before him

He wanted to ask a million question but saved them the moment his eyes landed on the blood seeping through the patched bandages, the way you gingerly held your bandaged arm close to you, the dimmed look in your eyes, you had been broken but managed to come back

He gathered you in his arms, the answers would come later, all in his mind right now was to make you feel at home and nurse you back to health, when you were soundly sleeping, he laid next to you and observed you rest, he felt immediate guilt for wanting to question your disappearance right away

It must've been so hard for you to find your way back, but you had done it all by yourself, you managed to survive and still you thought of crawling back to him

Rudy

He wasn't at all fine with the so called "closure" they had tried to give him when you were KIA, was that it? Would he have to spend the rest of his days trying to be content with only sighing and looking back at the past occasionally?

A pause extended and he found himself unable to do anything with the time he had previously spent with you, there was time on his hands but no one to spend it on, he simply couldn't shake away his thoughts of longing

Until news of your unexpected return came to him, he was the one to rush to you, for your injuries were far too great to be able to make it anywhere outside the hospital, you weakly smiled up at him from the hospital bed, pain ringing in your ears but that passed to being background noise the moment you saw him

The immense relief he felt in his heart that eased the shadow looming over him, he observed your face for any other signs of pain, tell him anything you need he assured, but you only wanted him next to you, you'll heal well if you're with him

Phillip Graves

He failed to ever compose himself, he just couldn't bring himself to get over you, not his job, nor those around him to attempted to provide some comfort, he felt rage at those who tried to distract him from you, they didn't understand he didn't want to forget you, not caring about the pain

The last messages you had sent him were still there on his phone, on some days he'd stare at the screen, wanting to believe the last sentence you had typed out, that it wouldn't be long before you were there by his side again

On other days he didn't want to hear any notification from his phone knowing you wouldn't be able to call or message him ever again, his phone would be on silent for days, until one day he turned it on to see missed calls from you

He thought he had been dreaming, rubbing sleep from his eyes he focused on the incoming call again, your name was flashing on the screen, it was as if his heart jumpstarted again hearing your voice come in, he nearly cried but was able to know you were waiting for him, wanting to come to him

And it was like he learned to smile again, a gentle smiling on his lips, tears glossing over his pretty blue eyes as he was able to hold you securely in his arms

Makarov

Through too many bitter days he had to keep living, and that was such a cruel punishment he couldn't withstand, he couldn't live day by day in ignorance until his death, he hated how early you had to part ways, it was much worse than a breakup, for you were still very much in need of one another

He had no one else to tell his sorrows to, not that he was willing to open up, he only had regrets, wishing he was able to rewind time and prevent you from going on that mission, he'd do anything to get you back

Fortunately, you showed up at his door before he was able to start a war, he saw your wounds and it was another bullet to his heart, something as dear to him as you should remain unscathed, but with your head on his chest you calmed him, telling him you were here after all

And for now he'd have to focus on keeping you safe, protecting these never-changing memories for as long as he could

Keegan

He held remnants of that pitiful hope that you were somehow still alive, although each day the chances dwindled, each time he went out he had to come to face the reality that you weren't there to do the things you used to always do together

He did have to wait a long time before he was able to see you again, by then he had almost given up the hope of you being gone forever, but there were just things he knew were off about your "death"

Still, he had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming when he saw you, you were across the street and the moment your eyes met he instantly knew it was you, you smiled gently at him it seemed like a dream underneath the sky

And he did do exactly as he hoped, took care of you even if most of your injuries had been treated, there was still a scar mentally and he did not hold back from caring for you

König

You had skipped the hospital, instead making your way straight to him, you could hold out a little longer but what if he couldn't? He wouldn't be able to wait long if he didn't see you, as soon as your saw him you collapsed into his arms, as if all this time you weren't safe until you felt him

His wishes were granted and he was to reflect on the blessing he had received, his thumb caressed your cheek but it was him who nearly spilled the tears brimming in his eyes, he didn't want to let go, he just wanted to hold you and look at you for as long as he could, he missed the sight of you

He was afraid to let go and that you would fade away again, as if a dream, you had to reassure him many times it wasn't a figment of his imagination but that you were here, his eyes noticed the wounds when you peeled off your clothing and he had to hold back from gasping at the sight of your bruises, most of them just needed time to heal

Horangi

It was such a beautiful sigh to see you again, even if you were hurt he looked beyond that and he no longer had to think about how grim the future would be without you

He had lost hope and regained it again, how was he to ever make up for this? You two gazed at one another, simply content with being in one another's company again, he didn't want you to do anything strenuous, just being by your side while you recuperated

He would no longer have to resort to past thoughts of you, now he could focus on keeping you by his side and preventing from danger taking you away from him

It had felt like such a long time since he was able to say your name, and now he could call out to you and you'd answer, knowing you didn't stop existing for a moment in his universe

Nikto

The reunion was quiet, you were both tired, you were on the brink of death, thinking you weren't going to make it, but you were a stubborn one, you had been determined to make it back to him, you loved the man

The darkness and static started to fade away and tune out in his mind, he was able to take in his surroundings once again just rest with you, his mind had gone through too much trying to cope with the grief

He didn't have to ask, he just knew you had resolve, too many times he went through the same situation himself only to still come out alive even if it was with a few new scars, but that was before he had met you, you had done it all on the act of wanting to see him again, to not leave him alone in this world

He would rather focus on healing your physical wounds than acting hurt from his mental wounds, it had been a long time since either of you had slept well, now the rest would be plentiful

[taeiris]

That piece you just posted, of byler, truly divine. Thank you so much for giving the tag life with that one! It's so detailed, how long did it take to complete cuz st need to hire you to do a byler comic or something ASAP!

May you always get your favorite food at the most cozyest time to just relax

EHEHEH thank you im so happy you guys are enjoying it!! it took me so long😭 i started it during finals around late nov-early dec which was a horrible idea cause all i wanted to do was work on that while i had the responsibility of my college classes so i just worked on all the lineart and then focused on finishing the semester for me to work on it again

but then i got a job😭 so i was coming home tired only wanting to play marvel rivals so that further delayed me finishing it until now lmfao

the only motivation for me making this comic was that last panel, i just wanted to draw that but bc im insane and love putting lore into everything i had to make it into a comic.

here’s the storyboard!!!

and heres my inspo for the last panel

my girl layla el faouly looking up at my other girl marc spector bc they are EVERYTHING TO ME

also wanted to note but forgot; i wanted to also kinda showcase will’s survival instincts once hes in the UD + mike is in danger. we all talk about protective mike but forget how selfless and protective will also is, having survived the UD at 12 years old for a whole week alone.

no matter what is happening in their relationship, he will always protect mike in any way he can. once he sensed the demodog, he quickly entered survival mode and found a way to protect himself and mike’s clumsy ass

anyways thats my tangent im really happy the comic is getting love everywhere after the sweat i put into it😭♥️

[joelsprettyprincess]

Taming of the Shrew - Part 2

Pairing: dark!Arthur Morgan x f!reader Summary: Although you've ended your relationship with Arthur, he gets you to agree to one final rendezvous. Series-wide tags: Toxic relationships, manipulation, obsessive behavior, smut, secretly unprotected piv, babytrapping, pregnancy, canon-typical violence, slight canon-typical misogyny. Wordcount: 3.7k A/N: I was not expecting that much love on part 1! I'm so glad yall enjoyed! Here's part 2 and where things get juicy 🤭. And before you ask, yes they had condoms in 1899!! They just weren't very good.. Also, I do not profess to be an expert on pregnancy, I just looked things up and hoped for the best. 😭 Sorry if anything's inaccurate. This chapter contains smut. And as always MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Tags: @dandelion-ranch @i-will-give-you-love @amaranth-writing @heloixe @buneio @warmsideofthepillow03 @thoughts-of-bear @luzzbuzz

Part 1 Part 3

Several days had passed since you told Arthur to never speak to you again.

You didn’t mean it. You couldn’t have. Your love, though short, had burned like a phoenix: though it was currently snuffed, Arthur knew it would soon rise again.

He knew better than to approach you again, though. So he wrote a letter.

My love.

My darling, my princess. I am in pain while writing this. Not because of any physical injury, but because I miss you badly indeed. My heart burns for you, for your touch, your skin on mine, even just one last time.

I am certain you feel the same way. If you do, please meet me at our spot near Ringneck Creek at noon next Monday.

I swear this will be the last time I will contact you. If you don’t show, I’ll know your decision is final. However I know you will. I know our love was something real. Please don’t make a fool of me.

Forever yours,

Arthur

Arthur posted the letter on a Monday, giving you nearly a full week to make a decision. He was on edge after that, wondering if you would actually show. Would you bring your father, or even a bounty hunter, to capture him? Or would you just not show at all?

Thankfully most everyone in camp left him alone; the news of your loud departure had spread fast. There was the occasional ribbing from Micah, but he was like a mosquito buzzing in everyone’s face. Arthur paid him no mind.

Dutch told him it was a waste of time. 

“Women are a complete mystery, son,” he told him Sunday night, puffing on his cigar. “Trust me, you’re better off being single forever.” He didn’t seem to care that Molly was behind him in the tent, hopefully sleeping.

But he didn’t know the inner workings of Arthur’s mind. Didn’t know what he planned to do.

Monday morning, he bathed and trimmed his beard. As much as he hated to admit it, Arthur was nervous.

He scoffed. Headshotting O’Driscolls barely raised his heart rate, but the thought of seeing you again had him jumpy like that Kieran boy.

Arthur rode over to the spot early. It was a good isolated spot a little ways away from the creek, where you two had slept together a couple times.

He spread down a blanket and cleaned his guns while he waited for you.

About half an hour later, he heard the crunching of leaves and turned around. Your familiar form entered his field of vision; suddenly, Arthur was breathless.

You were here. You’d actually come. And you appeared to be alone.

You hitched your horse next to his, then came down to the blanket. “Hey,” you said, smiling softly.

“Yes, well.” You smoothed your skirts. “Just can’t help m’self, I suppose. But listen, Arthur…this is the last time I’m seeing you. Seriously. I don’t even know why I came here–”

Arthur pulled you down beside him. “You came.” He cleared his throat. “I knew you would.”

“Alright, shh,” Arthur interrupted, taking your hand in his and softly pressing his lips to yours.

“Mm,” you sighed, immediately melting into his touch. He might be rough around the edges, but Arthur surely knew how to treat a woman. You’d already forgotten what you were gabbing on about.

Arthur wasted no time in deepening the kiss and pushing his tongue past your lips. “That’s my good girl,” he murmured, one hand cupping your cheek and the other on your hip.

You spent a few minutes exploring each other’s mouths and letting your hands wander. Eventually your positions shifted so Arthur was nearly laying on top of you. He spoke again.

“Come back,” he whispered. “I can’t live without you.”

That voice. It was sweet as honey. It made you want to follow him to the ends of the earth.

You avoided his gaze, pursing your slightly swollen, glazed lips. “Arthur, I can’t–”

“You love the bloodshed,” he spoke in your ear. His hand went under your skirt and ghosted over your bloomers. “You crave it. Stop actin’ like you don’t.”

“No–”

Arthur silenced you with another kiss, capturing your lips and claiming them as his, as he had done so many times before. Yet it never got old; the lusty looks and burning touches lit you on fire.

You whimpered as he slipped his hand inside your bloomers.

“We both know this doesn’t lie,” he murmured, barely grazing your folds. He kept his bright eyes steadily focused on you while he used just one finger to tease you.

A quiet moan escaped your lips.

Arthur seemed eager to get on with it. He lifted your skirt and removed your underthings, carefully setting them beside you on the blanket.

“Did my pretty girl miss me?” he breathed, massaging your thighs. You whined just a little, already anticipating his touch.

Arthur traced your bare cunt, enjoying watching you squirm.

“Arthur,” you whispered in a choked voice. 

He shucked off his pants, then laid down between your legs. 

Arthur was gentleman enough to service you first. He put your legs on either side of his face, and breathed in the natural scent of your pussy, again barely grazing the already soaked lips with his finger.

“S-Stop teasing me, dammit,” you moaned. He smiled. It was almost fun to see how quickly he could get you to come undone, begging for his touch.

Arthur started with small licks on the inner parts of your thighs. Your legs immediately tried to come together, but he held them apart and kept licking. Your chest heaved up and down as you tried to stay still. 

He traveled up your thighs and paused just before he got to your cunt. Taking two fingers, Arthur spread your lips apart, marveling at the amount of slick already coating your entrance.

“Ah- ah, d-don’t- mmgh,” you cried. His touch was so depraved and satisfying. 

Arthur dove in, pushing his tongue into your warm, sticky entrance. He gripped your thighs with his hands and held them up as he fully ate you out. He got messy with it very quickly, suckling on everything he could get a hold of.

You cried out and gripped his hair hard, bucking your hips. This kind of pleasure was completely unheard of and forbidden for girls like you, and that made it all the more filthy. You loved it. You loved every second of it. No man had ever touched you like this before, and you doubted any man ever would.

He removed his mouth for a second and rubbed circles around your sweet spot. “You’re lovin’ it, aren’t you, sweet girl?”

You breathed in and out loudly. “Yes,” you whined shamelessly. 

Arthur pushed his tongue back in, appreciating how your walls tightened around him. He swore he could feel your heartbeat, pulsing in time with his.

You grinded against his face, spreading your juices everywhere, going crazy at the lewd noises being produced.

“Arthur– oh, Arthur, yes, please–”

You were getting close. It never took long for you to cum, but apparently you were touch starved right now.

Abruptly, Arthur pulled back from your pussy, breathing heavily and licking his lips.

You panted too. “Why’d you stop?”

He paused, then quickly pulled off his boxers. Oh.

Arthur pushed you down again and rubbed his girthy, veiny cock up and down your soaked pussy. 

The thick mushroom head was poking at your entrance, and you wanted to let him in, but…

“Do you have…protection?” you whispered.

He nodded. “Course.” He pulled a condom packet out of his pants pocket. A primitive thing, to be sure, but it was part of the plan.

Arthur pulled it on, then nosed his tip so it was just breaching your entrance. You sighed loudly, spreading your legs a bit more.

He pushed in. A creamy noise was produced, but even louder was your pained moan. It was a stretch to fit him in, even when he had prepped you first.

This was only the second time he’d gone all the way like this. There was no reliable way of avoiding pregnancy, so you simply didn’t allow him to do it. But this was a special occasion. After this, you were done with each other, forever.

Arthur sighed and pushed into you even further, watching your pussy lips greedily suck in his cock.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured. “Letting me in so nicely.”

He started to thrust in and out slowly. You threw your head back and panted, whining loudly and mumbling his name.

His cock repeatedly filled you to the brim and you squeezed your tight walls around him. Your juices quickly coated the condom, allowing him to more easily push the rest of his cock in.

Soon he was pushing in and out, all the way to the burst of hair at his base. Arthur groaned lowly, biting your shoulder and holding onto your hips with his big hands, kneading your ass.

After a few minutes of bliss, he shifted positions; Arthur pressed your legs almost to your chest and held them there, hitting deeper and deeper into your sticky cunt. 

You moaned loudly, finding his hair again and holding it tightly. His full balls slapped against your ass.

“Like that?” he muttered. “You like that, you uppity little–” He groaned loudly, going faster and rougher.

“Arthur, Arthur,” you sobbed, curling your toes. “Please, I’m g-gonna–”

With a muffled cry, you came undone on his cock, toes curling, legs shaking, cunt spasming and letting out more of your juices all over his cock and the blanket.

“That’s right, let it out, sweetheart,” he gasped. “I’m close too, baby, shit–”

Arthur pressed himself into you and stilled, panting, eyes tightly shut. You could feel his cock twitching as he rode out his orgasm in your soaked through cunt.

His lips collided with yours in a sloppy, desperate kiss, and he slowly thrusted a couple more times before pulling out.

The condom was smeared in your juices.

Arthur sighed. “Hopefully it didn’t break. I tried to get a good one.”

You chuckled nervously. “Hopefully not.”

He helped you clean up, wiping you down and putting your clothes back on. You hoped his smell (it wasn’t a bad one, just distinct) wouldn’t cling to your clothes.

“I’m sorry it had to be like this,” you told him as you prepared to remount your horse. “But if you ever decide to stop being an outlaw…you know where to find me.”

“I love you,” Arthur said simply.

You flushed, and looked away. 

“Goodbye, Arthur.”

You rode off.

Arthur waited till you were out of sight to smile.

You were really gullible. A condom, seriously? Even pulling out was more reliable. These things broke more easily than a cheap lock. Even if it hadn’t, he’d cut a small hole into the tip that ensured he’d painted your walls white. If it dripped out, you would probably just assume it to be your own juices.

Now it was just a waiting game.

Two months later.

Your maid, Elisabeth, stared at you frightfully as you bent over a bucket for the 3rd time this week, vomiting horribly. You breathed heavily, then vomited again. There was nothing even in your stomach, which made it so much worse.

“Are you alright, ma’am?’ she squeaked, standing by with a towel.

You were too nauseous to answer. You clutched your stomach, head spinning and mind racing.

Your stomach had been in shambles this week and the last, and it was getting concerning.

After a few labored breaths, you grabbed the towel and wiped off your mouth. “Let's visit the doctor.”

Elisabeth gave you some cool water to sip, which helped a bit but not much. You could hardly stand to get on the carriage, and then it was like you were on a merry-go-round with the way it was hitting every bump in the road.

You leaned over the side and emptied your stomach yet again.

It was possible this sickness had a terrifying explanation, one that you couldn't even begin to imagine. Lord, protect me, you prayed despairingly. 

One agonizingly slow and nauseating ride later, you pulled up next to the doctor's office. Elisabeth had to coax you down, and she was clearly scared you would projectile vomit on her. The world was swimming around you and had a hazy feel.

You stumbled into the office and leaned against the cool wall.

“You alright, ma'am?” a voice asked. It was Dr. Williams, an older gentleman who'd been in Rhodes for years.

“I-I think I have a fever,” you whispered, fanning yourself. “Been throwing up everywhere.”

He quickly escorted you to a room in the back, and you collapsed into the chair. 

Dr. Williams examined you, looking inside your mouth and pressing various points on your body.

“Any symptoms besides vomiting?” he inquired.

You shook your head. “Don't believe so.”

“When did they start?”

“I'd say…maybe two weeks ago.”

He hummed and thought for a bit while examining you. “Is there a chance you could be with child?”

You started, then stopped, then froze.

No…

“Err,” you stuttered.

He waited for your answer.

“I-I-...well, I suppose it ain't impossible,” you admitted fearfully.

Dr. Williams nodded. “Unless you have some strange fever, it is my opinion that you're suffering from morning sickness.”

Your heart dropped to your feet and started beating like a jackrabbit's. No. No. Lord, please.

“That can't be true,” you said desperately. “It-It- was so long ago…I don't…”

“It takes a bit for symptoms to present,” the doctor explained.

“B-But I can't, I can't be,” you cried, panicking. “You don't understand, my life is over if I'm with child. Over!” You stood up and started pacing around.

“Admittedly it’s still too early to tell for certain,” Dr. Williams allowed. “However, I have seen this many times before. There are options–”

“No! There are no options!” you snapped. “I am the daughter of an oil baron and a society lady! J-just imagining the shame, the disgrace–...my mother will kill me. And if she doesn't, I'll be sent away to the corners of the earth.” 

You burst into tears at this declaration, falling to your knees and covering your face in shame. Dr. Williams hung back, perhaps sensing that you needed a minute.

After you collected yourself and stood up, you said in a quiet, cold voice: “There is no way I am pregnant. I thank you for your expertise, Dr. Williams, but in this case you are incorrect. I simply have a fever. Good day.”

You swept out of the building with your head held high, collecting your maid and getting back on the carriage. 

The two of you had barely left the town borders before you broke down and started crying again. Pregnant? A child? You? It could not be true. It could not. 

And…and definitely not by Arthur, of all people. He was like a firecracker, burning hot and dangerous, the exact opposite of a…father.

Even that word burned acrid on your tongue.

“Do you need somethin’, miss?” Elisabeth asked tentatively.

You sighed, wiped your face, and shook your head sadly. “No…no thank you. I'm alright.”

The ride back home was silent save for your sniffles and forlorn sighs. You refused to accept this possibility.

You felt you would rather be tarred and feathered than even think about telling your mother about your condition. Your outburst at Dr. Williams had barely covered it; your parents were continually telling you to act perfectly, to never step out of line. Even though they were far from perfect.

Your mother was the biggest hypocrite you knew. She thought you didn't see her inviting the help in for "tea". Well, you did, not that you cared much. It was just sickening that she set expectations for you that she herself had never reached.

She'd threatened you with the nunnery before, after catching you with one of the stable boys. Said that “wicked girls were destined for the deepest pits of hell.” Hmph. She was definitely an expert on the subject.

As for your father, well, he wasn't much better. Though he didn't verbally abuse you like your mother, he viewed you more like a liability among his property. You were certain he would marry you off if it would benefit his emerging empire. He would see this…predicament as something that could damage his reputation. If your mother chose to send you away, you doubted he would make much of a fuss.

Thankfully, the churning in your stomach faded on the way home, and only your mind remained in shambles. 

You tried to avoid your mother when you arrived at the manor, but of course she was in the front room, waiting for you.

“What did the doctor say?” she inquired as you put down your things.

“Just a mild fever,” you replied shortly, then power walked to your room. But she followed.

“Are you sure? Do you have a temperature? Did he give you any medicine?” she pressed, following your impatient footsteps right up to your bedroom door.

“Mother, I'll be fine. It's not serious,” you said angrily, then closed the door behind you firmly.

You waited until her heels clicked away down the wooden stairs, then collapsed on your bed and sobbed some more.

My life might be over.

A month and a half later.

Your life was over.

Completely and utterly.

The nausea had not stopped, and in fact it got worse the week after you went to the doctor. That had been the peak of pain, but it still remained for another two weeks afterwards, lurking like some shadowy beast.

Your dresses, tailored exactly to your measurements, had become just a little bit tighter. At first you had brushed it off as an indulgent diet, or just stress weight, but even your mother had commented on how your dress was pulled tight over your torso.

After that, you took care to hide your body under the heaviest dresses you could manage. But it was summer by now, and staying out of sight was a tall order.

Your mother repeatedly asked you to go to the doctor again, and perhaps seek out a second opinion, and you refused, insisting that it was just a fever. But you could tell she wasn’t believing you. She gave you strange looks when you said you felt nauseous yet again.

It was a stormy day in June when you finally had the courage to take off your clothes and examine your body in the floor-length, gilded mirror in your boudoir.

A mistake.

Your blood turned to ice as you saw the unmistakable bump that was forming.

Your breathing accelerated along with your mind, thoughts racing and jumbling and colliding, coming to one stunning, awful conclusion:

I’m pregnant.

You were pregnant. With child. An expectant mother.

What a joke.

You? A mother? What a ridiculously absurd notion. You would sooner be a clown in a traveling circus.

And…that man was the father. The man that haunted your thoughts and your dreams, the man whose scent still clung ever so faintly to one of your riding dresses. The man whose mere name sent shivers down your spine.

Arthur Morgan.

-

You put your clothes back on, then left the room, intending to get a snack, but before even making it to the stairs your mother pounced on you.

“Alright, I simply must insist that you tell me what is really going on,” she declared. “No fever lasts this long, and you have no temperature at all.”

You tried to dodge her, but she blocked your path, clearly dead set on getting an answer from you.

“It’s nothing, Mother, I told you before,” you said, irritated. It absolutely was not nothing, but you needed time to plan your strategy. 

“If it’s nothing, why have you been nauseous for the past…” She paused, then narrowed her eyebrows. 

Before you could step back, she poked your stomach with one finger. You of course involuntarily jumped back.

“What- What are you doing?” you gasped, nervous.

“Let me see your stomach.”

“What?”

She pushed you towards your room. “I said, let me see your stomach, girl. Lift up your skirts.”

You scoffed, heart pounding like a drum. “Why would I do that?”

You were forced back into your bedroom, and your mother closed and locked the door behind her. “I just want to look at it.”

This was quite a pickle.

“I- I really don’t think that’s necessary, Mother-”

She grabbed at your skirts, impatient. You jumped back. “Stop it! Fine, I will.”

She was going to find out eventually.

Your mother crossed her arms and waited with anticipation as you slowly lifted your skirt. The blood was rushing in your ears and you prayed to God that you would survive the next five minutes.

Eventually your skirt revealed the still developing but definitely noticeable bump you had.

The room was dead silent. Your mother stared at your belly in shock, lips slightly parted. 

Then her mouth closed and formed a hard scowl. “Would you care to explain the meaning of this?”

You blinked several times, trying to find your voice, but it was lost and long gone.

“Are you-” She swallowed hard. “Are you…with child?”

She stared at you. Her glare kept you still and pinned you down like a bug on display.

You eventually nodded, wordless and terrified.

“And who is the father, pray tell?”

You just stared at the ground.

“Answer me, girl,” she said sharply.

There was no way you were going to tell her that. It would genuinely be better for her to assume you were so loose you couldn’t even pinpoint the father.

Your mother pinched her nose, and sighed, shaking her head. “We’re going to have a little talk with your father when he comes home. Remain in your room; I have no desire to see you anymore.” With those pleasant parting words, she stomped out, slamming the door behind you.

Once her footsteps faded away, you sat on your bed, numbly thinking of what to do. 

Your father was sure to agree with any punishment your mother dreamed up. He was more like a manager than a father, and he had no qualms about letting a bad employee go.

Or…or maybe he wouldn’t? Perhaps his indifference would work in your favor, and he would tell your mother not to bother? Maybe he’d even pay someone to take care of it.

These were all hypotheticals. There was no telling what would really happen until it actually occurred.

Your father was due home soon. It was just your luck that he was taking a half-day in the office.

Ugh.

End of Part 2.

[just-another-fan-01]

Fanfic Recommendations Needed ASAP!!!

I don't think some of you understand...

I just NEED some fanfics where these two are married. I mean come on!! I don't care if it's from season one..

Or post-finale where these two are just floating around together and decide, "What the heck, we already decided to be partners in every timeline, let's make it official and be husbands in this one."

To be completely honest, they don't have enough out there with bearded Jayce either. Like this man...

I have no doubts Viktor would have definitely swooned for. Especially season 1 Viktor?? Like this sweet flirtatious bean!?

Meeting this Jayce?!

Ya know he definitely would cave for the beard. Or maybe that's just a biased opinion, but man... He did get way more attractive after growing his hair and getting a beard.

I could go on and on with my rant, but I'll just end it here. But please, if anyone has read fanfics like this, please recommend them! I've been searching and I can't find them anywhere. 😭😭😭

[thecampjuicebox]

please please PLEASE GIVE ME SOME TARA AND TAV INTERACTIONS 💕💕💕😭😭😭

Hellooooo I am so sorry it has taken me so long to do this but.. Hows about some Tara and Tav headcannons for post game?!

The first few weeks of Tav moving in with Gale were rough, to say the least. You know when you invite a friend over and your cat is illusive and skittish and overall just avoids the situation all together? Yeah.. That was not Tara. Tara found enjoyment in making sure to get her fur and feathers all over Tav's belongings. Black clothing? You bet you'd find Tara hairs all over them. As a matter of fact, she'd make it a point to sleep only on Tav's clothes. She'd push Tav's glasses of water off of any surface they'd set them on, make sure to dip her paws in on occasion just to spice things up, and then would proceed to walk all over whatever papers or books or items Tav happened to have lying around with said wet paw. An absolute menace to society.

One particular night was a turning point, however. It was the middle of winter and Gale had gone out in search of Tav's favorite blend of tea to make them while they were sick. Tav laid on the floor in front of the fireplace to warm the chill in their bones and Tara happened to be lying not far away. The way Tav trembled through their fever made Tara terribly nervous.. They were Gale's person, after all.. Their coughing and wheezing only made her pity them more, and Gale wasn't getting home any time soon to properly care for them. Being the oh-so-generous tressym she is, she curled up against Tav's stomach and stayed with her until Gale finally came back with the blend of tea - Along with an endearing story of how they cuddled Tara with no retaliation to tell Tav when they were feeling well again.

After that night, Tara began to follow Tav around the tower, preferring to spend most of her time at their side. Something about the idea of ever losing them to a pesky sickness made her appreciate Tav so much more, especially when she noticed how happy it made Gale that they were finally getting along. She adored their gentle pets and they way they'd make sure to give her adequate portions at dinner, even against Gale's wishes. She found Tav's lap to be the more comfortable of the two, and often opted to rest there while Tav was reading or sewing or napping. (Yes, Gale was jealous. No, Tara did not care.)

In their bedroom, for the longest time, Tara was not allowed on the bed. Not because Gale had any problem with it as he shared his bed with her long before Tav came into his life, but because Tara made a habit of attempting to sleep directly in Tav's spot (Out of spite, of course). Now.. Tara has her own special spot between their heads. A nest of blankets coiled up and nestled right in the middle of their pillows. Gale's not a fan of having to ask her to move every time he wants any sort of closeness with Tav, but he wouldn't dare complain to Tara about it. Not without facing her sharp teeth and even sharper claws. She's definitely swatted at Gale a few times after being woken up from a particularly lovely dream of chasing pigeons.

[imbadatwrighting]

PAIRING: dean winchester x ditzy!winchester!reader, sam winchester x ditzy!winchester!reader (both platonic)

SUMMARY: maybe the winchester brothers should have made sure you were doing your homework instead of letting you goof off in your room; it only made you more stubborn.

A/N: i’m pretty sure this is very stupid and probably not that well written (if you can’t tell by the summary). I gotta start getting into writing again on tumblr 😭 but anyways this is based off this post!! mentions of getting hurt from a gun.

They should have known you weren’t doing your homework like you promised. You were never one who liked to do your schoolwork, even after being homeschooled due to the hunting life you were born into. It wasn’t like you couldn’t, just most of the time, you never put much effort into trying to.

It’s why most times when Sam gave you work to complete by yourself, you’d hold off until Sam’s patience wore thin and he begrudgingly helped you out. Not that Sam didn’t like to help his baby sister out, but he knew you could do it if you tried. Then again, it felt sort of nice to know someone relied on him and not Dean for once.

Maybe the first sign they should’ve noticed was how quickly you sprung up to go your room at the mention of school work. Once perched on Dean’s lap as he sat in one of the library chairs, your fingers twiddling with his flannel, then up and scurrying to your room when Sam only asked if you got any done yet.

A look of confusion spread on their faces and a quick, “be careful!” left Dean when he heard your little giggle as your thigh high socks made you slide down the hallway. But the groans and huffs of annoyance soon heard throughout the bunker caused them to force away their questions and continue on with their day. Dean drinking his beer and pretending to read the lore books while Sam actually read.

It was only a little more than half an hour later when they heard your door slam open and your feet paddling against the hard floor that they looked up. Sam stood up, walking quickly to where he heard you coming before your figure collided with his. He stumbled back only slightly, his hand grabbing onto your elbows to still you. It looked like it affected you more than it did him, Sam having to hold you up to stop you from getting knocked down on the floor.

“Hey, hey,” he spoke softly, his face painted with concern. “Are you okay?” You nodded your head quickly, basically hopping on your tippy toes with excitement. “I did it!” you giggled.

Sam raised his eyebrow. “Did what? Your homework?” he asked. He almost congratulated you before he saw the look on your face. Pure confusion and slight disgust. “What—no. Why would I want to do that?”

Of course not. Sam hummed with slight disappointment, but he didn’t get another word in edgewise before you were squirming out of his grasp and speed walking over to Dean. Your hand grabbed at his sleeve, trying to drag your older brother out of his chair.

Dean only looked at you with an amused expression, not moving a single inch even when you used your full body strength to try forcing him up. It wasn’t until the tone of your whines started getting more annoyed that he relented. His hand grabbed yours, making sure you kept your balance. “I’m up, I’m up. Don’t get your pants in a twist, sweetheart,” he grumbled, setting his beer on the table as you already started pulling him towards your room.

You didn’t even bother to question his phrase, even though you knew you were wearing a skirt, not pants. You just continued to drag Dean as Sam followed behind you two silently. You were babbling on about how you had to show Dean something but never mentioning what that something was.

When you finally got to your room Dean looked around in slight confusion. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. An army of stuffed animals still on the pink covers, your backpack, where you stuffed all your school papers, still peaked out of your closet unopened. Neither Dean nor Sam saw any reason why you’d want them in your room.

It wasn’t until you held up your computer. “See that, Dee?” you giggled, almost pushing the screen into his face. Sam grabbed the laptop from you carefully, but still held it so Dean could see.

“What am I supposed to be seeing, sweetheart?” he asked, looking at your screen. All he saw was a video game, that only took him a short second before he questioned if you should be playing it. But then again, he wouldn’t be bringing that up right now, he’d leave that to Sam.

A pout rested on your face and an annoyed huff left your mouth. “Mhm, I won!” you answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Dean nodded silently at your words. “Good for you,” he muttered.

You waited for Dean to add anymore but when he didn’t you groaned, taking a small step forward. One of your arms wrapped around his while the other pointed at the laptop screen. “I shot all those people! Now you can really give me a gun!”

That got your brothers’ attention, their heads turning to look at you. Dean grinned but his eyes stayed focused on your face like he was trying to find a glimpse at any sort of prank. Yet he found none.

Dean’s face hardened within seconds. “No,” he suddenly declared.

He could only think of all the scenarios of you getting hurt because of a damn gun. He hated the idea of you forgetting to turn off the safety and hurting yourself or someone taking your gun and using it against you. He especially hated the idea that you needed a gun in the first place. You don’t need a gun, you have him.

Sam nodded slowly, agreeing with his brother before shutting your laptop. “Video games aren’t anything like real life. We can’t make the decision to give you a gun based off it,” Sam sighed.

A frown fell on your face and you unwrapped yourself from your brothers, snatching the laptop from your other brother. “We hunt literal monsters and I still can’t use a gun?” you pouted, throwing your laptop onto your bed and crossing your arms.

“Well, when I don’t have to worry about the gun smacking you because of the recoil or you dropping it from the noise, I’ll think about it,” Dean grumbled.

“Besides,” Sam cut in with a small, apologetic smile, “you don’t need a gun; we gave you a knife last year incase there was a time you needed protection and we couldn’t be there, remember?”

You huffed dramatically, turning your head to the side in frustration. “Yeah, but that’s not the same,” you pouted. Sam nodded slightly, thinking of what to say to hopefully get you to agree. “Well, maybe in a few years we can revisit it, but for now, Dean and I don’t think it’s the best idea.”

“That’s not fair!” you declared, stomping your foot against the floor.

Dean rolled his eyes at your little temper tantrum. What was the big deal? So what if you can’t get a gun? It’s better than shooting off your face because you forgot to turn the safety on when you tried messing with it. “You know what’s not fair—” he started, eyes narrowing on you.

“Listen,” Sam interjected quickly, giving Dean a quick glare. “we can talk about this later. In the meantime both of you need to calm down. Go watch a movie or something.”

It seemed like your pout lessened and your frustration dissipating as the seconds went by. “Only if I get to pick,” you muttered.

Dean scoffed at that, his eyes rolling slightly. “I am not watching Gossip Girl with you again,” he grumbled. Your eyes narrowed on your eldest brother and before Sam could blink both of you were squabbling like toddlers.

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t bothering trying to stop you two; that would lead nowhere. With a huff, he was already heading out the door, knowing the fight wouldn’t lead anywhere else. By now you probably already forgot about not getting your way anyways. “Do your homework, please!” Sam said before stepping out of the room.

“I’ll do it later!” you yelled back, barely paying attention as you tried messing with Dean. Sam could hear you giggle as Dean probably pushed you onto your bed. Sam could only sigh, hiding his smile as he moved into the dean cave. He began setting up the movie he knew both his older brother and little sister would like; there was only so much energy in you before you’d want to cuddle up to your brothers and watch tv.

[peripatetic-rowan]

Sephiroth - Final Fantasy VII

[tomaturtles]

Got inspired by this and had to

[italyveneziano]

Old redraw of an even older drawing ☺️ They are the father and son ever. To me (please don't tag as ship!)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

still thinking of my fave marvel rivals interaction where my jeff and i were hanging on the point after knocking out the other team and lil bro sprays the space in front of me and emotes and we both said thank you at the same time like i fear im never forgetting that ever

[atopvisenyashill]

looking back i DO wish i whacked rhaenyra more in that one ask i got about “it’s just kind of stupid for rhaenyra to execute one of her siblings right” i got really focused on that show moment from alicent’s perspective because…shamefully i will admit………….as an aligon shipper i was like how dARE THEY DO THIS TO ME like i’m still heated tbh i know how they wanted that scene to hit and i did NOT feel it on the alicent/aegon end.

but like that’s the point i’m always on about, is the kinslaying thing is SERIOUS and there’s simply no way for rhaenyra to recover politically from publicly executing or being explicitly linked to aegon’s death when she’s ALREADY facing maegor allegations!! and rhaenyra knows this it’s why she’s so angry at daemon. optics are simply so much more important for her & if she’s trying to take the throne while she’s a woman and she’s got these fucking andal/first men looking kids, she can’t just DO SHIT LIKE THAT. and how do i know she can’t recover politically? it’s bc she doesn’t lmao helaena is the precursor the city needs to explode in part because of the kinslaying taboo!!! nyra’s a woman clearly aware of the optics, she talks about how she’s perceived constantly when she tries to emulate visenya, when she does her ding dong ditch routine with aemond, when she slaps whatshisface and talks about fear, even if she’s colossally bad at judging how her actions will look, she knows how shes SUPPOSED to be looking. so it was like rhaenyra. that’s a dumb ultimatum and you KNOW it’s dumb, there's NO WAY these people will forgive you for executing YOUR OWN BROTHER after your party (regardless of who is to blame, again, something she KNOWS) just murdered his child while he was sleeping in bed.

so that was why that convo annoyed me to the level it did. i didn’t love the sept scene for example but at least the general conversation they were having fit the characters - the stubborn rhaenyra “we need to sue for peace” vs the frustrated alicent “we live in reality not your head” IS a common argument w those two, so i do Get what they’re going for on a character level. but the finale scene didn’t feel like an argument between two people who have known each other their whole lives, there simply weren’t enough low blows. i think rhaenyra could get away with out and out killing aemond bc of the luke death but literally anyone else named targaryen looks just soooo bad so it was frustrating not only for rhaenyra to stupidly suggest this but then alicent crumbling immediately made me gasp at my screen i was so mad.